Berlin Seeds: Detective Olaf Bauer, #1

By Nick Buckets

Detective Olaf Bauer thought he'd buried his demons. But when a woman's body turns up with her ovaries missing, old wounds are ripped open.

 

Enter Julia Teichmann: his new partner, a razor-sharp divorcee with a teenage daughter and her own demons. As Olaf and Julia adjust to working together, another body drops. Same chilling signature. Serial killer on the loose.

 

With the clock ticking, Olaf and Julia must confront their own troubled families while hunting a killer who could be anyone—even someone close to home.

 

Will they crack the case before the next strike?

 

___________

 

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING:

 

"Non-stop unexpected ending." — Tabatha S

 

"So many different plot twists and turns and unexpected connections. I loved it!" — S Jeppson 

 

"Main characters are real and likeable" — Nancy O

 

"The intensity of the writing meant that I had to set it down to process and catch my breath even while I wanted to press on to the solution." — V Kenna

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nick Buckets
• Release date: Jul 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224491926

Book preview

Chapter 1

THE DAMN PHONE WOULD NOT STOP ringing.

Detective Olaf Bauer sat bolt upright in bed, grabbed his phone, and activated its silent mode. The caller ID showed Eckhardt Sommer, but his boss and Friday mornings were like oil and water. Olaf let the call go unanswered, waiting for the phone screen to stop flashing. Leaning back, he laced his fingers behind his head. Sommer could wait until Monday.

It was bright outside—too bright. His eyes were struggling to adjust to the light.

He veered to his left and gazed at the woman lying beside him. She was in deep slumber, mouth slightly open, her prominent front teeth standing out. Her red hair bangs spilled to the side, revealing a collection of freckles on her forehead. She was calm in her sleep. Calm and beautiful.

The phone screen flashed once more.

Bauer.

Convince me you’re not sleeping, Sommer said.

Olaf massaged his eyes. I was, until I found myself in the nightmare where my boss disrupts my time off.

Pull yourself together, Bauer. I need you at the precinct.

What happened?

We got a new body.

Olaf said nothing. Of course they got a new body, that was their bread and butter in homicides. Several scenarios darted through his mind, but it was too early for quick thinking. It was too early in general. My furlough is in effect until Monday.

I’m aware of it, because I signed that piece of rubbish myself. But a woman was murdered two nights ago. At first it appeared to be a clan’s work, but not anymore. They dumped the case on us, and I want you to take charge.

Why don’t you ask Walter?

Walter is on his annual leave. He’s likely lounging on some South East Asian beach, sipping coconut cocktails right now. Damn it, Bauer, I’m asking you for a favor. What difference does an extra day make?

Olaf’s gaze flicked to the phone screen: 07:29. His head was punishing him for daring to wake up early. His boss had a point. A day wouldn’t matter. But Olaf wasn’t prepared to reenter the field just yet. He told him as much.

Then you better start looking for another job, Sommer said.

What now?

You heard me. I authorized your furlough to grant you time to get your shit together. But I won’t pay you to fill out paperwork and stay away from the field. Sommer paused to choose the right words. I understand your struggle and how much Anna meant to you, but you have to push through it.

Boss, what I’m asking is—

I’m not interested in your requests. You’re the one who sidelined yourself, but we both know you’re not cut out for a desk job.

Olaf shifted his gaze toward the woman beside him. She was now awake, offering him a smile. She seemed even prettier than before, radiating an aura of natural charm. Her face was one of those that defied the need for makeup.

Bauer? Sommer’s voice pulled him back to the conversation.

Olaf let out a sigh. Fine, I’ll be there in thirty.

Good. You’ll work together with a new partner. She’s from the trafficking department.

"She?"

She.

Forget it. You’re tossing me into a case with a new female partner, after everything that happened with Anna?

That’s correct.

Forget it.

Very well, Sommer said. In that case, there’s no need for you to show up on Monday.

As absurd as that last statement sounded, Sommer was hardly the bluffing type.

The woman next to Olaf slipped off the bed, tugging the sheet to cover herself. She collected her clothes from the floor and exited the room with swift, elegant steps.

Sommer shattered the silence once more. I wanted to tell you this face-to-face, but given that you’re a stubborn brat, you’ll get it through the phone.

So there was more beneath the surface. Olaf bided his time as Sommer cleared his throat.

The victim was Anna’s sister.

Olaf chuckled. Nice try, boss.

I’m not joking.

Anna didn’t have any siblings.

That’s what I also thought, and what everybody else believed. But it’s all documented in the freaking records.

