The book launch at the Jewish Regional Community Centre was a sell-out with all of the two hundred seats taken. Ellen Beetson stood at the back of the room watching the proceedings. She studied the faces and took in the exits, staging and balcony. There was still ten minutes until the talk began. She glanced at her phone, no messages. She sent a quick text message to Mitch to update him. At book launch, nothing untoward yet. Crowded House.
He texted back within minutes—just heading back to office, need back up?
Ellen looked around; all seemed in order. Hard to say but all looking under control, she texted back, then grabbed a seat on the aisle where she could make a quick exit.
Five minutes later a young man came on the stage and the audience broke into applause. Ellen put her phone on silent vibrate and put it back in her coat jacket. The young man thanked the audience and spoke of the guest of honor.
After a few minutes, he introduced Benjamin Hoefer. Audience members rose to their feet and applauded the elderly man as he made his way to the microphone. Ellen noted that he seemed genuinely touched. He waited until the audience settled and began.
“This is my father’s story,” he said with a glance to the screen behind him featuring his father’s photo on the book cover. “Can you imagine for a moment what it was like? We see the images in black and white and don’t connect, but my father was a man of color, of flesh and blood. We lived as a family. Father went to work each weekday morning to teach literature to the fresh young minds at university, and my mother stayed home to care for me and to look after the household. At the end of his day, he returned home and we ate together. My parents, like your parents before you, like you, shared the stories of their day and put the children, me, to bed.” He stopped to draw a deep breath; the room was silent.
“Then imagine tonight there was a knock at your door and your family was told to pack only a few necessities and be on the street in fifteen minutes. What would you do?” Benjamin Hoefer asked.
Ellen looked around; the audience members were transfixed by his words, imagining themselves on this journey. Several women were emotional, dabbing their eyes.
Benjamin continued. “I was two, and remember nothing of the night, but I have the picture that was painted in my mind from the retelling of the story so often. I was told our neighbor, a kindly young lady, entered via the back door and my mother bundled me into her arms. My mother and father hurriedly packed some clothing and took their suitcase and went outside. They joined with other neighbors and were pushed up onto the back of trucks. I would never see my mother again. My father would not return for another five years, a stranger to me. I am grateful to have this opportunity to tell his story of life in the camps and to tell of how we became a family again.”
It was then it happened. The audience gasped, and several members screamed. Behind Benjamin Hoefer, two large banner strips unfurled and fell behind him, each featuring the Nazi swastika. Ellen ran down the side aisle and behind the stage. She raced up the stairs to the balcony where the banners had been unfurled and saw a figure in black running down the opposite stairwell. She ran across the back of the stage in pursuit. As she opened the stage door and raced out onto the street, she saw the figure in black leap into a car, and slam the door. The driver took off. The plates were obscured.
Ellen returned to the theater as the audience was being evacuated and Benjamin Hoefer led away by his own security team. She sought out the theater manager.
“Six girls coming around for dinner!” Nick shook his head. “What a waste, a real shame.”
Mitch sighed and dropped down into the chair at Ellen’s desk next to Adam and Nick.
“It suits me fine,” Mitch assured him. “Anyway you should be pleased that I want to get out of the house tonight, I’ll do the museum shift Adam, and you can go have a life.”
“Nick’s right,” Adam agreed. “What’s the point of having a roommate if she and all her friends are gay? She’s got six babes coming round for dinner and not one you can hit on or who might sleep over.”
“Just because Lyn’s gay doesn’t mean all her girlfriends will be,” Mitch said.
“So there’s some hope for you yet.” Nick brightened. “Just when your mother and I had given up.”
Mitch looked from one to the other. “When did you guys launch your dating agency? What have you found?”
Just as Adam began to answer, Mitch’s phone rang.
“Ellie,” Mitch answered. He listened to the account of the incident at the book launch. “Okay, we need to get witness statements and see what CCTV footage we can get. Stay put and I’ll send back-up.” Mitch hung up. “Let’s go. There’s been another incident, I’ll update you on the way.”
Ellen had gathered statements from the staff and any guests who came forward claiming to have seen something. She had secured the list of attendees. She spotted Mitch coming through the foyer in his dark suit, his eyes scanning the area, and she waved to get his attention.
“Hey Ellie, any insights?”
“I and three witnesses saw a man, with dark hair, slim, agile which would suggest young, wearing all black—jeans and a long sleeved shirt. No one saw him from the front or enough to be able to identify or describe him. I saw him get into a black van, no visible registration and he was driven off.”
“So there were two of them working the scene then,” Mitch said. “Nick’s hitting up the neighboring buildings for CCTV footage and Adam’s organizing to get the banners removed to see if we can lift any prints but it’s unlikely. Run me through what Benjamin was doing and saying just before the banners unfurled.”
Ellen frowned. “He was creating the picture of what it would be like to get that knock on the door and to be told to leave your home and family. I can’t remember the last thing he said, but there were people filming his speech on their phones. And the center was filming it to upload online.”
