The office of the Omnimox Gülden storm was inconspicuous, almost hidden, behind a twelve-meter-high wall of typically gray rock, which he had built to protect himself from clients.
The only recognizable path in Omnimox Chancellery was across the wall, which was virtually impossible due to the knife blades set horizontally in the wall. Many a daring neo-hero had lost one or the other finger while attempting to enter the attorney’s office of his choice, for the blades themselves cut through metal as if through butter, or even better: air.
For the astute lawyer, however, this wall was by no means an obstacle.
Omnimox wanted to enter his property, he simply picked up a specially prepared for this purpose stone dummy and crept cozy, smoking cigar mostly through a four-meter-long tunnel.
A simple and innocuous principle with security holes, as he knew himself. Would someone observe him as he entered his domicile, the wall would be just as useless as in Berlin. But here, too, he pursued his own personal principle:
“The simpler and more obvious something works, the harder it is to find out, because man tends to want to surpass himself, and the simplest thing seems so frivolously unreasonable to him, a simple task is not worth it.”
You have to say that so far he had really been lucky. Although he had been seen many times while passing his tunnel, most of it did not matter.
Maybe he was right in his own, eccentric way.
But why – and that, in turn, they all wondered, the neighbors, the gardeners, the police, even the president of the Dachshund Club – why should a lawyer who depends on his clients, ie people who come to him and ask for help want to prevent them from reaching him?
Even the answer to this question is simple and therefore probably unrecognizable: Omnimox Güldengestürm hated the law, the court, the bureaucracy in general, organs for self-protection, and the German Post.
He became a lawyer because his father wanted it. Oh yes, his father wanted – as is usual – a lot, an excellent education for example, or to be full without eating. He also wanted to pass on the estate to his son Omnimox, which he later did.
But what’s most interesting about this messy story about walls, fathers, cops and lawyers abhorring the law was that the lawyer named Omnimox Güldengestürm was lying in his study, a knife in his back, a pool of blood under his body, and one mysterious message in post-it note form on his wall.
If anyone reads this, I’m probably dead, Omnimox Gülden storm.
Isabelle Konkenzänker, Schwarzmut Würbelsäul, Margarethe Markgerede.
These three names and a phone number that was so straightforward (000 – 11001) that it could only belong to one man: Strongly Intelligence, educated and renowned private investigator for the unsolvable cases.
What should all this mean?
*
Stark sat in his far too dark room – he had not paid any utility bills – and stared at the flame of his far too small candle – he had cooked it from the remnants of old candles.
The business was not thriving, he could barely afford the half-fumed cigarette butt that stuck between his lips like an accessory. He smoked a train every three hours with relish, lit it, turned it off again, lit it again, and so on.
The problem, Stark thought, is that all – but really without exception – all cases are solvable. Since I only accept unsolvable cases … Maybe I should relax my business practices a bit and settle for shadowing adulterers.
He shook his head.
No, he was not allowed to do that, it would contradict his principles too much, for he had sworn on the head of his teacher that everything insoluble seemed almost insoluble, because it had to be solvable, but one simply did not want to understand it. He had vowed to regard everything insoluble as a challenge, but … Well, now he himself faced an insoluble case. How was he to hold his detective agency when no one wanted to hire him, when there were no unsolvable cases to solve?
Again he shook his head – this time out of confusion. He no longer understood himself, which happened to him relatively often.
A wonder, that’s what I need!
Stark got up and walked to his only cupboard where his trophies, certificates, and all sorts of newspaper articles hung with, over, or from him. He opened the cupboard and … it was too dark, the candle was not enough.
Yes, a sudden call, or even better, an unknown beauty hurrying into my office at the very moment I catch my cigarette … She throws herself around my neck, asking me to solve a case that … there are others Words for unsolvable?
The private investigator sat down again and sat back.
Would he have to close the detective agency?
His lighter cracked open and a small flame struck him. Cautiously he sucked on the cigarette and lit her, when the door flew open and a beautiful blonde sobbing stormed into his much too dark room, threw himself around his neck and lingered crying. A sweetish smell clouded his mind.
“Now calm down.”, Stark tried his masculine voice, “Everything will be fine.”
The blonde saw him with her baby blue deer eyes – how paradox! Her lips quivered with excitement and her hair shone like spun gold in the faint candlelight.
“Why did you draw the curtains?” She asked only, “It is bright daylight.”
“I sink into self-pity.” Stark replied.
“That’s nice, so you already know it?”
“To know, what?”
Shy and sad, the blond beauty looked down – almost like a deer – before she answered him:
“To be suspected of murder, me … and you!”
