In Gage’s opinion, especially if they didn’t know she had cancer, Claudia was the one who’d have been the better target—because Herr Vogel was probably going to die soon, anyway. Of course, such a scenario was predicated on an inheritance killing. For now, he set such a possibility aside. In the interest of thoroughness, he made a note off to the side of the sisters that read, “Any way her diagnosis could have been learned?”
The girls were already rich, though. The inheritance angle didn’t make much sense.
He moved on.
In Gage’s mind, other than Claudia, Thomas was the least likely suspect of all. He’d become an indispensable help to Gage over the past weeks and every instinct Gage possessed told him that the estate’s caretaker was a loyal and faithful employee. He might have said direct things about the Vogels—in other words, he told the truth—but he didn’t seem to harbor an ounce of ill will.
Though Gage had only met Olga the nurse on two occasions, he failed to see why a woman who’d doted on the irascible Herr Vogel for quite some time would have chosen that fateful night to finally kill him. The remainder of the staff knew of no conflict between Herr Vogel and any of his nurses, especially Olga, who’d been on shift when he’d died. Though Gage had never formally informed Olga that he was quietly investigating, she’d seemed to sense it on their last meeting and remained quite helpful. She was now working at a nearby physician’s office and provided Gage her phone number in the event he had any more questions.
Gage didn’t suspect Olga.
The gate guards on duty the night Herr Vogel died were Marco and Peter, both of whom were quite young. Due to their hire dates at their parent security company, neither man had ever laid eyes on Herr Vogel, who’d been essentially bedridden for the duration of their collective employment. On top of that, the front gate was one of the few areas where there were several cameras. Neither man left the small gatehouse that night. It had a coffee machine, a small refrigerator and a bathroom. No one drove in or out, either.
Last on Gage’s list was Ursula Brecht, a woman from nearby Bad Homburg. Ursula had been on duty in the cookhouse when Karl Vogel had died. She’d reported for work very early to prepare the morning food and coffee. She was alone in the cookhouse the morning Vogel had been found dead.
Gage learned that Ursula had previously worked as a sous chef in a highly rated Frankfurt restaurant. She claimed to have taken the Vogel estate job because the pay was good and the hours were regular, allowing her to spend time with her daughter in the afternoons and evenings.
In chatting with Ursula, Gage learned she lived with her mother, who also helped care for Ursula’s daughter. Appearing to be in her early-thirties, Ursula was short and powerfully built with a gymnast’s body. She had platinum blonde hair and high cheekbones. Gage felt she wore a tad too much makeup, giving her a somewhat severe appearance. He also found her rather attractive, and she knew it. Many times since his arrival, Gage found Ursula lingering behind the cookhouse, smoking cigarettes and eyeing him coyly.
What made her a possible suspect in Gage’s eyes was the fact that she’d worked for the Vogels for five years. Furthermore, when Gage talked to her, she quickly told him that she had been “Karl’s favorite,” and missed his unexpected visits to the kitchen, back when he’d been up and about.
Gage remembered what Thomas the caretaker had said about Herr Vogel: That man rutted with more women than any married person I’ve ever known.
“When did Herr Vogel’s cookhouse visits end?” Gage had asked Ursula.
“When his heart began to fail, almost two years ago,” she’d answered, flicking her cigarette into the bucket behind the cookhouse.
Though there was certainly no empirical evidence suggesting Ursula was anything more than a loyal employee, there was something about her demeanor, added to her tenure—and the fact that she’d been “buddies” with Herr Vogel—that at least opened up the scant possibility of her as a suspect.
What if she and the old man had been involved somehow? What if she’d expected to get cut in on the will, or something similar? Perhaps he’d owed her something. Perhaps he’d promised to leave his wife and marry her. What if she’d killed him in a fit of rage?
So many what ifs.
Of course, all of this was predicated on the fact that Herr Karl Vogel had been murdered in the first place. And despite her growing weakness, Claudia was convinced he had.
Gage spent an hour making notes and thinking through the possibilities. One thing that had stuck with him since today’s surprise meeting with the daughters was Katja’s mentioning of all they’d endured. What had she meant by that?
Frustrated, Gage peered outside at the snow. He looked at his phone and noted significant movement in Claudia’s room over the past five minutes. Gage crossed the hall and knocked. Claudia told him to come in. She was sitting up and reading.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Fine after my nap. More snow?”
“Yes. Seems early in the season to snow this heavy.”
“Very.”
“Get you anything?”
“I’m fine. I’ll just read for a bit.”
Gage could tell Claudia wanted to be alone. “I think I’ll go outside for some fresh air. Do
