"I‘m sorry," he said, very softly.
"It‘s not—don‘t worry, I‘m … He‘s only a cat," I said, and a small fresh grief tightened like a band round my chest.
-- An Echo In The Bone
-------------------------------------
Jamie took my hand and squeezed it hard. He was flushed from the walk, and even more from excitement; the color ran right down into the open neck of his shirt, turning his skin a beautiful rosy bronze.
“I’ve brought ye home, Sassenach,” he said, his voice a little husky. “It willna be the same—and I canna say how things will be now—but I’ve kept my word.”
My throat was so choked that I could barely whisper “Thank you.” We stood for a long moment, clasped tight together, summoning up the strength to go around that last corner and look at what had been, and what might be.
Something brushed the hem of my skirt, and I looked down, expecting that a late cone from the big spruce we were standing by had fallen.
A large gray cat looked up at me with big, calm eyes of celadon green and dropped a fat, hairy, very dead wood rat at my feet.
“Oh, God!” I said, and burst into tears.
The Murderess from the Grunewald (2): Dr. med. Claire Beauchamp, client
(”Abend” by tookapic)
Previous (chapter 1)
While Claire enjoyed her first proper bath after six months, Jamie sat on the sofa and stroked Adso, who sat down again on his lap. Together, they waited for the dinner to be delivered. He chuckled as he thought of the little banter with Claire. They would have other things to discuss, heavyweight topics. It was important that these questions be clarified. But not today. Today he wished nothing more than to celebrate her regained freedom with Claire. The months of uncertainty, worry and fear had settled on her like an increasingly heavy, impenetrable fog. From the first day he had met her, he had been able to watch it.
Six months ago
It was a cloudy and slightly frosty Monday morning in November 2020. Jamie was already in the car, heading to the office when the picture of Tessa Lüttgenjohann, his secretary, showed up on the screen of his smartphone. He picked up the call and set the device to "Speaker".
"Good morning, Tessa!"
"Good morning, Mr. Fraser," came the friendly voice of a young woman from the speaker.
Tessa Lüttgenjohann was born in the city of Cologne 28 years ago. She had moved to Berlin, where at the age of 24 she was hired by “Fraser, Gowan & Coll.” She was a young, attractive woman with a beautiful face. Her slim, tall figure was crowned by a head of blond curls. Tessa was also intelligent and highly attentive. More than once “Fraser, Gowan & Coll.” had won a case because she had found important information that was overlooked by the court, the prosecutors or even the lawyers. Tessa was known for her good manners and her work ethics. She really was a hard worker. All in all, she was the best secretary one could wish for. Respected inside and outside of “Fraser, Gowan & Coll.”, she most likely was the best payed secretary in the capital. But in spite of all her qualities, she did not have that special something that could have sparked the fire in Jamie’s heart, which was necessary for him to love a woman.
"What's going on, Tessa?"
"Where are you?"
"On my way to the office, I'll be there in 15 minutes."
"Can you park somewhere?"
"I'll try, just a moment."
Jamie looked around, turned right, and drove into a side street where he parked his car on the right.
"So, what 's the matter?"
"We received an urgent phone call from the British Embassy earlier this morning, a woman, a ... Dr. Claire Beauchamp, a doctor at the Charité, was arrested at her home in Charlottenburg at 5:30 pm. She is suspected of having killed her husband, a Frank Randall, professor at Humboldt University. She was taken to the State Criminal Police Office, Division K11 and is to be interrogated there. The British Embassy asks us to provide legal assistance. "
"Is she British? The name sounds more French."
"She probably has French ancestors, but she has dual citizenship, she has a British and since January 2018 also a German passport."
"Can not someone else from our office take care this case?"
"Mr Gowan is at the local court at Lichtenberg all day, defending the tennis coach who has evaded millions of taxes. Mr. Hombach is at the local court in Potsdam as legal counsel of one of the victims of the migrant trafficking case. Mr. Vill has an appointment at the local court in Köpenick, extortion in the rocker milieu. Mr. Sturmfels must go to the district court, hearing for detention ... "
"O.k., I understand, it sticks to me."
"I know, Mr. Fraser, that you do not like to work for the British Embassy ..."
"It's alright Tessa, call the police and tell them that I'll be there in 20 minutes. I hope the client is smart enough to keep her mouth shut until then."
"I'll do, see you later Mr. Fraser."
Fifteen minutes later James Fraser steered his BMW M5 to a parking lot in front of the State Criminal Police Office, a modern gray building he hated since he first saw it years ago. He picked up his briefcase, locked the car and hurried up the stairs to the lobby. He took the elevator, which brought him to the department K11. A secretary at the reception desk reported him to the interrogator. Shortly thereafter, a small, fat man with gray hair and a gray beard appeared and introduced himself as 'Chief Inspector Günther Foos'. James Fraser was not a man who judged people by their appearance or an indefinable 'gut feeling'. But with this man, he immediately felt an inner dislike and his over the years acquired knowledge of the human nature urged him to heightened vigilance.
