Böhler and the poisened tart

A Böhler crime novel – his 3rd. case

The Main Characters

• Franz Böhler – Chief inspector at the Zurich Cantonal Police, cleans up crime in Zurich and enjoys playing cards at the Metzgerhalle

• Fridolin Blumer – Assistant, a cheerful native of Glarus, rides a Vespa

• Gloria Meyer – Clever, attractive, young forensics specialist

• Hans R. – Victim, entrepreneur and businessman from Glattbrugg

• Röbi and Kurt – Friends of Hans R.

• Hanna B. – Manager at the golf club

• Heike Huber – Golfer, single, reserved, looking for a boyfriend

• Angelika – Fun-loving friend

• Willi S. – Greenkeeper, discovered the body on hole 4

Summary

While playing at hole 4, Hans R. from Glattbrugg suddenly collapses. Foam forms around his mouth. Detective Böhler’s trusted team is called in, while Hanna B. worries about the club’s revenue and reputation. Was Hans R. killed by a jealous golfer? Could a romantic entanglement among golfers be the cause? Chief inspector Böhler, with his unconventional methods, cracks the case.

1 A New Case

“Chief Inspector! Chief Inspector!” Blumer burst into his boss’s office just as Chief inspector Böhler angrily crumpled up the newspaper and tossed it into the trash. His team, the Grasshoppers, had lost yet again and had dropped to second-to-last place in the league.

“What’s going on, Blumer?” Böhler growled at his eager assistant, who suddenly realized he had forgotten to knock on the door.

“Chief Inspector, the emergency center reports a death at the Silberwaid Golf Club. The caller, the club’s manager, believes it wasn’t an accident. The greenkeeper, Willi S., found the body at hole 4.”

Böhler sighed. “Alright, Blumer, now start over – calmly, clearly, and step-by-step.”

Blumer took a deep breath and then briefed his boss meticulously, speaking in his typical Glarus accent. Meanwhile, Böhler tapped a pencil on the desk, occasionally raising one of his thick eyebrows – always the right one – and eventually nodded.

“That’s much better, Blumer. Now get us a service car. I want to look at the scene myself.”

2 At the Crime Scene

The drive to the golf course led them out of the city and into the suburban sprawl. Tucked away behind tall bushes, in the middle of an industrial zone, lay the 9-hole course, squeezed between the Limmat River and a heavily trafficked road heading toward Baden. A true natural oasis, a gem amid the industrial landscape. Here, stressed-out managers – and those aspiring to be – found time and relaxation for a quick executive round, followed by a gin and tonic and boasting about the perks of their new Italian V8. Deals were negotiated in this chic setting, and at the bar, the next scheme was plotted with a personal assistant.

As Blumer steered the service vehicle – a discreet gray BMW – into the visitors’ parking lot, he felt a pang of challenge at the number of sleek sports cars sporting the prancing horse emblem. With a mix of defiance and provocation, he deliberately parked crookedly, taking up two spaces. Böhler registered the maneuver with an almost imperceptible smile but said nothing.

They approached the clubhouse, drawing curious glances from the golfers, and asked for the manager. Hanna B. had already seen them arriving and couldn’t resist a pointed remark about their parking skills.

“Böhler and Blumer, police.” Böhler flashed his badge. “Our forensics specialist is en route and should be here any minute. Could you take us to the body?”

Looking visibly stressed, Hanna B. pressed the button on her walkie-talkie, informed Greenkeeper Willi S. of their arrival, and had two e-carts prepared. Blumer beamed as he got to drive one of the carts across the course – but promptly got stuck. He had driven too close to the green on hole 3, triggering the GPS system to abruptly shut the cart down.

The body of a middle-aged man, dressed in expensive golf attire, lay on the tee box. His body was awkwardly twisted; around his mouth and on the ground, Böhler noticed foam. The golfer was still clutching his driver, as if he had tried to pull himself up. The fingers of his left hand were dug deep into the tightly mowed grass – a sign of painful cramps. In front of the tee, there stood a luxury JuCad electric trolley with a matching stylish bag. Clearly, the victim was an image-conscious golfer – and one who could afford the pricey HONMA equipment.

“And you found the body?” Böhler turned to the greenkeeper. “Did you touch, move, or remove anything?”

The Chief inspector often started his interviews with his typical brisk, direct style – a method that startled many and often led them to blurt out important details.

