Böhler and the Dead Woman from Möhrli Street

A Chief Inspector Böhler Crime Novel – Case No. 4

Main Characters

• Chief Inspector Franz Böhler – Gruff and strong-willed, Böhler wears a trench coat in the style of Maigret. At 60 years old, he’s strictly “old school,” and enjoys playing Jass at the restaurant Metzgerhalle with his regular crew.

• Assistant Fridolin Blumer – Cheerful and nearly 30, Blumer is a favorite among the young female police assistants. He zips around on his Vespa, hails from the canton of Glarus, and harbors great admiration for his boss.

• Hans Senn – In his early fifties, this shady businessman from Zug has a passion for cryptocurrency—and a sinister habit of targeting elderly women with fraudulent investment schemes.

• Frieda Frey – 89 years old, a wealthy widow from Altdorf and Zurich. The victim. She lost 1 million CHF to Hans Senn and died of a heart attack shortly thereafter.

• Walter Andermatt – A native of Central Switzerland, he served as Frieda Frey’s chauffeur and gardener.

• Gloria Meyer – A smart, young, and striking crime scene technician. She’s the woman of Fridolin Blumer’s dreams.

• A police officer from Zug – Their local contact and guide during the investigation in Zug.

Summary

Chief Inspector Böhler investigates the sudden death of a wealthy widow and uncovers troubling signs of fraud. What led to her demise—and what role did cryptocurrency play? In a final dramatic showdown in Walchwil, the conman is confronted, and justice is served.

1. A Dead Woman on Möhrli Street

Chief Inspector Franz Böhler tugged his trench coat tighter around his shoulders as he strode through the fog-filled alleyways of Zurich. His footsteps echoed off the damp cobblestones as he neared the Frey villa. The message had been grim: Frieda Frey, 89 years old, a wealthy widow, had died of a heart attack in her Zurich apartment. But Böhler’s seasoned instincts told him something wasn’t quite right.

A man named Walter Andermatt had alerted the police early that morning at the start of his shift. He had found his employer slumped in her wheelchair. She had been scheduled to travel to her lakeside villa that day for a bridge game with her old friends.

“The killer’s always the gardener,” Böhler grumbled to himself, puffing on his curved pipe as he trudged toward house number 5 on Möhrli Street. He was about to find out what really happened.

His assistant, Fridolin Blumer, was already waiting, lounging on the front steps and chewing gum. True to form, his Vespa was parked haphazardly at the curb.

“Boss, looks like a textbook case of natural causes, doesn’t it?” he said casually, skipping the formalities. Blumer was always brimming with energy, eager to jump into action alongside his chief.

Böhler eyed the young man over the top of his thick, old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses.

“People don’t just die, Blumer. They die because someone made it happen. And in this case, there’s every chance someone gave death a helping hand. I’ve heard the deceased was very wealthy—and money has a way of attracting the darkest souls.”

2. The Crumpled Paper

Inside the villa, the forensics team was already combing through the scene. Frieda Frey had been discovered in her armchair, her hands clenched tightly around a crumpled piece of paper.

The striking Gloria Meyer from the crime scene unit was fully in her element, methodically collecting evidence that might shed light on the case.

“No signs of violence or poisoning,” she reported. “The autopsy will confirm more. But have you noticed, Chief Inspector? Papers are scattered all over the room—this woman must’ve been incredibly wealthy.”

Böhler surveyed the room. The deceased still clutched a balled-up document. Only the bank’s logo was visible. With great care, he pried it from her stiff hand.

“A bank statement, Blumer. Look.” He held the paper up. “Transfers to someone named Hans Senn—huge amounts. This must total at least a million.” Fridolin let out a low whistle.

“That name rings a bell! A crypto broker from Zug. Shady all the way down to his socks. They call him the ‘Crypto King of Zug.’”

“And more than that—he’s rumored to be a serial scammer of elderly women. Promises sky-high returns, persuades them to wire funds to offshore accounts—and then the money disappears into thin air.”

Böhler narrowed his eyes. “I want to know where Senn is—now. Parasites like that make my blood boil. Blumer, we’re going after him.” Blumer immediately pulled out his phone.

“I’ve got a contact in Zug…” And with that, he rang a police academy friend now working in the financial crimes’ unit of the Cantonal Police.

3. In Zug

The next day, Böhler and Blumer arrived at the Zug Cantonal Police headquarters and were thoroughly briefed on Hans Senn.

“His playground is the canton of Zug,” the officer explained. “A lot of wealthy commodity traders live here. Some leave fortunes to their wives—and Senn notices. We’ve had complaints before, but nothing ever stuck. The victims were gullible, even accepting it when their money vanished. Senn is a master manipulator—always armed with plausible excuses.”

“Blumer, I think it’s time we pay this fine gentleman a visit. But since we’re not on home turf, we’ll need official company. We’re not dropping by for coffee and cookies, are we?”

The Zug officer arranged for a patrol car, as Böhler and Blumer had arrived by train.

4. Arrest in Walchwil

A short time later, the duo stood before an opulent villa in Walchwil, overlooking Lake Zug. Hans Senn’s estate was extravagant, framed by a lush garden and ancient towering trees. A brass sign at the gate read:

Worldwide Crypto Services – Hans Senn AG.

“Quite the show-off,” whispered Blumer.