That’s utter nonsense. This phantom sister didn’t even show up at Anna’s funeral.

I know, Sommer said, I was there too. Maybe they had no contact, or maybe they hated each other. I don’t know and frankly, I don’t even care. What’s undeniable is that they were siblings.

Olaf couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that anyone could hate Anna. It was equally baffling that Anna had kept her family background hidden for so many years.

How did the woman die?

It’s complicated. You’ll have to sift through the reports. But there’s a gruesome detail you should know.

Shoot.

Sommer hesitated for a moment. Her ovaries are missing.

A sudden icy shiver ran down Olaf’s spine. His brain’s synapses fired up like a barrage of New Year’s Eve fireworks. He leaped off the bed and scrambled to locate his clothes.

That can’t be right, we arrested the entire gang. Are you telling me that Anna died for nothing?

Sommer let out a long sigh. I’m as confused as you are. You mentioned you’re here in thirty?

At the very latest.

Olaf hung up and buckled up the jeans belt. The bedsheet bore sweat stains right where he had slept. Despite the calendar showing late August, it seemed as if the hot summer had no intention of easing. But even with the sun blazing outside, all he felt inside was frost.

As he retrieved the socks from beneath the bed, Olaf caught Bunny Teeth standing by the door. Her hair was damp, and she was wearing an oversized white T-shirt while clutching a coffee mug. He wondered how she had found the time for all of that.

You’re leaving, she said.

Work calling.

What are you doing for a living?

He gave it a thought. I suppose I solve riddles.

She smiled. You’re funny, she said, sipping from her mug.

As Olaf strode past her on his way out of the bedroom, a subtle scent of fresh grapefruit reached his senses. He grabbed his leather jacket from the sofa, heading to the door. The coffee aroma was so enticing, tempting him to linger for a cup or two. Anna would have understood him, sharing his passion for coffee. Except, now she wasn’t around anymore to savor it, and that had been his fault.

He kneeled down to put on his boots.

Are you leaving because of this Anna?

Olaf straightened up and met the woman’s emerald green eyes. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure, but it seems that way.

He opened the door and stepped outside of the apartment.

Bunny Teeth came after him.

Last night was amazing, she said.

Yeah, it was.

You never mentioned your name.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

Don’t bother, I’ll simply call you Riddle. Her face darkened. If we ever cross paths again, anyhow.

She slammed the door shut, leaving him standing in the dimly-lit corridor.

Olaf shrugged his shoulders and zipped up his jacket. Melodrama was the last thing he needed at the moment.

Anna popped up in his mind as he hastened down the stairs.

Chapter 2

JULIA TEICHMANN PULLED OVER BY THE school entrance. Have a fantastic day, honey. I’ll be back to collect you later, alright?

You really don’t have to, mom.

Alina? Didn’t we already go over this?

It’s so embarrassing, mom. Nobody else in my class has their parents picking them up. Can’t you understand?

Julia smiled. I’ll be waiting here at one-thirty.

Alina exited the car, slamming the door behind her, and walked toward the school with her head down.

Julia observed the pupils arriving. Some were being brought by car, while others strolled alongside their parents. Only the older ones arrived in clusters, and she couldn’t imagine Alina blending into any of those groups.

The concept of immigration background had a different meaning within this school. Four out of every five kids either had a foreign passport or a parent who did, like Alina. Samir and Julia had clashed hard on this matter. She wanted Alina to benefit from the best educational system available, and this Sonnenallee high school was far from a stellar choice. Samir wasn’t as concerned. After all, Alina was a binational child, fluent in both German and Turkish.

They settled on giving it a shot and reassess the situation after a year.

The honk of a bus driver behind her snapped her out of her trance. Starting the car engine, she rolled to the traffic light.

Unofficially dubbed the Arabic Street, Sonnenallee made for a charming neighborhood. A blend of Arabic bakeries, barber shops, falafel eateries, and hookah lounges spread along both sides of the avenue. A busy oriental atmosphere, rich with spices and smells.

She’ll manage just fine, Julia thought. Alina had survival instincts.

The radio played Grandmaster Flash. Julia turned up the volume and pressed down on the gas pedal, leaving the Arabic world behind her.

She was navigating a narrow street near the precinct when a motorcyclist behind her pulled a reckless stunt. Julia slammed on the brakes to avoid a collision, honking hard and cursing loudly at the biker.

Slowing down, the man raised his arm and showed his middle finger. In the next moment, he ignored the red traffic light and disappeared from sight.

Julia screamed, slamming her hands against the steering wheel. Asshole!