“Yes, yes. I was on my bin collection round when I spotted Hans R. from a distance. He was lying on the ground, writhing in pain. He was alone, like he usually was. I liked him – he was always friendly, always greeted us greenkeepers, and sometimes gave us a tip.”

“Was he still alive?” Blumer couldn’t help but eagerly jump into the conversation.

“Well… He was writhing and foaming at the mouth. He seemed to be in great pain – but calling that ‘alive’ would be a stretch. Then his body arched one last time, his fingers dug into the ground… and that was it.”

Böhler nodded thoughtfully. Then he turned to his assistant.

3 Heike Huber

Heike was already of a more advanced age and didn’t exactly fit the usual image of an attractive woman. Life had always been a bit harder for her than for others. Even elegant clothes and carefully applied makeup did little to change that when she used to dress up for weekends in her younger years.

Still, Heike was a passionate dancer. She regularly attended dance nights in her hometown — an event for which many singles, both men and women, were grateful to the organizers. These evenings were not just about bringing lonely souls together; they also served a certain integrative function. Some foreign dancers sought relationships with Swiss women as a way to secure a more stable future.

Recently, Latin dances had become especially popular. Tango and salsa turned out to be the most favored styles — and Heike basked in the attention of the dark-eyed Manolito, who was undoubtedly one of the most elegant men on the dance floor. As it so often happens, Heike gradually fell in love with the nimble dancer and began to nurture hopes for a future together.

Manolito, however, had very different ideas about a relationship with the conservative Heike. She wasn’t a beauty, but she was clearly financially stable — and even more importantly, she possessed the coveted red Swiss passport. In his eyes, she was the gateway to a better life. And for that, he was willing to overlook a few shortcomings — at least for a while.

Heike had worked for years as a trusted employee at a local community bank. She was valued for her reliability, punctuality, and precision. These traits eventually earned her the position of deputy head cashier — along with a respectable monthly salary. Financially, Heike was doing well. If only her personal life were equally successful! Her relationships were usually short-lived, she often lamented to her friend Angelika. Angelika, in contrast, never had much money but had no shortage of male admirers.

The hoped-for salvation through Manolito turned into a complete disaster. Heike invested a great deal of time and money into the young man — only to eventually discover that he was a classic Casanova, juggling multiple affairs at once.

The ever-cheerful Angelika took it lightly. “Annoying, sure,” she said, “but I have an idea: why not try golf? You can easily afford a club membership. And you’re a sporty person — focused and determined. I bet you’d get the hang of the challenging game pretty quickly.”

Then she grinned mischievously. “And besides, there are the golf pros — one more handsome than the next. But even more interesting are the club members themselves. Especially the gentlemen over fifty…”

Heike listened carefully — and eventually decided to follow her friend’s advice.

4 Hans R. from Glattbrugg

Hans, a businessman from Glattbrugg, usually played golf every Thursday with his colleagues Röbi and Kurt. The three were passionate golfers and successful entrepreneurs and managers in their professional lives. Their weekly meetups helped them escape the stresses of work, stay healthy, and served as an opportunity to discuss ideas and new business ventures.

They were among the early starters, typically using the course between 8:00 and 9:00 a.m. — a time later usually reserved for the seniors’ section.

Hans R. was the owner of an industrial company, which he had built up through hard work, smart decisions, and the support of dedicated employees. Over the years, not only did his business success grow, but so did his waistline. Then tragedy struck: his wife passed away unexpectedly, leaving him a widower with grown children.

Golf came at just the right time. Röbi had been urging him for some time to give it a try — and indeed, Hans showed a natural talent for the game. Before long, he decided to carve out a permanent spot in his schedule for their weekly round.

From time to time, he also participated in club tournaments that counted toward his handicap, achieving solid results and even bringing home a few prizes. This didn’t go unnoticed by the club’s female members. Before long, the ladies’ section was whispering about him:

“He’s filthy rich — and widowed, too.”

“Supposedly very charming — someone should definitely make a move.”

Over time, Hans R. got to know many of the club’s women. He always behaved like a true gentleman and was a popular playing partner. After all, what lady would say no to a glass of Prosecco or a Hugo at the club bar?

Heike Huber had also had the pleasure of playing a full round with Hans — and she decided: she would try to win over the charming businessman. Fully aware, however, that she wasn’t the only one with that plan.