(”Fenster” by StockSnap)
He asked for a private interview with his client and was immediately led to the interrogation room where Claire Beauchamp was waiting. When he entered, she stood at the window with her back to the door. She was wearing black jeans and a white pullover. Her head was barely recognizable under the mass of dark curls. The sound of the door had ripped her from her thoughts and she had turned abruptly.
"My Goodness!" was all James Fraser could think of when he saw her. All the trouble that he had had to take over this case had vanished immediately. Somehow, he was even glad that none of the other lawyers had been able to take over this case.
"Good morning, Mrs. Beauchamp, I am James Fraser of 'Fraser, Gowan and colleagues'. The British Embassy has asked me to provide you with legal assistance. You can choose another lawyer if you wish, but there will probably be a review of the detention order today ... "
As he reached out to greet her, he uttered his salutation without really paying attention to the words. All his attention was focused solely on the face of the young woman standing opposite him. Her grace and charisma captivated him more and more and from moment to moment as his brain ran its own program. He would do everything in his power to save this woman from the prison. Whether she was guilty or not. Any way and every means would be right for him. And when she was free again, he would court her. He would win her over. He would make her his wife and give her the life and happiness she deserved. He would make her the mother of his children - she and no one else. His father was right: The day he would look into the face of the love of his life, he would know it was her. Today he had looked into that face. It was her. She was the missing part of his soul. He know that he know that he know that he know.
"Mr. Fraser? Mr. Fraser!"
The words came slowly and mistily to his ears.
"Um, yes?"
"Could I ... get my hand back?"
She smiled and he felt an unreal lightness. He smiled back to her.
"My hand, Mr. Fraser?"
"Hand? Which hand?" He thought. Then he looked down at his hand, which still held Claire's hand.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I ... I was a little bit in thought."
Reluctantly, he released her hand.
"We should sit down and discuss your case, Mrs. Beauchamp."
She nodded and sat down at the table in the middle of the room where a number of chairs stood. Claire had not missed the lawyer's reaction, neither was she surprised. It had happened often that men looked admiringly at her. But what surprised her was her own reaction. She could not remember how many handsome, attractive men she had encountered in her life. But one thing she knew: none of these men had left such an immediate and deep impression as this giant, who had suddenly stepped through the door of this gray room and introduced himself as her lawyer. With his read curly hair, the red designer stubble, his big hands and his sharp nose, he looked like a Viking who had escaped a time long forgotten. When he looked into her eyes, she felt as if the sun was rising - after a night of unending darkness. She was startled to discover how quickly and intensely she absorbed the small details of his face: the birthmark on the left cheek, the perfectly curved wings of his nose, the vein that ran vertically over his forehead to the nasal root. The urge to touch his face was almost irresistible. And those eyes! She could have looked endlessly into those blue eyes. But then she felt her right hand and noticed that he was still shaking it.
Jamie opened his briefcase and took out some papers. One of these he presented to Claire.
"This is a power of attorney, please enter your full name and sign below, only then I can defend you."
Claire's eyes fell on the letterhead: "Dr. James A.M.M. Fraser - Specialist Lawyer for Criminal Law." Then she filled out the form, signed it and gave it back to him.
"Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, born October 20th, 1988 in Banbury / Oxfordshire, Great Britain, living in Berlin, Candestraße 17" he read in a low voice. Then he put the paper in his briefcase and took out a pink document.
"This, Mrs. Beauchamp, is your arrest warrant. You were arrested because you are accused of having killed your husband, Franklin Wolverton Randall, on March 3rd, 2019, at you joint villa in Berlin-Grunewald, Köbelstraße 5. The following motives for murder are given: your husband's marital infidelity and your hatred resulting from this, the desire to gain the assets of your husband as well as his life insurance. It states, that the main characteristics for murder - perfidiousness, avarice and cruelty - have been fulfilled."
Jamie paused for a moment. Then he looked directly at her.
"Does this accusation correspond to the truth?"
"No! I said it last March, I did not kill my husband. All the charges are constructed. I have nothing to do with Frank's death. I found him injured at the foot of the stairs and immediately called the ambulance. I, ... I am a doctor, Mr. Fraser! it is my vocation to help people, to heal them, not to kill them!"
She looked at him desperately and her expression made him believe that she was telling the truth.
“We can’t do much today. I will now call the chief superintendent and tell him that you will not testify. That is your right. You have the 'privilege to refuse to give evidence'. Then you will be brought before a custodial judge. I will accompany you. The custodial judge will once again read the arrest warrant to you and ask you if you want to make a statement. You will answer 'no'. Please answer only questions about your personal data – name, age, place of birth, address, occupation. Nothing more! Do not do answer any questions about the case. Do you understand that?"
"Yes."
Claire nodded.
"The judge will then confirm the detention and fill out a detention request. Then you will be taken to a detention center by the police. I think they will take you to the Women's Detention Center in Berlin-Moabit. I'll visit you there as soon as I can. We have to prepare your trial. Maybe the police or the public prosecutor's office will asks if you do not want to make a statement, maybe you will be granted any kind of relief or you are promised that a statement will speed up the trial. If that happens, do not tell them anything and just refer everyone directly to me. Maybe that some fellow prisoner is trying to interrogate you. Prisoners often question other prisoners and then sell their information to the prosecutor's office to shorten their term or to get any benefits. Don't get involved in such a conversation. Do you promise me that?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"Well, before we go now, a few more questions: Should I inform someone about your imprisonment, maybe relatives?"