The area around the precinct only had a handful of parking spaces left, as a recent construction project had devoured a dozen of them. Julia spent fifteen minutes scouring for one.

At the precinct, she showed her badge to the disinterested guard at the entrance and took the elevator to the top floor, where she would rendezvous with Eckhardt Sommer.

She located him in his office, gazing out of the window.

Ah, you arrived, Sommer said.

He sported tan slacks, a white shirt, and suspenders, looking fresh and alert.

They had crossed paths a few years ago at the annual police Christmas celebration. They had clicked immediately, spending a good amount of the evening chatting over cups of mulled wine. Sommer carried a dreary reputation, but Julia paid no attention to gossip. She got excited when he reached out to involve her in a new case. She had toyed with the idea of transferring to the homicide division for a while, and this case could be her ticket.

When will the construction outside be completed? Julia asked. It has become impossible to park.

When was the last occasion Berlin met a construction deadline?

True, but I thought they only had to replace the faulty pipes.

Right, Sommer said. And they only had to build an airport.

Julia smiled. She had a gut feeling she would fancy her new post.

Let’s go to meet Bauer, Sommer said, and they descended a flight of stairs to the homicides one floor below.

Bauer was at his desk, staring at a case file spread before him, a hand firmly planted on his bald head.

Olaf Bauer, meet Julia Teichmann, Sommer said.

Julia approached him, and they exchanged a handshake.

You two will be working together on this case, Sommer said, shifting his gaze between them. We’ve got briefing in one hour, he added before exiting the room.

Julia approached the vacant desk and set her bag on it. Is this desk free?

It was until now.

She studied Bauer as he picked up a pen from the desk and headed to the door. He stood at an average height, with a lean build that was evident even beneath the tight, washed out jeans. A striking gray T-shirt draped over his chest.

Herr Sommer mentioned you have a connection to the victim? Julia asked.

Bauer pivoted to face her, his piercing brown eyes impossible to penetrate.

I’m sorry about what happened to your partner, she said.

No, you’re not. Bauer’s long fingers toyed with the metallic pen, twirling it and spinning it around. His chiseled jawline twitched a bit. You didn’t know her. There’s no reason for you to be sorry she’s gone.

Julia hesitated. Herr Sommer briefed me on the case and its link to your former partner. I understand she passed away during a field operation?

Bauer showed no reaction.

I’m only trying to break the ice here, okay?

Did it work?

Bauer kept staring at her like a statue. Only his fingers were moving. Julia wondered if he had even blinked during their conversation.

Which unit do you come from? Bauer asked.

Human trafficking.

He appeared to mull it over. What else did Sommer tell you about me?

Julia frowned. What do you mean?

He obviously informed you about Anna’s death. Did he disclose any more information?

She shook her head. I’m not sure I follow.

Whatever, he said after a few moments. I suppose I’ll see you later.

Julia watched him leaving and found herself breathing easier as he walked away. Retrieving the case file, she sat down to go through it. She would peek at Bauer’s unoccupied chair across her every once in a while, wondering if she had made the right decision.

Chapter 3

THE BRIEFING ROOM WAS A COMPACT, claustrophobic area that once functioned as a storage room. Lacking windows and natural light, it had previously served as an interrogation chamber. That was before Sommer was appointed director. After taking charge, he had convinced the right people to finance a proper, secure interview space. In contrast, the briefing room looked more like an inquisition torture chamber.

Yiannis and Julia Teichmann were already present. Piles of paper and documents were spread across the large table.

Olaf walked over, taking a seat. I suppose you two have already been introduced.

Yiannis gazed at him with a cross of joy and surprise. You look like a wreck with that beard.

At the age of thirty-five, Yiannis Papatheodorou was a natural tech-savvy. It was almost as if he had been born with a keyboard in his grasp. There was no virtual rock he couldn’t lift. Now, he was sweating beneath one of his oversized flannels that still managed to appear tight on him. His fingers danced across the keyboard, like they always did. Yiannis was the principal analyst and was damn good at the job. If he couldn’t unearth information, then it didn’t exist in the first place.

Shut up, Yiannis. What do we know?

Great to have you back, I missed your uplifting mood. The victim’s name is Berta Mayer. Her neighbor grew anxious when she couldn’t reach her, and called the police last night. They had regular contact. The old lady loves baking cookies and Berta Mayer loved eating them. She knocked on her door two days in a row, hearing the cat’s meowing from within the apartment. ‘Berta would never abandon her cat without telling me to look after him’, she said. The rest is history. He handed over a page. Here’s the address, and the forensics team is already en route.

Berta Mayer, the lost sister. Are we absolutely certain about her and Anna being sisters?