5 Forensics at Work

Gloria Meyer from the Forensics Unit of the Zurich Cantonal Police had since arrived and was already examining the body and the surrounding area. She collected samples of the vomit and the white foam around the victim’s mouth. There were no obvious injuries — no signs of physical violence.

As usual, Chief inspector Böhler watched his young colleague work. He was always fascinated by how confidently these young investigators handled all the modern techniques and instruments — so calm, so competent.

Every now and then, he asked, “Any idea what might have caused the man’s death?”

Gloria Meyer looked up briefly and replied with a knowing smile, “Dear Chief inspector Böhler, my report will give you all the details.” She paused for a moment before adding, “The real question is: Who poisoned the man? Because that’s obvious.”

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Böhler, marching off toward the clubhouse to assist his Glarner assistant, Fridolin Blumer. Blumer had already begun his investigation, conducting initial interviews with club manager Hanna B. and greenkeeper Willi S.

“Boss,” Blumer greeted him, “this man — the victim — usually played with his colleagues Röbi and Kurt. But today, for some reason, he didn’t. And he also didn’t show up at his usual early time before 8:00 a.m. According to the manager and the greenkeeper, Hans R. was a very popular member, often making generous donations to the club and particularly charming toward the ladies.”

“Were there any tensions between him and other members?” Böhler wanted to know.

“No, nothing we observed,” Hanna B. answered quickly. Then she hesitated. “Although… now that I think about it: he had been spending a lot of time with Heike Huber lately. They also often had meals together at the restaurant.” She smiled slightly. “You know how we women can be sometimes… a little jealous. We don’t always like seeing another woman getting all the attention.”

Blumer perked up. “Were you jealous?” A suspicion stirred in him, and he thought about the infamous poisonings of the Renaissance.

“Now, now, Blumer,” Böhler interrupted, a trace of amusement in his voice. “The manager surely has better things to do than monitor the relationships of two grown adults. You’re happily married, aren’t you?”

Hanna B. blushed lightly and said nothing. There was no need for the whole club to know about her secret fling with the greenkeeper — that was nobody’s business.

At that moment, Gloria Meyer opened the door. She was still dressed in her white protective suit, her forensics kit in hand.

“Chief inspector Böhler, I’m finished here and heading back to headquarters.”

“I’ll come along!” Blumer called out spontaneously, tossing his car keys to Böhler and rushing out the door before his boss could even react.

Böhler sighed. “That’s it for today,” he announced. “I’ll take a look around the grounds and the clubhouse. Stay available for me. If anything else comes to mind, call me.”

He pulled two business cards from his rumpled trench coat, placed them on the table, and left the room — without another word.

6 A Suspicion

While the eccentric Böhler continued to look around the clubhouse and the course, questioning people and gathering information, Gloria Meyer organized the autopsy of the body that had since been delivered. After completing the external examination, she took the scalpel and began to open the body — strictly by the book.

Blumer, who had bravely stood by her side, panicked at that very moment and fled. The mere thought of spilling entrails made his nausea rise to his throat. Hands clamped over his mouth; he bolted toward the men’s restroom in the hallway.

Gloria, on the other hand, stayed completely focused. With practiced routine, she examined the organs, took swabs, and secured samples of the stomach contents, which she planned to later compare with the samples collected at the crime scene.

Meanwhile, Blumer tried to pull himself together in the restroom. He desperately needed a strong coffee — but, as usual, the department’s vending machine left much to be desired. As he bent over the sink, an unsettling thought crossed his mind: Was Gloria Meyer really his dream woman?

He imagined her, during a romantic dinner, vividly describing dismembered bodies while he tried to kiss her. He shuddered. Impossible, he thought.

His grim thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps. The boss was back — and, as always, full of energy.

“Blumer, you’re looking a little pale. Feeling sick?” Böhler grinned mischievously.

Blumer straightened up. “I’m fine, Chief.”

“Let me guess — the little mouse from pathology spoiled your appetite, huh?” Böhler chuckled. “Here are your car keys. We’re staying in the office for the rest of the day. Oh, and wash your face with cold water.”

With that, he turned and marched straight into his office.

