Free Dead Woods by Maria C Poets

again and then started to nod and seemed unable to stop nodding. “Philip, that son of a bitch,” he finally said in a halting voice. “He’s the one responsible for all this.” He made a vague gesture that included the table, the beer bottles, the kitchen, and the entire house that no longer was a home. “That shithead ruined me. It was all perfect. I thought, super, finally a great job . And then . . . bang! No chance. Herr Birkner screwed me, screwed me good. He looked for a fall guy and found me.” He hiccupped and checked whether there was some beer left in one of the bottles on the table, but Max was already searching for a glass in the empty cupboards. He filled it with tap water and handed it to Frank Jensen. Jensen emptied it in one gulp and then shook his head. “And the guy is dead now, you tell me?”
    He seemed to notice Max for the first time. Then he looked at Lina.
    “Who was it?” Jensen asked.
    When neither of them answered, he started to laugh—scratchy and coughing, as if his body no longer knew how to do it properly.
    “You think I did it?” He snorted. “Well, super, that’s all I need. But hey, it’s all full of shit, anyway. Job gone, wife gone, house gone—maybe I did do it. Who knows?” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, he deserved it!” And then he shook his head.
    “Herr Jensen, I have to ask you to come with us to police headquarters.” Max paused. “Would you like to change clothes before we go?”
    Jensen looked at himself and seemed to notice the stains on his pants and T-shirt only now. He slumped down and nodded silently.
    “Come along.” Max helped him get up and go upstairs. Lina waited in front of the closed bathroom door while Frank Jensen freshened up. In the bedroom, Max discovered a shelf with a few T-shirts and shirts, and on a hook in the wall two suits, still in the plastic wrap from the dry cleaner’s. He took out one of the suits and folded it over his arm. In the other hand he held a white shirt—he looked like a butler.
    The only sound from the bathroom was running water. Max looked at Lina and she knocked on the door. “Herr Jensen?” she said loudly. No answer. She pushed the door handle down. The door was locked. After glancing briefly at Max, she ran down the stairs and into the garden. She looked up. The bathroom window was open, and a naked figure was clinging to the gutter at the corner of the house. Lina didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to scare the man. Considering his condition, Frank Jensen was descending the downspout with astonishing agility. He jumped the last three feet, crouched, and couldn’t get up again.
    Lina approached him slowly. “Why don’t you just stay here, Herr Jensen? You can’t go anywhere, naked as you are.”
    She took his right arm to help him get up, but he tried to shake her off, lost his balance, and remained bent over on the ground.
    Max had joined them by then, still carrying the suit. “That wasn’t a good idea, Herr Jensen,” he said and sounded as if he really regretted it.
    “I know. Sorry,” mumbled the naked man, trying to cover himself.
    Lina and Max pulled him up together. Frank Jensen did not resist, but he also made no effort to help them. Assisted by Max, he put on the trousers and the shirt, and Lina draped the jacket over his shoulders. He was pale and bloated, as if he had subsisted on beer and fast food for a long time.
    “Come along,” Max said to the man.
    Lina ran back in to get a bag with his used clothes, the hiking boots, and the one pair of good leather shoes. She saw a key on a hook in the hallway and used it to lock up.
     
    A note from Hanno waited for them in their office at headquarters. “The autopsy report is in. Come over as soon as you’re back.” While Lina brought the bag with Jensen’s clothes and shoes to forensics, Max went to their boss’s office and knocked on the open door. Hanno looked up, as did Sebastian, who was sitting across from