There was always something about shitty techno music that brought out the crazies. It was a long-established firm belief that had yet to be proven wrong, Miro told himself as he checked over the body. Torsten, the coroner, was already checking his pockets for ID and Miro awaited a ruling as to who their mystery man was. While waiting, he glanced to the mouth of the alley outside the club to see where his new partner had gotten to.
Miro almost rolled his eyes when he saw the young boy talking to the sole witness, a waitress from the café around the corner. Of course, speak to the girl first. Miro shook his head and returned to looking at the area surrounding the body. At least if Thomas was speaking to her, that meant he wouldn’t have to. There was some perks to having a decade-younger partner after all it seemed. All the physical work, like running and chasing suspects, he would leave to Thomas, Miro established for future engagements, if they were necessary. He hoped not.
The pulsing beat of the previously mentioned pop music shook the wall behind him so much so that the metal signs would vibrate with the deeper beats. The club, Schadenfreude, was newer to the area, Miro mentally recounted as he saw his new partner starting towards him having finally finished with the waitress.
“What do you think?” Miro asked once he had gotten close enough.
“She’s easily an eight, but she’s not really my type. I’m not into blondes.” The boy replied with a grin, he was always grinning. Miro wanted to throttle him. They were at work.
“I’ll be sure to let the victim know he’s not your type.” Miro replied shortly, lips forming a straight line of disapproval. The grin immediately left his partner’s face as Thomas glanced down at the misfortunate soul that had their attentions for the evening.
The man was around six foot, brown hair. He was lying on his right side, arm outstretched as if he had been reaching for something. Miro didn’t see anything apart from some rubbish in the alley that could possibly have been worth going for. Perhaps the killer took it, he had already thought.
Thomas looked back up to Miro’s face and waited until he had the older man’s eyes before he spoke again.
“She didn’t see anything.” Thomas motioned to the alley’s mouth where the waitress had disappeared. “Only that someone in a dark hoodie and jeans took off, but she couldn’t specifically place them in here, only that they were near the alley. She works at the café; I told her to call me if she remembered anything. I gave her my card.”
Miro nodded, ignoring the proud tone Thomas used about giving out his card. He had been entirely too happy when he had been issued them. Miro wondered briefly he had passed them to his friends for proof of employment or if he had done it just for a laugh. If he had done that at all.
“Very well. Torsten.” Miro turned to address their silent friend. “Do we have anything yet?”
The other man shook his head, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail for work. “Not yet. I will check his prints and see if we have any results once we return him to the morgue. His ID cards are missing and there is no wallet.”
Miroslav nodded and looked around the alley once again before turning to his new partner. The younger man was literally rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets, looking as if he needed something to do.
Miro waited until Torsten and his assistant had loaded up the body and the rest of the crime scene investigators were finishing their photographs before he turned to address his new partner.
“I’m returning with Torsten. You find me that wallet.”
Miro started to leave, side-stepping Thomas as he followed Torsten.
“But…what if the killer took it with him? What if it isn’t here?”
Miro turned to look at his partner with a single raised eyebrow and slightly-narrowed eyes. Thomas seemed to shrink down a little, impressive for a lad over six foot. Miro kept his expression in the disapproving look he had, instead of reflecting the mirth of his teasing.
One last look and Miro turned to continue following Torsten. Miro had already searched the alley; the wallet wasn’t there. He wondered what Thomas would come up with instead.
There was an additional desk in Miroslav’s office, bigger than the one he used and had better lighting. Still, it remained unused with a few scattered papers and a terminally powered-off computer on it that was collecting dust. A coat was left on the corner of the chair, the container of pens on the table still had a few half-chewed pens with their caps on. A notebook was opened to a blank page with one of those pens resting on top of it, waiting to be picked up and used.
Miro sat in the corner of the office, looking over recent news reports from the Schadenfreude and the area surrounding it. Most of the reports were small crimes, muggings and peeping-Toms in the nearby residential area of the district. There had been no murders save one in the area until tonight. The prior murder had been a domestic incident over three months ago.
Torsten had sent the victim’s finger prints for analysis and was currently running his DNA. The cause of death had been established at the scene: stab wounds to the chest, near the heart, a close contact crime. From the lack of defensive wounds, it appeared that the victim knew his killer.
That makes one of us. Miro thought, leaning back in his chair. The wooden piece of furniture creaked at the movement. He ran a hand over his jaw and glanced at the clock. It was past three in the morning. Miroslav had given up the superstition of the witching hour; he’d had to once he had settled into this job. The witching hour could happen at any time, not just at three.
He thought about calling it a night and going home. He would have done too, but Thomas had texted earlier saying that he was on his way back with ‘something’. Miro wanted him to hurry up so he could go home. Shaking his head, Miro stood up from the desk and rubbed his lower back as he started to the coffee pot in the break room. The fact he was getting older was getting more evident, unfortunately.
Grunting slightly in disapproval of the turn of his thoughts, Miro poured himself a new cup of coffee. He could do with a fresh cup but he didn’t feel like remaking it. The two-hour old brew would suffice for now.
That was where Thomas found him when he ended up arriving about ten minutes later. It appeared as if the younger man had crawled through a dumpster, a fact which had Miro raising his eyebrow and giving his new partner a very long look over. As soon as Thomas got closer, Miro noticed something else also. He smelled as if he’d crawled through a dumpster.
“Did you find the wallet?” Miro asked, amused. Thomas shot him a glare, probably realizing that Miro hadn’t actually meant for him to search the alley after all.
“No.” Thomas said through gritted teeth. Miro tutted and shook his head before starting to turn away. “But I did find his identification.”
Miro turned back, hand outstretched. Thomas handed over the plastic evidence bag. Miro looked at it, the wrinkles he refused to admit were there creasing his forehead as he frowned.
“Kevin Großkreutz, from Dortmund.” Thomas spoke when Miro didn’t say anything.
Well, that was something worth coming back for. Miro looked at Thomas and nodded, once.
“Thank you, Müller. You may go home and get some rest and a shower now. In the morning we’ll look into where Kevin was staying and why he was in Munich.” Miroslav stated, moving over to log the ID card into evidence.
“Don’t forget to do the same as well, sir.” Thomas replied, not moving from the place where Miro had left him.
Miro knew his limitations and spoke as he documented the evidence.
“I will leave in just a moment. I was waiting for you, actually.”
He didn’t noticed Thomas’ surprised look or the way the other man watched as he leaned over the desk, arm moving slightly to make the proper notes on the paperwork.
“I can wait for you?” Thomas asked, a little hesitation in his voice.
“That won’t be necessary. Besides, you need the shower.” Miro looked over, small smile in place and watched Thomas shift under his gaze.
Thomas shook his head and started to move around the tables of the break room on the way to the door.
“See you in the morning, sir.”
Miro nodded. “Nine in the morning, sharp.”
Miro chuckled a little to himself as Thomas left the office with a small groan.
Carrying the card, Miro returned to his desk where he sat and then looked over the document in his hand. Kevin Großkreutz. Now what would bring a boy aged twenty-three from Dortmund to Munich and leave him murdered in an alleyway, likely by someone he knew?
Well, Kevin, I am going to find out for you.
Miro turned his back on the empty desk and began typing away again at the computer, trying to find a record for Herr Großkreutz.