Katja lowered her head and shut her eyes. “So, why are you meeting with the doctor?”
“Just a hunch. I need to make certain he didn’t find anything else.”
“What else could there be?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I want to meet with the doctor.”
After a moment, Katja sat up and pulled her hair back. “On the morning my father was discovered dead in his bed, I got over there just as the ambulance was taking his body away.”
“Yeah?”
“I went inside and up to his room. My mother had just stripped the sheets from his bed.”
“Well, when a person dies, they lose control of bodily functions.”
“Lovely. But I remember watching mother carrying the black plastic bag with his sheets. She also had spray cleaner in her other hand.”
“Dying is messy.”
Katja stood and prowled the dark room. “Assume you were married. If your wife had just been discovered dead, would you be worrying about disposing of the sheets and cleaning the mattress?”
“People grieve differently. Your mother was extremely industrious.” He thought about it for a moment. “The mattress…”
“It was that of a typical hospital bed. It was coated so it could be wiped clean.”
“So, you didn’t see anything?”
“Nothing that grabbed my interest.”
“Who found him?”
“Olga, I guess. Or maybe mother?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. Probably Olga.”
“Was it a regular ambulance?”
“What do you mean?”
“One from the hospital?”
“No. My parents—all of us, actually—have access to a concierge medical service. Instead of going to the doctor, they actually come to us. It was their ambulance.”
“Rich people stuff?”
Katja walked to the bed and jabbed Gage in the ribs.
“Seriously,” he said. “I’m sure it’s expensive.”
She shrugged.
“So, if something else had happened to your father, other than his heart, the service might have covered it up?”
“Never underestimate what my mother was capable of convincing people to do.”
“Surely that medical service has plenty of physicians who could sign off on the death certificate.”
“I’m sure they do.”
Gage shut off his phone. “Come to bed. Go back to sleep.”
“Maybe I don’t want to sleep.” Katja walked to the window. A slight amount of amber light bled through the gauzy curtains. Her body was more lithe and catlike than Gage could have imagined. After stretching, she disappeared into the bathroom. Gage heard the shower running. He rested his head back in the pillow, surprisingly not upset with himself for allowing this evening to happen.
In fact, he was pretty damn happy. He’d been attracted to Katja from the moment he’d met her, even though she wasn’t his “typical” type. Regardless, why should he feel bad for getting involved? Claudia was dead.
But Katja was one of Claudia’s chief suspects, Gage reminded himself.
Hey, I’m not a cop. There’s no code of ethics, here.
Or, is there?
It’s not as if I’m taking advantage of a helpless woman. Tonight was her idea.
Gage was suddenly stricken with the feeling that the answer to who killed Karl Vogel was right in front of him. He was missing one critical fact. One.
What is it? Slow down…think.
It had flitted across, directly in front of his mind’s eye—a single vital detail—that would make everything fall into place.
Just as he began to categorize all the things he knew for certain, Katja called out to him.
“Are you coming, or what?” she yelled from the bathroom. “Don’t make me shower alone.”
He remained in bed, reciting the facts, separating them from conjecture.
“I’m really bored,” Katja called out. “I might not be in the mood in another minute.”
Facts be damned, Gage flung the covers aside and joined Katja Vogel under the massive rain showerhead.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Although several inches of early winter wet snow had indeed fallen overnight, the day after the funeral was sunny and crisp. By late morning, there was no snow remaining on the streets or sidewalks. A light breeze hinted at warmer weather and the sunny, cloudless sky filled Gage with optimism that he might eventually determine who had killed Karl Vogel.
Sleeping with Karl Vogel’s daughter might have had something to do with Gage’s buoyed spirits, too. Pain in his leg be damned, he certainly noticed a kick in his step—despite his lack of sleep.
This morning, after enjoying room service breakfast in the room with Katja, they’d driven back to the estate together. Katja asked Gage if she could see him again tonight.
How could he say no? Further reason for his excellent mood.
Following a shower and a change of clothes, Gage ran Sheriff with his Aerobie. Once the dog was sufficiently tired, Gage filled a traveling mug with coffee and drove the Audi to the northeast, again taking Autobahn 5. Once he settled into the right lane in light traffic, he phoned Olga, Karl’s nurse.
After re-introducing himself, Gage asked, “Are you free to talk?”
“For a few minutes.”
In a few brief sentences, Gage explained he was helping to settle the Vogel affairs. Then, he asked, “Would you mind telling me who discovered that Herr Vogel had died?”
“I did. I went into his room at the normal time with his coffee and newspaper. As soon as I opened his curtains I knew.”
“Was there any chance of reviving him?”
“No. He’d been dead for several hours.”
“How long before Claudia arrived in his room?”
“I awoke her immediately.”
“Thanks for clearing that up.” In order to fully focus, Gage pulled into a Parkplatz, parking the Audi as he spoke. “Olga, Karl’s blood tests revealed a high level of catecholamines. Do you know what they are?”
“I recall learning about them in school.”
“They’re consistent with injury or a high level of stress.”
“Okay.”
“Olga, was Karl injured when you found him?”
Silence.
“Olga?”
“Herr