This surprised even Stark, hit him like the precise stroke of a heavyweight world champion in exactly the right place, tore him off his feet, whirling him through the air, leaving him moaning and gasping, gasping for breath on the ground – at least symbolically.
“So you do not know …?”
“No, tell me what happened,” demanded Stark, the detective in pitiful position.
Well, there was this wall and the lawyer who did not want clients, this strange stone that was not a man and a piece of paper that … ”
“Please tell me so that I can understand it.”
“That should perhaps better take over the narrator, do not you think?”, Breathed this insanely attractive creature.
All right, here’s what happened:
*
Omnimox Gülden storm was in his own blood in his own office, he was dead.
By the circumstances mentioned, that tragic death might never have come to light if the post-it note had not released itself by a sudden wind and fluttered through an open window over the wall and directly onto the windshield of a patrol car, which then crashed which allowed a petty criminal to escape from the backseat to freedom, three months later to the state bank and then to jail.
The police, who had to record the accident (license plate, location of the accident, accident cause, etc.), soon realized the meaning behind the mysterious message and ordered reinforcements to get over the wall in Omnimox Garden. The tunnel and the stone were found twelve uniforms and three civilians later, which of course made things easier.
The forensic doctor’s findings showed Messer’s death in the back and the senior officer ordered to locate the people on the list and dial the phone number to find out who it belonged to.
Needless to say, one of the officers shouted something like “I know, it belongs to this detective, Strong Intelligence!” Because the leader dismissed this comment with a simple wave of his hand. Actually impressive – as if you could wipe out words with a movement.
*
“Ha!”, Stark interrupted the narrator, “If that was true, then why have not I been …”
The phone rang and Stark spat the burning filter on the floor before picking it up.
“Detective agency Strongly Intelligence – We solve the seemingly impossible,” he reported.
The blonde watched him with relish.
“Commissioner Künzel Ölmenrenner on the phone, listen, we have a few questions because of …”
“The murder of Omnimox Güldenstürm, right?”
A short break at the other end of the line.
“Oh, but you know a lot about it, have you had anything to do with it?” The commissioner asked.
“No, not yet, but the way I see it, I’m getting more and more involved in this story … I’ll call you back as soon as I can find out more details. Listen again.”, Stark finished the call.
The commissary on the other end was so puzzled that he no longer dared to call back, in fact he could never touch a phone again or be in the same room as one of those devices.
Commissioner Künzel Ölmenrenner died when he wanted to offer him a mobile phone with a contract.
But enough of it.
Stark looked out of the window and against the shutter, his candle flickering only lightly, she was about to go out soon. The blonde sat in a chair and lit a cigarette, which tore the detective out of his stupor.
“Maybe you have one more? I think better when I smoke, just as I read better, write and live when I smoke.”
The Bambiblondine nodded, handed him a cigarette and gave him her name.
“Margarethe Markgerede … I’m Strong Intelligence, but you probably know that, which is striking to my keenly trained mind … Omnimox Güldengestürm was a lawyer, but hid behind a wall, even using a secret passage to reach his own law firm So let’s assume that nobody in his office could wait for him, then … “, he beamed all over his face,” then we have an insoluble case here! ”
“Well, I dare to doubt that … suicide can be ruled out and there were three names on it and their phone number – those are the suspects, are not they?” Margaret asked between two moves.
“At this point, I have to correct you, Ms. Markgerede, as you know, my reputation precedes me, so it is likely that Omnimox, who has no confidence in the capabilities of the police and the so-called judiciary, knew it would be tricky to clear a murder under these conditions, my number left to make sure right away that I will be turned on. “, Stark also took a drag on his cigarette,” As for the suspects, I must agree with you, it is currently only three people in question: you and the other two people on the note, so we need the note or at least a copy. ”
Margarethe smiled triumphantly.
“I wrote down the names when Commissar Ölmenrenner interrogated me – Margarethe Markgerede, Schwarzmut Würbelsäul and Isabelle Konkenzänker – but I have to tell you that I have never heard of either one or the other.”
The detective nodded and noted the names on his left forearm, in his opinion the only sure way to get notes. Then he looked into Margarethe’s innocent face.
“I still have to ask you anyway,” he finally said after a few uncomfortable seconds of staring.
“But why? What do you promise to clear up the case? No one hired you.”
If Mr. Güldengestürm, with the wise foreknowledge of his sudden demise, was still able to leave my number, he would certainly have had enough of his mind to pay a corresponding fee, at which point it is waiting for me but questionable, just like your alibi. ”
“You are as bona fide as you look.” Margarethe snapped.