The shutters were closed. The place looked abandoned—perhaps Senn wasn’t even home.

“Intercom’s here,” Böhler said, pressing the call button. No response. The gate remained locked.

“I’ve got a hunch…” Blumer muttered, fishing through his jacket. Before Böhler could intervene, he’d already produced his trusted Swiss Army knife and unlocked the gate. Slipping through, they quickly advanced toward the house. The Zug officer drew his Glock 19—just in case—and, if nothing else, to look professional in front of the Zurich team.

Blumer used the knife again on the front door. The Zug officer hesitated but said nothing. Quietly, they entered—Zug officer in the lead, followed by Blumer and Böhler.

Plush Persian rugs muffled their steps. The walls were adorned with old masters and contemporary Swiss artwork. The air smelled of expensive perfume, money—and something like panic. Room by room, they cleared the first floor.

A faint hum came from a laptop in a study.

“This must be his office,” Blumer whispered. “But where is he?”

Then came a noise from the bathroom. A creaking door. A flushing toilet. Light from under the door. A shadow.

“Police!” Böhler barked. “Freeze or I’ll shoot!”

A man spun around and dove out the bathroom window into the garden.

Blumer bolted after him. Böhler raced for the front door. The Zug officer stayed frozen in place.

Senn was fast. But Blumer was faster. Years of running paid off. At the corner of the house, Blumer caught up—then, with action-hero flair, launched himself, tackled Senn, and drove him to the ground. With a knee in his back and cuffs in hand, he locked him down.

“Not so fast,” Blumer panted with a grin. “Bad move. No one’s gotten away from me yet.” He hauled Senn up and searched him.

“Ah, here we go—ID in the back pocket. So, it is you. My boss is going to love this.”

By now, Böhler had arrived. He lit a crooked cigar.

“Frieda Frey’s death might seem natural, Mr. Senn. But not to me. You’re coming with us—and you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

The Zug officer and Blumer unceremoniously stuffed Senn into the patrol car. They returned to Zug Police HQ, where colleagues offered nods of approval. After initial questioning and booking, Senn was placed in a holding cell—one already marked with the names of criminals who came before him. A secure transport would soon take him to Zurich.

Senn looked defeated. His bravado had vanished. He was already thinking damage control. He loudly insisted he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Well then,” Blumer smirked, “enjoy your night on Zug’s tab. Tomorrow, we’ll see you at Zurich central.”

He could hardly wait to recount his heroic chase to Gloria Meyer.

5. Confession

Chief Inspector Böhler and Assistant Blumer—an interrogation team as well-rehearsed as they were effective—entered the room fully equipped with the facts and forensic evidence gathered at the scene. It didn’t take long before Hans Senn began to unravel under pressure.

Blumer watched his chief with admiration, fascinated by his methodical questioning technique. One day, when Böhler retired, Blumer hoped to inherit not only the reins of the unit—but also that iconic desk lamp Böhler used to glare into suspects’ faces.

Senn finally cracked. He admitted to putting extreme pressure on Frieda Frey, though he maintained that she had made all payments willingly.

“She paid because she wanted to,” he said defensively. “She couldn’t get enough. It’s not my fault she died after I saw her the last time.”

“You’re partly right, Senn,” Böhler replied. “She paid and invested, trusting in your promises of wealth. But the fact that she gave you nearly everything she had—that’s on you.”

“Chief Inspector,” Senn continued, “I visited Frau Frey to request one final payment. She got upset—hysterical—and threatened to call the police. Her chauffeur was already on his way to pick her up. And then… she collapsed. She passed out. I panicked. I ran. But I swear—I didn’t kill her. I only persuaded her to invest in crypto shares.”

“Frieda Frey died of a heart attack, yes,” Böhler said. “But she collapsed because she realized her fortune was gone. And her beloved grandson—still in boarding school—would be left with nothing. Yourmanipulations caused that moment of devastating shock. And had you done the bare minimum—called for an ambulance—she might still be alive. Instead, you left her alone. You didn’t just commit fraud. You left her to die. That makes you responsible for her death.”

He stared coldly at Senn for a moment, then added, “You’re a despicable human being—and you’re going to pay for what you’ve done. Regensdorf prison is waiting for you.”

Böhler turned on his heel and muttered on his way out:

“It’s not always the gardener, after all.”

Further investigation uncovered even more scams linked to Senn, revealing a pattern of deception that spanned years. Soon, he would face a lengthy prison sentence—starting in Regensdorf and continuing in his home canton of Zug.

6. After-Work Beer

With the case solved far more quickly than expected, Chief Inspector Böhler decided he’d earned a break. He took tram 14 to Oerlikon, bound for the Metzgerhalle, where the familiar crew—the “Schällenboys,” Remo K., and the usual Jass companions—were already waiting for their fourth player.

After a few good rounds of Jass, Böhler planned to treat himself, as always, to a hearty plate of liver with Hash browns, a crisp salad, and a well-deserved cold beer.

He would’ve invited Fridolin Blumer to join him—but his young assistant was still thoroughly engaged in recounting his athletic heroics to the captivating Gloria Meyer, doing his best to win her attention.

In the streets of Zurich, no crime goes unpunished—if men like Chief Inspector Böhler and his loyal assistant stand guard over the city, committed to truth, justice, and the rule of law.

What case will challenge them next? That remains to be seen.

©thomasvonriedt 2025

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