A short while later, Blumer was sitting on the visitor’s chair in front of Böhler’s massive desk — a relic from the early years of the cantonal criminal authority. In the corner stood the famous desk lamp with the rotating shade, which Böhler loved to use during interrogations to dramatically spotlight suspects.

“And what do you think?” the Chief inspector asked, leaning back in his chair.

Blumer answered without hesitation, “He was obviously poisoned. Gloria — I mean, Ms. Meyer — found traces of cyanide, both on the ground and in the victim’s stomach. He must have eaten a pastry shortly before his round, Chief.”

Böhler nodded. “Yes, that’s my impression too. But where did he get the pastry? At that hour, the club restaurant is still closed. There’s nothing at the reception except a few energy bars. I’m sure someone gave it to him.”

He flipped through his notes. “What I also found out: Hans R. had a weakness for sweets. He rarely ended a round of golf without finishing his coffee with a little cake.”

Thoughtfully, he tapped his pencil against the desk.

“Maybe a crime of passion? Rejected love? Or was it revenge — for a business betrayal, a personal insult, or even a sporting rivalry?” He snorted. “There’s still a lot to untangle. Blumer, dig into the backgrounds of his two friends, Röbi and Kurt. Also check if there are any leads in Hans R.’s company. A businessman doesn’t make only friends.”

He closed his notebook.

“I’ll personally have a chat with Heike Huber.”

7 Even More Golfers

Early in the morning, Fridolin Blumer, the cheerful Glarner, started up his Vespa GTS and headed to Hans R. AG, a company specializing in solar technology and control systems. As he parked his scooter at the entrance, he already saw a crowd of agitated people.

The news of their founder’s death had deeply shaken the employees. They stood clustered at the entrance, speaking over one another in hushed but frantic tones, trying to come to grips with the shocking situation as Blumer entered.

He flashed his badge. “Good morning. I need to speak with the deputy CEO.”

A man stepped forward. “Walter P.,” he introduced himself, gesturing toward his office. “Please, come with me.”

Walter P. was the company’s CFO, a pillar of support to Hans R. since the company’s founding — and, like his boss, had become a passionate golfer in recent years. It was clear that the news of his superior’s death had hit him hard. His face looked pale, and as a generally reserved person, he struggled visibly to keep operations running under the heavy atmosphere.

As soon as Blumer sat down, Walter P. got straight to the point.

“Mr. Blumer, I have no idea who could have murdered our boss. Sure, there were competitors — people envious of his success. But to kill him? I just can’t imagine it. He was extremely well liked — especially among the ladies, ever since he became single.”

He paused briefly, rubbing his temples, then continued:

“There have been rumors around here… that some of our female employees were practically competing for his attention. Now and then, he’d find golf balls or little pieces of cake left anonymously on his desk. Some even speculate that a few women secretly took golf lessons — just to get closer to him.”

Blumer raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Were there any tensions among the staff? Anyone who seemed particularly fond of him — or, for that matter, particularly resentful?”

Walter P. shrugged. “Nothing specific that I know of. But if you ask me… you could even pin a motive on me. The company is very profitable — owning it outright would certainly have been appealing. But yesterday, I had a meeting with our bank. You’re welcome to verify that.”

He pointed to the desk. “You’re also welcome to take Hans’ laptop if you want. Maybe you’ll find something on it.”

Then he leaned in slightly and asked in a lowered voice, “Tell me… how did he die? Was he beaten to death?”

8 With Heike Huber

“What happened to Hans, Chief inspector? This is terrible! Who could do such a thing?”

Heike Huber was visibly struggling to keep her composure. Her knees buckled, and tears streamed down her cheeks like a waterfall.

Böhler, however, showed no reaction. He had witnessed scenes like this far too often — and more than once, the person who had dissolved into apparent despair had ended up being the culprit. His instincts told him to stay cautious.

Amid more tears, Heike finally confessed that she had secretly loved Hans R.

“He was always so charming,” she sobbed. “I used to spoil him with sweets — especially little tarts with vanilla cream. Those were his absolute favorite.”

Then she added, “But I wasn’t the only one who had her eye on him. All the ladies at the club — even the manager — were completely charmed by him. Although… now that I think about it, he did seem particularly attentive toward me. Sometimes he even talked about bringing me into his company. He said reliable employees were hard to find these days, and his CFO often complained that the finance department staff had little real expertise.”