“That will still show, Mrs. Markgerede”
“You may call me Margarethe, Stark.”
“I do not think that makes a big difference, but I’d like to know how you know the deceased, or at least … why he knows you?”
Stark opened his windows and pulled up the shutter.
The light flooded the sparsely furnished room and played on Margarethe’s body, her curves, her . How long ago was that …?
Stark shook his head, there was no time for that.
But that seemed to be the point at which he and Margarethe differed. She got up, approached the brooding detective and kissed him. As much as Stark tried to fight back – now, as far as a man can defend himself in such a situation – he lost the fight. The desk was emptied and the two strangers slept together as if there was no tomorrow.
*
The next morning Stark almost fled his detective agency.
“She behaved like the usual prime suspect in a murder case … Throws herself at the private investigator to avoid further questions Well, for now, let me have the right,” he thought and headed for the nearest phone booth for addresses to find out about the other two suspects.
After ten minutes he had learned everything he wanted to know and pulled a small silver coin out of his coat pocket. A targeted throw should let chance decide who Stark would go to next. Either – head – Isabelle Konkenzänker or – number – Schwarzmut Würbelsäul.
Strangely enough, chance did not settle down and the coin remained on its edge – contrary to any probability calculation. In Stark Intelligence Brain, a subconscious switch around a small switch, a suspicious moment of inducement arose, but could not be seized by his creator.
Out of laziness he finally chose the path to Schwarzmut Würbelsäul, his apartment was only two streets away and it started to drizzle anyway and three minutes later it was supposed to pour out of the clouds as if God himself wanted to remind people of the episode with the Noah’s Ark.
Totally drenched, Stark stood quarter of an hour later in front of the gray block of flats where Schwarzmut Würbelsäul lived, noticed the completely overcrowded mailbox and expected the worst when he rang.
When no one answered the fears increased and Stark rang so long at the other roommates, until the front door with a nerve-tearing Bzzzzz! Opened and he could poke up the stairs.
The front door was open, but the lock showed no signs of breaking.
“Hello?” Was the most sensible thing the detective could think of when he entered the apartment.
Even before he had looked around, Stark knew that he would not find Schwarzmut alive. One recognizes as a trained detective a crime scene if one sees him.
For some time, our hero’s ability was so well-developed that she was credited with ground-breaking qualities, which means that Stark was able to spot a crime scene on very good days before he became one.
In this case, however, the stinking corpse pointed out that the brave detective had come too late. He would definitely not get any answers to his questions from Schwarzmut.
Blackmouth’s dark eyes were still drawn with surprise, his pupils dilated. The knife was in the back, of course he had not seen it coming. And something else struck Stark, something else that you could not see: battle marks.
The victim must have known his killer, as pointed out the collapsed body, he was right in front of the bar, on which in turn stood two glasses. The one filled with whiskey, which was a bit too clear, presumably because the ice cubes had already melted, and in the second glass was nothing but the small remnant of a drink that revealed Stark as a woodruff brandy.
Again, something in his head rang.
It was as if the solution to the death of Omnimox Güldengestürm was right in front of his inner eye, but unattainable from the outside. He would first have to bring the truth to light before he could understand it.
Besides, as Stark suddenly realized, the demise of Blackness meant that Margaret and Isabelle were in danger as much as the lawyer and the dead man at the feet of our hero.
A quick, trained look told Intelligence to find the phone he used to alert the police. In that case, this meant that he dialed the emergency call and put the phone down, so he could be sure the police would do something.
Nothing annoyed a bored desk pistolero more than an incoming call without a caller, so a checkup was safe.
Stark strode away from the apartment, strode down the stairs, grabbed the bundle of Herr Würbelsäp’s mail, and hurried to the street to wave to a taxi.
“Where should it go?” Asked the driver brusquely, while our noble detective fastened himself.
“To Leipziger Strasse … and hurry up.”
“Leipziger Straße, no problem, but I can not drive faster than the traffic signs allow me, so you have to forgive me.”
In movies, taxi drivers always belonged to the evil people, but as far as Stark remembered, they at least always put pressure on the gas, if you ordered that. Probably that was the small difference between fiction and reality.
Stark leafed through the various envelopes and found what he had hoped to find: a letter from Omnimox to Schwarzmut.
*
“Dear Mr. Würbelsäul,
After careful consideration of your case and the files before me, it is impossible for me or you to represent your co-plaintiff.
But please do not get me wrong.
