“Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes. I’m Dana Evans.”
“Gerade ein Moment, bitte.” The receptionist spoke into the telephone, then looked up at Dana. “Fräulein, when did you make the appointment?”
“Several days ago,” Dana lied.
“Es tut mir leid. His secretary has no record of it.” She spoke into the phone again, then replaced the receiver. “It is not possible to see Mr. Zander without an appointment.”
The receptionist turned to a messenger at the desk. A group of employees was coming in the door. Dana stepped away from the desk and joined them, moving into the center. They got into the elevator.
As it started up, Dana said, “Oh, dear. I forgot what floor Mr. Zander is on.”
One of the women said, “Vier.”
“Danke,” Dana said. She got off on the fourth floor and walked over to a desk with a young woman behind it. “I’m here to see Dieter Zander. I’m Dana Evans.”
The woman frowned. “But you have no appointment, Fräulein.”
Dana leaned forward and said quietly, “You tell Mr. Zander that I’m going to do a national television broadcast in the United States about him and his family unless he talks to me, and that it would be in his interest to talk to me now.”
The secretary was studying her, confused. “Just a moment. Bitte.” Dana watched her get up, open a door marked PRIVAT, and step inside.
Dana looked around the reception office. There were framed photographs of Zander Electronics factories around the world. The company had outlets in America, France, Italy…countries where the Winthrop murders had taken place.
The secretary came out a minute later. “Mr. Zander will see you,” she said disapprovingly. “But he only has a few minutes. This is most—most unusual.”
“Thank you,” Dana said.
Dana was ushered into a large paneled office. “This is Fräulein Evans.”
Dieter Zander was seated behind an enormous desk. He was in his sixties, a large man with a guileless face and soft brown eyes. Dana remembered Steffan’s story of the teddy bear.
He looked at Dana and said, “I recognize you. You were the correspondent in Sarajevo.”
“Yes.”
“I do not understand what you want with me. You mentioned my family to my secretary.”
“May I sit down?”
“Bitte.”
“I wanted to talk to you about Taylor Winthrop.”
Zander’s expression narrowed. “What about him?”
“I’m doing an investigation, Mr. Zander. I believe Taylor Winthrop and his family were murdered.”
Dieter Zander’s eyes turned cold. “I think you had better leave now, Fräulein.”
“You were in business with him,” Dana said. “And—”
“Leave!”
“Herr Zander, I suggest that it would be better for you to discuss this with me privately than for you and your friends to watch it on television. I want to be fair. I want to hear your side of the story.”
Dieter Zander was silent for a long time. When he spoke, there was a deep bitterness in his voice. “Taylor Winthrop was scheisse. Oh, he was clever, very clever. He framed me. And while I was in prison, Fräulein, my wife and children died. If I had been home…I could have saved them.” His voice was filled with pain. “It was true I hated the man. But murder Taylor Winthrop? No.” He smiled his teddy-bear smile. “Auf wiedersehen, Miss Evans.”
Dana telephoned Matt Baker. “Matt, I’m in Düsseldorf. You were right. I may have hit pay dirt. Dieter Zander was involved in a business deal with Taylor Winthrop. He claims that Winthrop framed him and sent him to prison. Zander’s wife and children died in a fire while he was behind bars.”
There was a shocked silence. “They died in a fire?”
“That’s right,” Dana said.
“The same way Taylor and Madeline died.”
“Yes. You should have seen the look in Zander’s eyes when I talked about murder.”
“It all fits, doesn’t it? Zander had a motive to wipe out the entire Winthrop family. You were right about the murders all the time. I—I can hardly believe it.”
“It sounds good, Matt, but there’s no proof yet. I have two more stops to make. I’m leaving for Rome in the morning,” Dana said. “I’ll be home in a day or two.”