"No, there is nobody there."
"Really nobody?"
"No. My parents died in a car accident when I was five years old, I had no siblings, and from then on I was placed under the supervision of my only uncle, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp. He was an archaeologist and a historian. The last years of his life he worked at Oxford University. There I met my former husband, Frank. He was also a historian. After my uncle died we moved to Boston for a few years, and six years ago he followed a call to Berlin, where he worked at the Humboldt-University. His parents are dead too and he also had no siblings, but there is a cousin named Alex. He lives in London and came here for the memorial service. Alex later prepared the funeral. He came to Berlin and together we brought Frank's urn to Oxford. The funeral took place there. But I have no close contact to Alex."
"So there is no one to inform or for whom I should apply for a visit request? No friends?."
“Oh, of course, there's Mrs. Fritz. She's my neighbor, and she has a key to my house as well. So please let her know that she feeds my cat, Adso. And then please inform Dr. Joseph Abernathy. He's a cardiac surgeon at the Charité. He and his wife Gail are my best friends. After Frank's death he gave me a job in his department and I'm sure he'll be worried about me."
Jamie, who had written down everything in a little black notebook, nodded.
"Okay, I'll do that when we get past the review of the detention order. Any questions? "
"Not at the moment - except, how do I pay you?"
"Don't worry about that for now, we'll settle that later, are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Good, then let’s go."
Clair got up, but then had to stop and hold onto the table for a moment. Jamie jumped up and hurried over to prevent her from falling. She looked exhausted and he feared she might collapse.
"Do you need a doctor, Mrs. Beauchamp?"
"No, it's okay, thank you."
He nevertheless held her for a moment longer, looked at her and said:
"I know that might not be comforting to you now, but I promise you that we will do anything to prove your innocence."
"Thank you, Dr. Fraser, I'm grateful you took my case."
(JVA Berlin-Moabit by G.Elser [CC BY 3.0; https://creativecommons.org / licenses / by / 3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
The review of the detention order took place as Jamie had expected it. The police handcuffed Claire and then drove her with a prisoner transport to the Moabit district court. Jamie followed in his car. In court they were already expected. The custodial judge, a young guy with black curly hair and glasses, read the arrest warrant and questioned Claire. She answered all questions about her personal data, but otherwise refused to say anything more. "Excellent," Jamie thought, "she fully understood what to do." He had no doubts about Claire's intelligence, but too often he had seen how clients in front of a judge forgot all the advice he had given them. As he had expected, the judge ordered further pre-trial detention. The reason given was danger of flight. Claire had to hand over her two passports and then the judge issued a transfer request. Jamie could talk to Claire for a moment private, then she was put back in the transport vehicle, which took her to the prison.
It was nearly noon when Jamie was back in his car. He paused for a moment before starting the car. He took a deep breath, folded his hands and closed his eyes. Then he spoke a short prayer in Gaelic, which he had learned from his mother. The thought of knowing that wonderful, delicate woman behind the thick walls of the prison almost drove him out of his mind. A few minutes later, he threaded his car into the traffic flow of the German capital. Some time later, when he parked his car in front of Claire's house, he dialed Tessa Lüttgenjohann's number.
"Fraser, Gowan & Coll. You're talking to Mrs. Lüttgenjohann."
"Hello Tessa, it's me."
"Hello Mr. Fraser, what can I do for you?"
"Please try to get the number and address of a Dr. Joseph Abernathy. He works as a cardiac surgeon at the Charité, and if they appeal to privacy, leave my mobile number and tell him to call me as soon as possible."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, prepare a file named 'Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp' and ..."
´ "Oh, does that mean we have the mandate?"
"Yes, please also inform the British Embassy that Mrs. Beauchamp is our client from today on."
"I'll do that, and to which lawyer will you assign the case?"
"No one, I’ll take care of her case, personally."
Tessa Lüttgenjohann was silent in surprise.
"Tessa?"
"Yes, Mr. Fraser?"
"Put the file on my desk, I'll need it tomorrow morning."
"As you wish, Mr. Fraser."
"Good. Thank you!"
Moments later, Jamie drove the car into the driveway to Claire's house. He got out, locked the car and walked slowly to the house on the left. Already at the entrance to the property he saw the large wrought-iron sign with the words "Fam. Fritz" at the wall of the house. He went to the door and rang the bell. A young woman with short blond hair opened. He introduced himself as a lawyer to Dr. Claire Beauchamp and asked to speak to Mrs. Fritz. The young woman explained that Ms. Fritz, her grandmother, had been hospitalized that morning because of a broken leg. When asked who was going to take care of Mrs. Beauchamp's cat, the young woman turned to a key board, took out a key-chain with a large silver 'C' hanging from it, and handed it to Jamie, saying: "You'll probably have to do that by yourself, Dr. Fraser."