Yiannis nodded.

Every third person out there is named Mayer.

Christ, Olaf. There’s no doubt about this. Yiannis pushed a pair of printed pages across the table. Unless someone went through the hassle of falsifying federal records, Anna and Berta were sisters.

And now they were both dead. Did Hagen send a report?

Are you referring to the coroner? Teichmann asked. It’s right here.

Olaf scanned the document, confirming what Sommer had told him earlier. Both of the victim’s ovaries were missing, indicating human organ trafficking. Organ trafficking, the antique shop, the shooting—the painful memories invaded his mind.

We were under the impression we got them all, Olaf said. Yiannis, have you already cross-checked the trafficking gang?

I’m on it right now. Yiannis typed frantically onto his laptop, his tongue poking out between his lips. He shook his head several times. According to our database, they’re all behind bars. Every known node of the network is either jailed or dead.

Olaf nodded and read through the rest of the report. The killer of Berta Mayer had operated with a surgical precision, suggesting a deep understanding of human anatomy. The neighboring tissue remained undamaged, while traces of isoflurane were found in the woman’s blood.

What’s this iso—

It’s a chemical substance used for inhalation anesthesia, Teichmann said, as though she were simultaneously reading the report.

Olaf glimpsed at her and caught her scanning him.

No signs of physical violence other than the fatal stab, Hagen had written. Cause of death: heart failure due to acute puncture by a pointed implement.

He winced at the information he had just read. So, the killer anesthetized her, carried out a precise surgical operation to extract her ovaries, and then proceeded to stab her in the heart? As if she were a damn vampire?

Yiannis shrugged. It aligns with the location of the crime scene.

Olaf had read that segment twice in the police report. Berta Mayer was murdered in a cemetery. The caretaker had found her lying inside a tomb house, dead and naked.

Vampires and mythology won’t bring us anywhere, Teichmann said.

That was something Olaf agreed to. He set the document on the table. And reading this report won’t either. Let’s have a look at her apartment.

Teichmann broke the silence in the elevator. Should we use your car or mine?

I don’t own one, but I could give you a lift on my motorbike if you’re up for it.

She rolled her eyes. No thanks. Let’s take my car this time.

They exited the precinct and headed to the parking lot. Trailing her, he cursed his luck when she stopped to unlock a silver, decade-old Volkswagen Golf. She tossed her bag onto the rear seat before settling into the driver’s seat. The passenger’s window slid downward.

What are you waiting for? she said from inside the car.

Olaf opened the passenger’s door and sank into the seat. Pulling the safety belt, he said, I’m sorry for before.

What do you mean?

For passing you at the traffic light earlier. Sorry about the middle finger, too.

He sensed the gears turning inside her brain, connecting the dots. Her eyes narrowed.

Apology accepted, she said, firing up the engine.

They drove in silence for a while.

This former partner of yours, Teichmann said. Did you have a close relationship?

Olaf kept gazing out of the window. Yes, but not the kind of relationship you’re suggesting.

I’m not suggesting anything, just trying to understand why she concealed her family's history.

That was something Olaf also wanted to understand. No clue. But knowing Anna, she surely had her reasons. He looked at Teichmann who was driving with caution, always decelerating at every yellow traffic light. Why does that matter?

You and she exposed an organ trafficking network about a month ago. Now her sister is dead, with two of her organs missing. She pursed her lips together. Do you believe that’s a coincidence?

He thought about it. He didn’t believe in coincidences, but it was too early to draw any conclusions. Maybe. I don’t know about you, but I prefer relying on evidence instead of theories.

Teichmann shook her head in disapproval. She turned on the music and noisy rap beats filled the car. She pressed the gas pedal and sped through the next traffic light just as it transitioned to yellow.

Chapter 4

THE APARTMENT WAS LOCATED AT THE juncture of Friesenstraße and Columbiadamm, just across the historic Tempelhof airport. The building was newly erected, with large floor-to-ceiling windows and wide balconies. Olaf could nearly smell the freshly painted gray corridor walls. Berta Mayer’s apartment was positioned in the back, overlooking the courtyard.

They flashed their badges at the police guard before entering. Forensics hadn’t yet arrived, so they couldn’t touch anything. Walking around without disturbing anything was a challenge.

There was cat food all over the place, both fresh and already consumed. Peeking into the kitchen, Olaf saw a large bag of dry cat food lying torn apart. He failed to locate the feline and assumed the neighbor must have taken care of it. There were no signs of fight or violence, and the vomited cat food aside, the kitchen was tidy.

