Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(112)

Gregor Lauterbach fidgeted on his chair and licked his lips nervously.

“How old was Stefanie at the time?” Bodenstein asked.

“Seventeen.”

“And how old were you?”

“Twenty-seven.” Lauterbach was almost whispering. His pale cheeks flushed blood-red and he lowered his eyes.

“Did you have relations with Stefanie Schneeberger on September 6, 1997, or not?”

Lauterbach was petrified.

“You’re bluffing,” said his lawyer, finally coming to his aid. “The girl could have slept with anyone.”

“What clothes were you wearing on the evening of September 6, 1997?” Bodenstein didn’t let himself be put off, and he didn’t take his eyes off Lauterbach, who looked at him in bewilderment and shrugged.

“I submit to you that you were wearing jeans, a light blue shirt over a green T-shirt from the fair committee, and light brown shoes.”

“What does that have to do with the case?” Lauterbach’s lawyer wanted to know.

“Here.” Bodenstein paid no attention to him. He took the printouts of Thies’s paintings from the file and laid them out for Lauterbach, one after the other. “These pictures were painted by Thies Terlinden. He was an eyewitness to both murders, and this was his way of communicating what he saw.”

He tapped his finger on one of the figures.

“Who could that be?” he asked. Lauterbach stared at the pictures and shrugged.

“That’s you, Mr. Lauterbach. You kissed Stefanie Schneeberger at the fair and then you had sexual relations with her.”

“No,” Gregor Lauterbach murmured, white in the face. “No, no, that’s not right, you have to believe me!”

“You were her teacher,” Bodenstein went on, unperturbed. “Stefanie was in a subordinate position to you. What you did is punishable by law, and you suddenly realized that. You had to be afraid that Stefanie would tell someone about it. A teacher who has sex with his underage pupil is finished.”

Gregor Lauterbach shook his head.

“You beat Stefanie to death, threw the tire iron into the cesspool, and went home. There you confessed everything to your wife, and she advised you to keep your mouth shut. Her prediction of what would happen worked, but not entirely. The police did hold Tobias responsible for the murder, and he was arrested and convicted. There was only one small problem: Stefanie’s body had disappeared. Someone must have seen you with Stefanie.”

Lauterbach was still shaking his head.

“You suspected Thies Terlinden of being an accessory. So that he would keep his mouth shut, your wife—as Thies’s doctor—administered drugs to the young man on a regular basis and exerted intense intimidation. That worked fine for eleven years. Until Tobias Sartorius was released from prison. You learned from your acquaintance Andreas Hasse, a member of K-11, that we were interested in the old case, yes, that we had even gotten hold of the old files. And then you persuaded Hasse to remove the relevant interview transcripts from the files.”

“That’s not true,” Lauterbach whispered hoarsely. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Yes, it is,” Kirchhoff now said. “Hasse has already admitted it and as a result has been suspended from duty. If you hadn’t done that, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“What is the point of all this?” Dr. Anders put in. “Even if my client had sexual relations with his pupil, the statute of limitations on the assault expired long ago.”

“But not on the murder.”

“I didn’t murder Stefanie!”

“Then why did you talk Mr. Hasse into destroying the interview transcripts?”

“Because … because I … I … I thought it would be better if I kept my name out of all this,” Lauterbach admitted. The sweat was now running down his cheeks. “Could I have something to drink?”

Nicola Engel stood up without a word, left the room, and returned a moment later with a bottle of water and a glass. She set both in front of Lauterbach and sat down. Lauterbach unscrewed the cap, poured himself a glass of water, and drank the whole thing.

“Where is Amelie Fr?hlich?” Kirchhoff asked. “And where is Thies Terlinden?”

“How should I know?” said Lauterbach.

“You knew that Thies witnessed everything back then,” Kirchhoff replied. “You also found out that Amelie was interested in the events of 1997. Both of these facts presented a threat to you. So it’s not hard to imagine that you had something to do with their disappearance. At the time Amelie vanished, you and Terlinden were at the very spot where she was last seen.”

In the harsh fluorescent light Gregor Lauterbach looked like a zombie. His face glistened with sweat, and he was rubbing his palms nervously on his thighs until his lawyer put his hand on his arm.

“Mr. Lauterbach.” Bodenstein stood up, rested his hands on the tabletop, and leaned forward. “We’re going to compare your DNA with that found in the vagina of Stefanie Schneeberger. If it’s a match, you will be charged with statutory rape of an underage pupil, regardless of what your lawyer here says about the time limit running out. Based on these accusations that will be the end of your tenure as cultural minister. I will do my best to bring you to trial, I promise you that. I don’t have to tell you what the press will do when it comes out that because of your silence an innocent young man, a former pupil of yours at that, had to serve ten years in prison!”