Böhler let his gaze wander around the apartment. Everything was meticulously tidy and spotless. He studied the pictures and photographs on the walls, opened the refrigerator — and with every little detail, his gut feeling grew stronger: It couldn’t be her.

She might be a bit eccentric, sure — but a poisoner? Hardly.

“Who else had close contact with Hans R.? Was there anyone particularly eager for his attention?” Böhler asked.

Heike swallowed hard before replying, “The manager, Hanna B., often acted… noticeable. She’s also single. On days when Hans played, she usually wore especially attractive outfits. After all, she always knew in advance when he had booked a tee time.”

Oh boy, Böhler thought, catfight.

He pulled his worn-out notebook from the pocket of his trench coat, flipped through a few pages, and scribbled down:

“Hanna B. & Hans R.?”

Blumer would have surely laughed at him again right now.

“You’re just old-school, Chief,” his assistant had once said — but Böhler knew perfectly well that deep down, Blumer secretly appreciated his quirky ways.

9 Willi S. Comes Under Scrutiny

Assistant Blumer reported back to Böhler about his conversations with the golf buddies Röbi and Kurt — but without uncovering any new leads. His meeting with Deputy CEO Walter P. had also failed to produce any useful results.

Wrapping up his report, Blumer added thoughtfully, “Chief, there’s some strange stuff going on at that golf club. It’s understandable that all the ladies were swooning over the charming Hans R. But apparently, there’s someone else who fancies himself a Casanova: Greenkeeper Willi S.”

Böhler raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, he’s supposedly been chasing after women for years. Rumor has it he secretly filmed them in the showers — though it was never proven. Plus, there’s gossip about him having an affair with the manager. Strangely enough, the harassment complaints stopped right around that time.”

Böhler leaned back and thought for a moment. Then he said:

“Blumer, you’re a wizard with computers. Dig up everything you can find about Willi S. online. Maybe there’s a clue out there somewhere.”

He stood up and grabbed his coat. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get in touch with inspector Peterhans from the Aargau Cantonal Police. He once handled a case at a golf club at the foot of the Jura — a greenkeeper there was found with poisoning symptoms. Unfortunately, he died before he could be questioned.”

Blumer nodded, his fingers already flying over the keyboard as Böhler left the office.

His next destination was the Silberwaid Golf Club — but first, he treated himself to a detour through Oerlikon. He was craving his beloved liver with rösti, salad, and a cold beer at the Metzgerhalle. Thanks to the heavy workload lately, he hadn’t seen the waitress Daniela or his old Jass buddies, the Schällenboys, in far too long.

He was looking forward to the restaurant visit. He usually bumped into a few familiar faces there — like Remo K. or the loud-talking Italian who lived near the Irchel tram stop. A small, intact world that always reminded him of the old Oerlikon.

As usual, a few copies of the local gymnastics club’s newsletter lay at the entrance. Even that club had seen better days — the meager content of the newsletter made that all too clear.

10 Hanna B.

Well-fed after his hearty meal at the Metzgerhalle, Chief inspector Böhler arrived at the golf club and asked the manager to join him for a coffee and a chat.

“I really don’t have time; I still need to go over some things with the greenkeeper,” Hanna B. tried to wriggle out of it.

Böhler remained unmoved. “Would you prefer to come down to the station?”

He was in a great mood, even though his full stomach made him feel a little heavy. It gave him the perfect excuse to order a Kaffee Luz — a double plum brandy coffee, the way they drank it in the canton of Lucerne. He dropped a sugar cube into the glass, stirred it slowly and deliberately, all the while observing the manager.

“No coffee for you? Or would you prefer tea?” he asked politely.

Hanna B. seemed nervous. Very nervous. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as if she had something to hide. Böhler knew that some people simply reacted this way to authority — even when they had nothing to hide. A sort of instinctive or learned fear of uniforms and power. And he wasn’t even wearing a uniform, just his old-fashioned trench coat, which perhaps called to mind Commissaire Maigret more than any official police attire.

“Well, Ms. B., why don’t you tell me how business is going? Who do you deal with mostly? Any problems with members or staff?” Böhler continued stirring his drink. “Your workdays must be long during the season. I guess there’s not much time left for a private life.”

Hanna B. shifted uneasily again. She knew full well that everyone was watching her sit with the Chief inspector — and that the rumors would be flying before the day was over.