Your lawsuit will prevail and appeal to every court and judge in the country, but it is fear that keeps me from doing so. Fear of the law and fear of the person X, whom you consider to be extremely violent.
I will do exactly what I can advise you:
Find a safe place and lock the door.
A murderer can not be impressed by a simple complaint, but at the most still incite.
Be safe, stay together and most importantly:
Never contact me again!
Yours sincerely
Omnimox Gülden storm ”
“That’s it …”, Stark thought morosely, “The only clue I have points to a class action lawsuit: Schwarzmut Würbelsäul, Margarethe Markgerede and Isabelle Konkenzänker seem to have asked Omnimox for advice because they are in front of a fourth person Maybe I should have asked Margarethe more intensively instead of sleeping with her. ”
Just as this thought slipped out of his right brain pocket, he noticed a short postum script:
“PS: For my own protection, I will hire a private detective.”
Again it rang in Stark’s head, but this time stronger, as if thirteen powerful men with thirteen hammers would maltreat a church bell.
Something disturbing surrounded this last sentence.
Makes nineteen twenty-five, “the driver said decisively, probably knowing what he was talking about.
Stark pulled a slip from his coat pocket, picked up the letters and left with a mumbled “The rest is for you” the taxi.
*
Even before the detective pushed open the only ajar door on Leipziger Straße twenty-four, he knew what he would see: A dead woman with a knife in the back.
So he dug first a smoked cigarette butt from the inner coat pocket – he always kept countless of them – and smoked two puffs.
Then he opened the front door with a courageous kung-fu kick and stared into the frightened face of a younger woman.
“Who the hell are you?” She asked chalkily, even before Stark had caught himself.
“My name is … Strongly Intelligence, I’m a private investigator … insoluble cases … no money for cigarettes …” Stark babbled accordingly confused stuff.
And because my door was ajar, you probably thought something would have happened here and wanted to save me, that’s not very credible. ”
“To be honest, I thought you were already dead … Well, actually, I smoked a cigarette and then kicked in the door.”
“Although you thought I was dead?”
“Just because I thought you were dead.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m not dead or in any great danger, I may be confused to a great extent, but otherwise I’m actually in very good health, but I’d like to say goodbye to you now, because …”
It was hard for a woman to interrupt, but in that case it had to be. His unbelievable knowledge of human nature implored him that it was better to confront her from the beginning with the danger she was in.
“Listen, Frau Konkenzänker, you’re in great danger, your lawyer, Omnimox Güldenstürm, is already dead, as is Schwarzmut Würbelsäul … I suppose those names say something to you?”
But Isabelle Konkenzänker shook her head and Stark’s enthusiasm.
“I’ve never had a lawyer all my life, and I do not know a man named Schwarzmut … spine, either,” she said.
“Stubble”, Stark improved automatically, though – for obvious reasons – not very enthusiastic.
“I want you to leave my house, now.”
Stark turned resignedly to leave, stopped once more and listened to his senses. No, this house was not a crime scene, probably would never be one. So what was going on here?
“Only one more thing … Margarethe Markgerede … Does that name mean anything to you?”
There was a faint glimmer of hope in Stark’s bowels as Isabelle Konkenzänker pondered briefly, but even her answer shredded the meaning of the word “hope” into millions upon millions of tiny pieces: “Margarethe Markgerede, you want to make fun of yourself, do not you?”
With drooping shoulders, the detective left the house.
It was time to question the last witness, the person he should have interviewed from the beginning: Margarethe, the blonde bambi-girl with the tight blouse and her firm butt.
*
On the way home, the detective had to think for the insoluble cases some time. He had not been able to take a taxi since he had apparently given the last fifty euro bill to the last driver.
He settled down once more on a park bench near his detective agency.
He knew that Margarethe was still there, waiting for him, she had never left the detective agency.
“That’s the problem with the unsolvable cases … They’re not solvable, at least not on a big scale, so maybe I have to do it differently, something I’ve overlooked.”
*
His office was tidied up.
One recognizes the presence of a woman after just a few moments, which she spends in a strange apartment. Things get crazy – sometimes only a few inches – and change the overall picture of the apartment or the room forever.
The wonderful creature was sitting in his chair, smoking a cigarette as she rummaged in his files.
“You’ve achieved quite a bit, Strong Intelligence,” she said approvingly as she noticed him.
“These files are confidential, and besides: you’re measuring a normal detective on his past accomplishments, a detective for unsolvable cases is only as good as his current progress.”
“Does that mean you could not make any progress?”
Stark smiled triumphantly.
“To be honest, I solved the case, but I’d better tell you if I smoke.”