“Okay, point me towards the manager and I’ll check that out. You keep going with statements.”
Ellen pointed to the bearded, middle-aged man talking to reporters.
“Great,” Mitch muttered and headed towards him.
“Joseph Belkind,” the center manager introduced himself to Mitch, and the men shook hands. “Josh was filming it,” he answered Mitch’s query. “Come this way, I’ll take you to him. Who would do this?”
“Good question,” Mitch said. “And why.”
“I have to deal with a few things, so can I leave you with Josh?” Joseph asked, indicating the young man. “I’ll be around if you need me after.”
“No problem,” Mitch said. He waited for Josh to rewind the footage and then watched it right through. The last line before the banners unfurled was Benjamin Hoefer saying, “I am grateful to have this opportunity to tell his story of life in the camps and to tell of how we became a family again.” Mitch asked for the footage to be sent to his phone. So is someone upset about Benjamin Hoefer telling the story of his father’s life in the camp or is it because they had a chance for a life again and someone else didn’t?
An hour later, Mitch gathered his team in a nearby coffee shop for an exchange of information. He looked up and realized it was counter service.
“Right,” he said as he rose. “What will it be?”
“A half-strength soy latte, please,” Ellen said.
“Cappuccino with a double shot thanks,” Adam added.
“An espresso, but can you ask them to make it fresh so it’s hot?” Nick asked.
Mitch rolled his eyes. “Four cappuccinos then.” He went to the counter, placed the correct orders and returned.
“Adam, what have you got from this morning and the book launch?”
“I’m just warming up, but I’ve had a few interesting discussions this morning. Gynther and Antje Bäcker, the family that ‘adopted’ Benjamin and according to him tried to Germanize him, are both now dead. But they have a son Ives who is seventy-two and a grandson, Dieter, forty-five years of age. I had a chat with Ives and he has given me Dieter’s number so I’ll try that later.” He stopped as the coffees arrived.
Ellen brightened. “You did get my soy latte!”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t be game not to,” Mitch teased, stirring his cappuccino. “So what did Ives have to say?”
Adam continued. “Not surprisingly, he had no idea what I was talking about, but eventually he remembered Benjamin. He was four when Benjamin was seven so we’re not talking about any memory that is really going to help the case here. He said though that he always thought Benjamin was his brother so he was surprised when this man came to take him away.”
“Mm, so his parents never told him that Benjamin was not related. I wonder if they thought that would protect both boys or if they assumed Benjamin’s parents wouldn’t come back alive,” Mitch thought out loud.
“Any point talking to the grandson, then?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, well I thought the same thing,” Adam continued, “but Ives told me that Dieter had done quite a lot of work on the family history and family tree, so you never know. Benjamin might feature in it. As for here,” Adam looked across the road to the Jewish Community Centre. “The boys dusted for prints around the banner and found none, as you would expect. I’ll check with local printers, but I suspect whoever has done this print job is not going to own up to it.”
“Anyone printing Nazi swastikas is probably in on it,” Ellen agreed.
“Nick?” Mitch turned to him.
“As you suspected, Benjamin is the sole benefactor of his father’s will, but Eli is worth a reasonable sum according to the solicitor. Eli and Yetta might have been newly married and starting their careers when their life was interrupted, but Eli was from wealthy stock. He managed to have a number of German confiscated artworks returned to him in the mid-1990s, and a Swiss bank account established by his father, who clearly had some foresight, was also resurrected.”
“So roughly what was he worth at the time of his death?” Mitch asked.
“In 2005, about $2.5 million according to his solicitor.”
“That’s nice,” Adam said. “Could be a relative or two now coming out of the woodwork to make a claim on that.”
“They’ve taken their time,” Mitch said. “But the book launch might have brought it to light.”
“Yes, not small change, especially as my research indicated that less than twenty per cent of the value of Jewish assets stolen by the Nazis and their collaborators had been restored at the time of Eli’s death. So he did well,” Nick said. “Moving on from that, I’ve checked every name on the guest list from the Holocaust Museum book launch and found no one shady, or with a criminal record or strange allegiances that are in our database anyway. Now I’ll start on the guest list for today’s book launch and run the model van to see how many thousand there might be on the streets.”
Mitch nodded. “Thanks. Ellie?”
“No prints on the film at the Holocaust Museum as expected. I checked out the projectionist’s background and he’s Jewish through and through. He’s doing a Bachelor of Arts in Jewish Studies at the uni and supporting himself with the projectionist work. His ancestors are Jewish and he lost a number of family members in the Holocaust,” she said. “If he has a reason to be angry at Benjamin Hoefer I don’t know what it is because he seems to be a big fan and has an autographed copy of the book on his desk. As for this book launch, everything was normal until the banners unfurled.”
Mitch glanced at his watch. “Call it a day. I’m heading to the Holocaust Memorial Museum for the night.”
“I’m coming with you,” Adam said. “I was looking forward to having a private wander through.”