“You’re right, Chief inspector,” she began hesitantly. “The golf business is highly seasonal. From March to November, we basically work seven days a week. Members and guests expect perfect service — and they’re not very forgiving about staff shortages or poor course conditions due to the weather. In a setting like that, you appreciate the charming, generous gentlemen at the club.” She sighed. “When morale is low, compliments help. But in this line of work, there’s hardly any room for a personal life. A serious relationship always suffers.”

Böhler nodded sympathetically, then dropped a provocative remark:

“And so, you cozied up to Hans R. and poisoned him, huh?”

Hanna B. visibly recoiled, turning pale and gasping for air. Then she burst out:

“He would have been exactly my type! But he never gave me the time of day. He only ever flirted with that frumpy Heike Huber. That dried-up old cow!” She snorted. “But that’s no reason to kill him! Even Willi wouldn’t have understood that.”

“Willi?” Böhler asked innocently. “Who do you mean?”

“Well, Mr. S., the greenkeeper. We chat from time to time.”

“You’ve known Willi S. long?”

Hanna B. thought for a moment. “He’s been working here for a few years now. Before that, he was at a club in Aargau, but apparently there were some issues with the management there.”

“And what’s your impression of him?”

“I can’t say anything bad about him,” she replied after a brief hesitation. “He’s reliable, meets deadlines, and does quality work. Very polite, too. Recently, he’s been taking care of the ornamental gardens and even managed to get rid of the moles on the practice ground. He mixed a special chemical concoction for that — very effective, apparently.”

Böhler raised his eyebrows. “So, he’s creative with chemicals?”

“Yes… I suppose so,” Hanna B. answered uncertainly.

“And you’d say he’s a very sociable person?”

“Yes… most of the time. Sometimes he can get a little jealous, though.”

“Aha.” Böhler set down his glass and leaned forward slightly. “So, you and he have a closer relationship?”

Hanna B. lowered her gaze, nodded almost imperceptibly — and blushed slightly.

11 Blumer’s Report

When Böhler returned to the office, whistling cheerfully, a thick stack of papers was already lying on his desk. Inspector Peterhans had sent over the file on Willi S.

In the meantime, Blumer had been hard at work, digging up some interesting information online. With every new detail, their suspicions grew stronger: the greenkeeper apparently had more than just a few dark stains on his record.

Peterhans’ documents revealed that Willi S. had once been a prime suspect in a case in Aargau. However, nothing could be proven against him. The victim at the time had shown clear symptoms of poisoning — pathological examinations identified cyanide as the cause of death. But the source of the poison remained unclear. Due to lack of evidence, the case was eventually shelved as a cold case.

In a note, inspector Peterhans mentioned that Willi S. was seen as a kind of “failed ladies’ man” — charming, but also jealous and possessive.

Blumer had also discovered that over the past fifteen years, there had been several similar cases across Switzerland: the victims were always men who died from poisoning. Because police databases hadn’t been interconnected for a long time, investigations had mostly stayed within cantonal jurisdictions — and the cases were eventually closed as isolated incidents.

One detail stood out: Willi S. had worked at several different golf clubs, sometimes as a laborer, sometimes as a greenkeeper, and sometimes in other roles. Time and again, he appeared on the fringes of investigations — but never enough evidence was found to press charges.

Blumer pointed to a margin note in one of the reports. “It’s interesting that he also seems to have had multiple affairs with female employees.”

Böhler rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Then it’s high time we had a little chat with Willi S.”

12 Böhler Puts the Pieces Together

“Blumer, come on — we’re heading to the golf club to have a word with Willi S.!” Böhler called out as he entered the office that morning.

On the way there, they went over the facts again:

·       Heike Huber couldn’t have been the killer — she had no real motive to harm Hans R.

·       Röbi and Kurt both had solid alibis. They were ruled out.

·       Walter P. was at the bank at the time of the crime. While he had a potential motive, his whereabouts cleared him.

·       Hanna B. might have had a motive — jealousy toward Heike Huber — but would she have been able to get her hands on the necessary poison?

·       Willi S., based on what they knew so far, seemed the most likely suspect. The records painted the picture of a deeply disturbed individual.

But why Hans R.? What was the motive?

Blumer carefully navigated the police vehicle through Zurich’s heavy morning traffic while Böhler thought out loud about the possible connections.

