Read Online A Slow Death (Max Drescher Book 1) by James Craig - Free Book Online Page A

might have started out as a law enforcement officer, but now he was 100% bureaucrat. As far as Max was concerned, he served no useful purpose whatsoever; the sooner he was despatched to the dole queue the better.
    Max’s hangover was not helped by the stuffy atmosphere in the room. The Kriminalkommissar’s office smelled like a locker room that hadn’t been cleaned in months. Evidently, the air conditioning was broken again and, even at this time in the morning, he could make out the dark stains under the armpits of Marin’s C&A shirt. There was more than a whiff of B.O. in the room; hoping it wasn’t him, Max began breathing through his mouth. Beginning to feel like the unfortunate Martina Sammer, he struggled not to show his disgust at his surroundings. The temptation to get up and open the window at the back of the room was almost overwhelming.
    ‘Where the hell have you been this morning?’ Marin growled, returning his gaze to the desk. ‘The day is almost half over, already.’
    For you, maybe. ‘I went to see Gerber at the Institut für Rechtsmedizin,’ Max lied effortlessly, knowing full well that his boss wouldn’t bother to check his story out.
    A look of horror spread across Michael’s face.
    By contrast, Marin offered up a sly grin. ‘Gerber? You went to see the senior pathologist, did you?’
    ‘Yes,’ Max nodded.
    ‘On his own slab was he?’
    What? Flustered, Max cast a rather desperate sideways glance at his sergeant.
    ‘I think that he was taken to the Herrmann Strauss hospital,’ Michael said quickly. ‘The Kriminalinspektor didn’t know about his fatal heart attack until he arrived this morning.’
    Heart attack? Staring at Marin’s ratty carpet, Max stifled a grin. Poor old Gerber. So much of the benefits of being a fitness fanatic.
    ‘I always thought that Gerber overdid it with his exercise regimes,’ Marin mused. ‘But I never thought that he’d keel over during a six kilometre fun run in Grunewald.’
    ‘It was a total shock.’ Max tried to keep a sombre look on his face.
    ‘We are organising a collection,’ Michael added, ‘for the family.’
    Good luck with that, Max thought.
    Marin made no effort to reach for his wallet. Instead, lifting his arm aloft, he clicked his fingers, like a hungry diner summoning a waiter. ‘It just shows, any one of us can go – bang – just like that.’
    ‘Yes,’ Max shot another quick look at Michael. The bastard seemed to be enjoying his discomfort. ‘You can never be too careful. You hear stories of people overdoing it all over the place these days. Exercise can be a dangerous business.’
    Too much exercise was never going to be a problem for the Kriminalkommissar. Marin looked down at his stomach and smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’
    For a moment, the three men contemplated their own mortality.
    Finally, Michael tried to dig his immediate boss out of the hole he had dug for himself. ‘With Gerber, er, out of the picture, Leicht has taken over the Beerfeldt case.’
    ‘Indeed,’ Max nodded, having used the pause to regain his composure. ‘I spoke to him this morning.’
    ‘Her,’ Michael groaned.
    ‘Yes, sorry. Her .’ He gave Marin an apologetic shrug. ‘It’s been a long day already.’
    The Kriminalkommissar looked suitably unimpressed. ‘So, have you got the report?’
    ‘No. It’s not finished yet. The whole thing was a hell of a mess.’
    ‘A bit of a wasted trip then,’ Marin growled, ‘wasn’t it?’
    ‘I want to get on with it.’ Recovering a semblance of poise, Max grinned at Michael, who was staring at his shoes. ‘This case will be a right bastard. I know how much pressure there will be to get it solved quickly.’
    ‘Damn right.’ Marin took his cigar from between his teeth and dropped it into a small tin ashtray on his desk. ‘So what have you got, so far?’
    ‘It was clearly a professional hit,’ said Michael. ‘Not some out of control domestic argument.’
    ‘Tell me something I