Clasping his hands before him, Boden said, “When I heard that Frau Vogel had passed…”
Gage studied the Ministerpräsident as he spoke a brief politician’s sermon on the sorrow he felt over Frau Vogel’s death, and how sad he’d already been over Karl’s passing. The Ministerpräsident’s voice was deep and imposing. The man was quite tall, with an angular, elongated face. His hair was a mix of blond and gray, and Gage guessed his age as 60, perhaps a bit more. Based on his frame and his general vigorous appearance, Gage speculated the Ministerpräsident was strong and perhaps a former athlete of some distinction. His eulogy was genuine and succinct, and he settled back into his chair during his conclusion.
“So, in closing, I want to offer you any support or help that I, or my office, can give you. If any of our omnipresent German red tape gets in your way, allow me to cut it for you as you proceed.”
Gage maintained his poker face. “Thank you, sir, but proceed with what?”
Boden appeared mildly uncomfortable. “Claudia and I were in frequent communication, even over these last weeks. Last week, she confided in me about why you’re here. She told me she knew her husband had been murdered and she believed one of her daughters did it.”
Gage’s poker face dissolved.
The Ministerpräsident crossed his legs and stacked one hand on top of the other. “By reading your expression, you’ll please permit me to speculate?”
Gage nodded.
“Frau Vogel told you that she told no one other than you about her theory, correct?”
Fearful he was being tricked, Gage said nothing.
“It’s okay, Gage,” Boden said. “I’m telling the truth. I even assisted Frau Vogel with the pathologist.”
Still, Gage remained quiet.
“If it rebuilds your confidence, Frau Vogel wasn’t reckless. She doled out information to those she deemed as helpful to her cause.”
Relenting, Gage asked, “So, she might have told others, too?”
“Doubtful.”
“Well, she obviously thought you could help?”
“I suppose so.”
“I’m sorry to question you, sir, but in what way?”
“No, it’s an excellent question, and the answer is one you deserve to know.” The Ministerpräsident uncrossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees as he sat forward. “Frau Vogel wanted to absolutely ensure the alleged murder of her husband remained private.”
“She assured me it would.”
“And it probably would have,” Boden agreed. “But as you know, anytime more than one person holds a secret, there’s a chance of it getting out.”
“Who else knows?”
“In addition to you, her daughters, and her attorney, the only other person is the pathologist who performed the autopsy that revealed the high…” Boden attempted to divine the answer on the ceiling.
“Potassium chloride.”
“Yes—as you can no doubt tell, I’m certainly not a physician nor a chemist. Regardless, other than Frau Vogel, you, me, her attorney, and her daughters—the pathologist is the only other one who knows. He’s certainly the only outsider.”
“The killer knows,” Gage added.
“Assuming there was a killer.”
“Michael, that’s two times now that you’ve cast doubt.”
“It seems hard to fathom. Karl was in extremely poor health. Why kill him?”
“Her attorney told me he’d consulted with three additional pathologists—no identities were used—and all of them concurred that such high levels of potassium chloride would be impossible to live with and couldn’t occur naturally in a human body.”
Boden frowned. “I didn’t know this.”
An idea occurred to Gage. “May I ask what you did to help Frau Vogel keep this situation private?”
“I had a rather terse discussion with the pathologist. He runs a private practice in Kassel. Suffice it to say, it would be very bad for his practice and his future if he were to ever breathe a word of this to anyone.”
Gage couldn’t help but grin. “Weighty threats. I like it.”
Boden shrugged sheepishly.
“Now that I know what you know, I can think of one thing you can help me with.”
“Anything.”
“Can you get the retain of Karl Vogel’s blood sample?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“I’d like to have it tested again, by someone I know and trust.”
“Two results would certainly make me feel better that it was indeed a murder.” Boden sat forward. “Gage, I know this doesn’t sound ethical, but I must request you keep my involvement in this private. What I did with the pathologist…”
“Understood.”
“And you’ll also understand why I, in my position, must cast such doubt over whether or not a murder occurred. If one did, and it ever got out that I kept it quiet…”
“Say no more—it’s a private matter, after all.”
“Thank you. May I ask another question?”
“Sure,” Gage said.
“When are you leaving?”
“Eventually.”
“Hmm.”
Gage eyed him.
“The fact that you aren’t making immediate plans leads me to believe that Frau Vogel has enlisted your help for the foreseeable future.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed. Because, despite her frigidity toward her daughters, I’m convinced she held out some modicum of hope that they didn’t harm their father.”
Measuring his comments carefully, Gage responded. “I had planned on leaving right away. But things changed today. I’ll be staying for a while, trying to get things straight here—that’s why I’d like to have that blood sample.” Gage shifted in his chair. “Michael, what’s your motivation here? And, please, don’t give me a politician’s answer. Give me the unvarnished truth.”
The Ministerpräsident produced a roll of peppermints. After Gage declined, Boden put one in the side of his mouth and responded. “I need to remain close to the remaining Vogels. They might very well be the wealthiest family in the entire state of Hessen. No one knows for sure who is the wealthiest, but the Vogels are among the top