Suddenly, Böhler furrowed his brow.

“Blumer, have we checked where the victim got the tart? Was that kind even available at the club restaurant? Was it served to him — and if so, by whom? And how much time passed between him eating and when the body was found?”

Blumer nodded. “Good questions, Chief. I’ll call Gloria Meyer. She should be able to tell us something about how quickly the poison would have taken effect.”

He reached for his phone and dialed Gloria Meyer’s number. As he waited, he noticed his boss watching him with an amused smile.

Böhler chuckled to himself. If I were thirty years younger… I’d probably be chasing after the beautiful Gloria too.

Finally, Gloria picked up.

“Yes, Meyer speaking — Gloria Meyer. Oh, it’s you, Fridolin! How’s it going?”

“Dear Gloria, I’m on duty with the Chief. Quick question: How long does it take for cyanide to kick in?”

“Symptoms like vomiting and cramps usually appear about 15 to 30 minutes after ingestion,” she explained smoothly. “Depending on the dosage, it can be faster or slower. In Hans R.’s case, the dose was significant.”

Blumer threw a meaningful glance at Böhler. The Chief inspector nodded thoughtfully.

“That means Hans R. most likely ingested the poison shortly before his round of golf. The tart is key.”

Now, they just needed to find out who had given it to him. 

13 Willi S. Under Pressure

While Chief inspector Böhler made his way to the manager’s office, Fridolin Blumer went to the club restaurant to speak with the staff.

He found out that on the day in question, a variety of tarts had been on display.

“When a guest places an order, we fetch the chosen tart from the kitchen, prepare the coffee, and serve everything together,” one of the employees explained. “While we’re working the coffee machine, the pastry sits on the plate.

Yes, yes, Mr. R. always treated himself to a tart — especially those with vanilla cream. And we loved serving him. He was charming and always left a generous tip.”

“Was Willi S. here that day as well?” Blumer asked further.

“Yes, he was on his break, had a Coke and a sandwich. He even brought Mr. R. his coffee and tart. Afterward, they chatted for a while — about what, I couldn’t say.”

Meanwhile, Chief inspector Böhler was seated with Willi S. in the meeting room. Hanna B. brought them each a glass of water, then left the room.

“Well, Mr. S.,” Böhler began calmly, “my assistant Blumer will be joining us shortly. In the meantime, we’ve come to believe that you weren’t entirely honest with us on the day of the murder.”

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

“We’ve also learned that you’ve had prior run-ins with the law. You were accused at your last workplace of secretly filming women in the locker rooms and showers.”

Willi S. jumped to his feet, his face turning bright red.

“For God’s sake, that old story again! I had nothing to do with that! Everything was cleared up! I left the club because working under those conditions was impossible.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he sat back down at Böhler’s sharp command.

“Things are different here,” he said, breathing heavily. “Here, I’m appreciated. The women like me because I help them and always have a kind word.”

He took a deep breath, wiped his hands on his pants, and continued in a calmer tone:

“I even solved the mole problem on the driving range. People get spooked when those critters scurry across the lawn.”

Böhler let him talk, then casually asked, “And how exactly did you get rid of them?”

Willi seemed to relax.

“I have a vineyard near the Rhine, and the animals were eating the roots. So I mixed up a special solution. I coat food the moles like with it. It acts very quickly — they die right in their burrows, so there’s no need to collect the carcasses.”

Böhler placed his hands slowly on the table. “Interesting.”

Then he locked eyes with Willi.

“Back to the accusations: So, you’re saying you had no reason to be unhappy here?”

“No, I’m doing just fine,” Willi answered quickly. “The manager likes me a lot and appreciates my work… if you know what I mean.”

Böhler let the remark pass without comment. Instead, he leaned back and asked casually,

“Would you be willing to sell me some of your special solution?”

A flash of relief crossed Willi’s face. The interrogation was over.

“Of course, I’ll just grab some from my storage,” he said eagerly and rushed out.

Böhler headed over to Hanna B.’s office to verify some of Willi’s claims.

She hesitated, but finally admitted, somewhat embarrassed, that she was involved with the greenkeeper.

“It’s nothing serious — at least not for me. There are much more attractive men than him…” She paused. “Like Hans R., for example.”

Böhler raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Hanna B. shrugged.

