There was something grim in Scholz’s wry smile. ‘Our priest told us about it in Sunday School. A little horror story to lighten the catechism lessons. Peter Stumpf was a rich farmer who confessed freely and without torture to having been a necromancer and black wizard since childhood. He claimed to have been visited several times by the Devil who gave him a magical belt that would give him superhuman strength in exchange for his soul. The price of this superhuman strength, however, was more than Stumpf’s soul – the belt turned him into a wolf. He admitted to tearing apart and eating scores of victims: men, women, children. He had a particular taste for pregnant women, apparently. Two meals in one. After the trial they strapped him to a wheel and broke his arms, legs and ribs with the blunt side of an axe. You see, they believed that, as a werewolf, there was a danger of him returning from the grave, so breaking his limbs would prevent him doing that. Then they ripped chunks of flesh from his body while he was still alive, using red-hot pincers. As a finale, they beheaded and burned him. True mortification of the flesh.’

‘But it didn’t work,’ said Fabel grimly. ‘It would appear that Peter Stumpf has come back to life.’

6.

Fabel got the impression that Scholz had allowed Tansu to come along for the Peter Schnaus interview only because it would have been out of the way to drop her off at the Presidium first. Scholz had called ahead to make sure that Schnaus would be in before heading along Aachenerstrasse. Buschbell was to the north of Frechen, he had explained, and therefore it was easier to avoid the town itself.

‘Incidentally,’ said Scholz, ‘Bedburg is out this way too – the home of the infamous Peter Stumpf.’

Buschbell and Frechen were only nine kilometres from the city centre and Fabel had been aware of a continuous urban landscape. Buschbell, however, was more open and tree-lined and clearly on the edge of the Cologne conurbation.

‘How did Schnaus sound on the phone?’ asked Fabel.

‘Guilty,’ said Scholz. ‘What of I don’t know yet, but he sure was sheepish to hear that the police were coming out for a chat.’

They pulled up outside a reasonably expensive-looking house with more garden than Fabel had seen in Cologne since he first arrived. It was the home of a high-middle-income earner. Not the dwelling of a millionaire, but substantial enough to indicate a respectable bank balance. Added to which there was the regulation Mercedes E500 in the drive.

As they made their way to the front door, it was clear that Scholz’s mind was on something else. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I don’t really like this idea the two of you have come up with … It’s far too risky …’

‘My idea,’ said Fabel. ‘I asked Tansu if she would do it as a favour—’