Margarethe took the hint with the fence post and handed the detective her cigarette.
“And now, tell me.”
“Um, did you come here by car?”
Margarethe nodded.
Then let’s go and we’ll have to take a little jaunt before I solve the puzzle. ”
Again the blonde nodded.
*
The office of the Omnimox Gülden storm was inconspicuous, almost hidden, behind a twelve-meter-high wall of typically gray rock, which he had built to protect himself from clients.
“The only recognizable path is across the wall, which proves impossible due to the knife blades embedded horizontally in the wall,” Stark said with a fussing gesture. “And of course, the almost legendary stone dummy comes into play here.”
Stark and Margarethe circled the wall and stopped directly in front of the hidden entrance. The detective took a striking look at the wall next to the stone, which the blonde was deliberately following.
Sweat glistened wet on her forehead.
With a loud “Hau Jerk!” Strong pulled the dummy aside and revealed the secret tunnel, the floor of which was still full of dried blood.
“Do you see the blood on the ground?” Asked the detective.
“Of course, you should know that I’m not blind.”
After all, you have killed one, no, two people and one negligently hurt and left to themselves. ”
Margarethe’s eyes widened in horror, she could not speak.
“Yeah, at first I could not quite follow the things myself, I did not have an overview, if you like, that was of course my fault, but probably also calculated part of their plan.”
“Calculated…?”
“Oh yeah,” Stark grinned, “The seduction on the desk, which man could resist with an attractive woman like you? Of course I had better things to do with you after than just asking you about one Murder, which on closer inspection was not … Omnimox died because you wanted to intimidate him, threaten him, right? ”
No Answer.
“Well, I like to answer my questions myself, I love the sound of my own voice, Anyway, you caught Omnimox when he entered his office, threatened him and – when he was not particularly intimidated – threatened him The lawyer plunged backward, hit the wall and caught himself in one of his own knife blades, whether it was luck or misfortune that the blade broke off is completely irrelevant … ”
Stark pointed to a vacant spot on the wall, reached into his inner coat pocket, and revealed a cigarette butt that he lit.
“The fact is that you fled, knowing the poor guy would not turn to the police, and you might have watched him bleed bleeding through the tunnel, yes, you were probably the one who put the stone back in his place, and you are always free to correct me. ”
The blonde stared at the floor, fingering the hem of her skirt.
“It … was really a mistake.”
“Of course it was. You could not know that Omnimox never intended to take legal action against you, that he had already canceled your former lover Schwarzmut in writing …”
“He … he was not my lover, Isabelle was my …”
“Yes…?”
Margarethe cleared her throat in embarrassment.
“Isabelle was my lover, oh God, what did I love her, but when I found out she slept with men, that she fussed with that disgusting blackness, I killed her, killed her coldly, but the murder was thoughtful Brake cables do not recognize fingerprints, right? ”
“Yes, you’re right … It was never considered a murder, you must know that I met Isabelle’s daughter today, I thought she was Isabelle’s first … A second visit clarified the story.”
“Isabelle … Schwarzmut filed a lawsuit after her death, here at Omnimox Güldenstürm he wanted to have the situation checked to put me behind bars, apparently he had something against me.”
“And after you killed Omnimox, you killed Blackness, and when we saw each other for the first time, I noticed that strange, sweetish smell, that was the Woodruff brandy, right?”
She nodded.
Stark looked up into the blue sky.
“Yes, that’s the case with the insoluble cases …”, he thought.
*
“How did you figure that out, intelligence?” The police chief asked him half an hour later.
“Well, most of what I guessed, I was lucky … But it was also Omnimox’s letter to Mr. Würbelsäul, who wrote that he wanted to hire a private detective for his own protection, and Mrs. Markgerede had the same plan she had just a lot more ulterior motives. ”
There was a brief silence.
“But some things do not make sense, intelligence …”
This time it was Stark who nodded.
He pulled a cigarette butt out of his coat pocket, lit it, picked up a train, and sliced the filter to the ground.
“As I always say, that’s how it is with the insoluble cases, there are questions to keep open, there have to be things that do not make sense, it has to be a mystery, otherwise it would be a case like all the others … the simpler and the simpler Obviously something works, the harder it is to find out, since man tends to want to surpass himself and the simplest thing seems so frivolously unreasonable to him.A simple task is not worth it to be solved, which Omnimox has declared his philosophy … And speaking of philosophy … What about my fee? ”
The police chief laughed.
“That must be the mystery you talk about, Intelligence, I do not know who you expect a fee from …”