He surveyed the cozy apartment that must have cost Berta Mayer a fortune. The living room was crammed with two large bookshelves and a sofa. A black metallic sideboard ran along one of the walls, hosting a flat TV screen and a blue vase with dried red roses.

Teichmann was standing in front of the bookshelf. What the hell are these?

Olaf went over. Next to a bunch of cheap thriller books were glass tubes with preserved specimens in formalin. Most of them contained large insects, like scorpions and spiders, but there were also a couple of frogs and a mouse.

Teichmann turned away from the bookshelf, holding her mouth. That’s sick.

He pointed at a door. Bathroom’s over there. He noticed a gap in the row of jars, as if one was missing.

There were posters adorning the walls, featuring cult horror films with zombies and other creatures. A human-size skeleton stood next to the cat playground. Berta Mayer was all about grim and darkness.

Olaf called Yiannis. Why is the forensics team taking so damn long?

They were in a car accident. Nothing major, but they’re waiting for the police to arrive.

You gotta be kidding me.

Did you find anything useful in the woman’s apartment?

Olaf glanced at the formalin jars. We found stuff alright, but I’m not sure what to make of them yet. He spotted a desk on the other corner of the living room. There’s a computer over here. Make sure you get your hands on it once they bring it in.

Sure thing.

Olaf rang off, pocketed the phone and tilted his head to read the titles of the books next to the skeleton. They were all about anatomy and medicine. Berta Mayer, a thirty-six-year-old medical personnel who loved horror movies and stuffed animals. And all this time, he thought Anna was the weird one.

Teichmann came back. Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with people today?

He shrugged. What could he say, the usual clichés about loneliness in the big city? Berta Mayer wasn’t more or less wacko than any of them. She just maintained eccentric hobbies.

They walked into the bedroom, which was so narrow that only a bed and a closet fit inside. There was a book on the floor: The Tomb, by H. P. Lovecraft.

Teichmann opened the closet and smiled. A friend of mine says ‘show me your clothes and I’ll tell you who you are’. Maybe Berta Mayer was a goth, but she slept in pink pajamas with Snoopy and Woodstock.

Back at the living room, Olaf kneeled down to inspect the lower shelves of the bookshelf. A book looked like a photo album. Got any plastic gloves?

Teichmann shook her head.

It’s pointless. We cannot touch anything before forensics arrives, and they won’t be here for another hour. He stood up. Let’s go, they’ll bring in everything later.

They toe-walked back to the apartment entrance. A wall-mounted coat rack with crosses instead of hooks lay empty. There was a three-leg wooden stool below it serving as a pedestal. A poorly crafted statue the size of a shoebox lay on it. It was a grayish figurine that was supposed to depict something Olaf couldn’t decipher.

Teichmann’s head popped behind the door. Coming?

Look at this. He took out his phone and photographed the statue. It was a cross of an ancient Egyptian woman and a hippo. Hieroglyphics were carved on its square base.

What is it supposed to show?

Teichmann frowned, her thumb pointing toward the living room. There’s animals in formalin jars in there, Bauer, and you’re fascinated by this?

Teichmann was right, but something about this ugly sculpture captivated him. Maybe because it lay there out of context. Maybe this statue serves a purpose by being next to the entrance door. Like a protection mechanism.

I thought you didn’t fancy making theories. Teichmann looked at her watch. I gotta leave, anyway. Have to get back to my daughter.

Daughter.

Of course, Teichmann had a daughter. She had a daughter and a husband and enjoyed a happy married life, even without wearing a wedding ring. Teichmann came from a good bourgeois family, Olaf had smelled that a mile away. Financially well-off, educated, raised up with good manners and respect. Of course, she’d have a daughter to pass all that love down to the next generation.

It was natural. Conventional. Traditional.

It was only a few days later he would regret for being so biased.

Chapter 5

IT’S DELICIOUS, GRANDMA!

Julia observed her daughter devouring the last remaining meat pieces on her plate. Sophie Teichmann had prepared one of her specialties, roasted deer served with rosemary potatoes.

Why don’t you ever make this, mom?

Julia had inherited many qualities from her parents, but cooking wasn’t one of them. We have to ask grandma for her secret recipe. She fixed Sophie with a piercing look. Your grandma has been full of secrets lately.

Yes, grandma! Then my mom can cook it and we won’t have to eat noodles every day.

Sophie smiled a cautious smile.

Reiner Teichmann cleared his throat. Shall we go upstairs for my birthday present? Or haven’t you practiced well enough?

I practiced the whole past week, grandpa. Let’s go! Alina jumped up, taking her grandfather’s hand.

Sophie got up too, a glass