“The only strange thing was Willi couldn’t stand Hans. It really got under his skin when Hans stopped by my office. Was he jealous? I don’t know.”

Armed with a sample of Willi’s special mixture and a host of new information, the Chief inspector and his assistant headed back to headquarters.

Blumer could hardly wait to see Gloria Meyer in forensics. As soon as they arrived, the substance was tested — and identified as cyanide.

Böhler leaned back, satisfied.

They had their murderer.

14 Willi S. is Caught

“Now we know what it was. Thanks to the tests and the blood analysis, we can say without a doubt it was the same poison mixture,” Böhler said, leaning back, tapping his pencil on the table, and grumbling, “But who’s the poisoner?”

Then he smirked and turned to Blumer.

“I’ve got an idea. How about you visit Hanna B. a few times and flirt with her a bit? Show some obvious interest — in golf, in the club. Make it noticeable, so guests and staff pick up on it. Really lay it on thick… just imagine it’s Gloria from forensics.”

He laughed heartily while Blumer rolled his eyes. But an assignment was an assignment, and so he called Hanna B. to arrange a meeting.

Over the next few days, Blumer regularly attended the beginner training sessions at the club, stayed for lunch at the restaurant, and greeted Hanna B. each time with exaggerated friendliness.

The cheerful mountain boy from Glarus quickly won over the hearts of the club ladies, especially the Ladies’ Section. His sunny personality and natural charm made him the subject of many secret crushes.

Of course, Willi S. noticed. Every time he saw Blumer flirting with Hanna B., he clenched his teeth. His jealousy grew unbearable. More than once, he caught himself fantasizing about grabbing his “rival” and knocking him down.

Blumer kept Böhler updated on the daily developments. Böhler listened carefully and finally murmured with satisfaction:

“Just a few more days. Then we’ll have him.”

They agreed that the trap would spring the following Wednesday. Blumer would be flirting with Hanna B. in her office while Böhler waited in the next room. Just before, Willi S. would be called into the office — an unexpected confrontation meant to push him over the edge.

On Wednesday, Blumer showed up dressed particularly sharply. A dash of his favorite cologne, a charming smile — and the stage was set.

In Hanna B.’s office, he began the act. Standing behind her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and started massaging her tense neck. She sighed with pleasure and closed her eyes blissfully.

From the adjacent room, Böhler peered through the door crack, smirking. Ah, to be young again, he thought, waiting patiently for what was about to happen.

At that moment, the door opened — and Willi S. stepped in.

“Shall I keep going, dear Hanna?” Blumer asked provocatively, softly brushing her neck.

Willi S. froze. His face twisted in rage, turned beet red, and his hands clenched into fists.

Then he exploded.

“YOU BASTARD! GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER, OR ELSE…!” he roared, taking a step forward.

But Blumer remained perfectly calm.

“Relax, Willi,” he said with a smug grin. “Hanna’s enjoying my soft hands. Bit different from your clumsy paws.”

Hanna B. wasn’t part of the official plan, but much to Blumer’s surprise, she seemed to be genuinely enjoying the show. She stretched back in her chair, purred contentedly, and sighed, “Yeeees…”

That was too much for Willi S.

His face twisted into a mask of hate.

“You stupid slut!” he screamed. “That guy’s just as much of a scumbag as Hans R.! He didn’t listen either…”

And then it all poured out.

He lunged at Blumer — smashing right into the door just as Chief inspector Böhler stepped calmly into the room.

“That’s enough, Willi.”

Willi S. lost all control. His wild, incoherent screaming only piled more evidence against him with every passing second. Finally, the handcuffs clicked shut.

Hanna B. wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. That young Glarner might have been worth a little sin after all…

Later, during the final investigation, the sequence of events was reconstructed beyond any doubt:

Willi S. had laced the tart in the kitchen, swapped it onto the serving plate, and personally handed it to Hans R. — removing a rival from his path.

Thanks to the clever strategy of Böhler and Blumer, he not only confessed to this murder but also to earlier crimes.

Willi S. would spend the rest of his miserable life behind bars.

And the moral of the story — well, I’ll leave that unsaid.

In the streets of Zurich, no crime goes unpunished as long as men like Chief inspector Böhler and his loyal assistant keep a vigilant watch over the city and its citizens — determined to uphold law and order.

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

©Thomas von Riedt 2025

Image by Dall-e