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

head. ‘Not really. Carl Beerfeldt knew all about the store’s finances when he bought it. He never seemed all that bothered about the losses.’
    ‘Only rich people can afford to think like that,’ Max mused.
    ‘According to Miss Suzuki, he always seemed very relaxed about money. He even gave the staff a bonus at Christmas. The first time ever.’
    ‘How very festive of him,’ Max mused.
    ‘They thought he was a bit soft.’
    ‘There’s gratitude for you.’ Max scratched his neck. ‘No one here seems particularly bothered that their employer and his entire family have been brutally slaughtered, do they?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘I suppose we’ve checked out all of the employees?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Michael tartly, ‘ I have. There’s only a dozen of them. Apart from Suzuki, they’re all part-time.’
    Max looked at him expectantly.
    ‘Pretty much what you’d expect. Students, slackers and bookworms.’
    Max grunted. ‘No professional killers, then.’
    ‘Doesn’t look like it.’
    ‘Pfff. This is turning into harder work than we might have hoped. Leads?’
    Michael shook his head. ‘We haven’t really got any.’
    ‘O-kay.’ For a moment, the Kriminalinspektor stared up at the cobwebs hanging from the light fitting above his head. ‘He certainly didn’t spend any money on cleaners, at least.’
    ‘Huh?’
    Max pointed at a grimy window, ‘The place is filthy.’ Another question popped into his head. ‘Who owned it before Beerfeldt?’
    ‘Er, no idea,’ Michael admitted.
    ‘Well, find out.’ Looking up, Max was disappointed to see Suzuki had disappeared. ‘Go and see if motorbike girl has got their details.’
     
    ‘Hey Max, wake up.’
                  ‘Huh?’ Opening his eyes, the Kriminalinspektor shrugged off Michael’s hand on his shoulder.
                  The sergeant took a step backwards. ‘You dozed off.’
                  ‘No at all,’ leaning forward, Max stretched out his arms and legs, ‘I was just thinking.’
                  ‘Yeah, right,’ Michael grinned. ‘How is the hangover?’
    ‘At least I’m in better shape than Gerber,’ Max chuckled. ‘Serves the silly old bugger right. All that running around was never going to do him any good.’
    ‘Got them,’ Michael waved his pocket notebook at Max.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The previous owners of the book store. They live out in Charlottenburg.’
    ‘Good.’ Max struggled to his feet and began rubbing his temples. It was barely eleven thirty in the morning, but he felt like a beer. Or, rather, he needed a beer. A quick trawl through his mental Rolodex came up with a list of three bars within a couple of blocks that should be open. ‘Let’s take a quick look round here then go and grab a bite to eat.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘After lunch, you can head over to see the old owners this afternoon, while I pursue some other lines of enquiry.’
    ‘What other lines of enquiry?’
    ‘I just want to check a couple of things out.’ Max gave him a half smile. ‘I’ll tell you if they turn out to be fruitful.’
    Michael gave him a quizzical look but didn’t enquire any further.  He half turned away, then turned back. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. While you were thinking , I called the Institut für Rechtsmedizin. Hannah Leicht is working on her report but it’s gonna take a bit of time.’
    ‘I can imagine,’ Max replied, not particularly interested. ‘But we know what it’s gonna say – they all died from gunshot wounds.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Michael nodded, ‘but there is one other thing that has come up so far.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘The fifteen-year-old step-daughter –’
    ‘Yeah?’ Max said warily, not liking where this was going.
    ‘She was three months pregnant.’
    ‘Great.’ Now he really needed that beer. ‘Let’s give it five minutes,’ he sighed, ‘then we’ll get going.’
    While Michael went to nose around in the storeroom, Max casually inspected the books beside the