Grave Intent by Alexander Hartung Page B

Hard to imagine.” Jan shook his head. “We’re overlooking something.”
    “Just have to wait till the tests are done. Can I do something for you, meantime?”
    “Go home and get some sleep. I’ll question the neighbors and take a look around the neighborhood. Tell the others that we’re meeting again this evening. We got a lot to talk about.”
    “Sleep sounds good.”
    “Thanks for the help.”
    “Don’t mention it.”
    Once his friend was gone, Jan leaned against the fence and took a good look at the house. The murderer had not come from the front. There was no rear exit leading from the premises out to any road. So he had come through the neighbors’ yards. The fences were low, and there were no guard dogs in the neighborhood. The crime-scene investigators had examined only Moritz Quast’s property.
    It was time to expand the search radius.

    The murderer must have come with a vehicle. The cemetery in Stahnsdorf was too far for strolling over to. He had checked the street in front of Moritz Quast’s house. Every car there belonged to a neighbor. It was unlikely that the murderer had parked his vehicle there; Fabian and David would’ve noticed. So he had gotten out on a neighboring street.
    To the left of Quast’s house there were ten more houses until the next cross street. Single-family homes with yards not much bigger than the smallest scale caged-in play court. Enough for a barbecue, a flower bed, and a garden shed. Maybe a patio. They all had that same off-white rear facade with its evenly spaced upstairs windows. Idyllic and boring.
    To the right of Quast’s property, Jan made out only three homes. The properties ended at a green area with bushes and trees, likely a type of noise buffer separating the next street over. The shorter the way, the better, he figured. Jan jumped over the fence to the neighbor’s backyard and took a look around.
    The guy living here obviously loved to barbecue. The yard consisted mainly of a patio with a gas grill two yards wide. Next to it stood a table with a stone top and a little outdoor fridge. The grill was covered with clear plastic, and the windows looking out on the patio were shuttered. The owner was probably on vacation.
    Jan looked out over the next house’s yard. Half of the property consisted of lawn. A garden of precisely placed vegetables on the farthest side was an eco-geek’s dream. Jan recognized tomatoes, zucchini, and lettuce next to other greens he didn’t know. In the middle of the garden rows, an older man with a hose was watering the bushes separating his property from that of his neighbor’s on the other side. The man was working so hard not to look in Jan’s direction he was surely going to cramp up. Watering was clearly just an excuse that let him follow the crime-scene investigation going on two houses over. Good thing, too. A neighbor nosy at just the right time could provide that decisive clue.
    “Good morning.” Jan showed his badge from his stance on the empty patio. “My name is Detective Tommen. Berlin Police. Could I ask you a few questions?”
    The man turned off the water, came over to the fence, and shook Jan’s hand. “Anton Möller. Nice to meet you.”
    His eyes lit up. He looked really excited to be questioned.
    “You know what happened here last night?”
    “Someone killed Moritz Quast.” Anton Möller ran a thumb across his neck, rolled his eyes, and made a sound like someone slashing his throat open.
    Jan refrained from remarking on the man’s bizarre sense of humor.
    “You knew Herr Quast?” he asked.
    “Only from Florian’s barbecues.”
    “Florian?”
    “Florian Uland. The one with the huge grill. You’re standing on his property.”
    “He’s not home?”
    “Florian has been on vacation for a week now. Trip through the US. Won’t be back till next month.”
    “What was your impression of Moritz Quast?”
    “Didn’t fit the neighborhood. Mostly families with kids live around here. He was the young