Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(115)

In the last few days Christoph had been worrying himself sick about the matter, and his former optimism had swiftly evaporated. The seller of Birkenhof had failed to mention to Pia that there was a construction ban on the land where the house stood because of the high-tension lines from the power plant. The seller’s father had erected a hut sometime after the war and had expanded it over the years without a building permit. For sixty years no one had noticed until she had applied for a building permit, ignorant of the illegality.

Pia quickly fed the poultry, then she phoned Bodenstein. When he didn’t answer, she wrote him a text and then, lost in thought, walked back to the house, which suddenly seemed foreign to her. On her tiptoes she crept into the bedroom.

“Do you have to go?” asked Christoph.

“Yes. Did I wake you?” She turned on the light.

“No. I couldn’t sleep either.” He looked at her, his head propped on his hand. “I’ve been wondering for half the night what we can do if they’re serious.”

“Me too.” Pia sat down on the edge of the bed. “Anyway, I’m going to sue the shitheads that sold me this property. It was malicious fraud, most definitely.”

“We’ll have to prove it first,” Christoph noted. “I’m going to discuss it today with a friend of mine who knows about these things. Until then we won’t do anything.”

Pia sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I would have done alone.”

“If I hadn’t come into your life, you would never have applied for a building permit, and nothing would have happened.” Christoph gave her a crooked grin. “Now don’t get discouraged. Go do your job and I’ll worry about all this, okay?”

“Okay.” Pia managed a smile. She bent over and gave Christoph a kiss. “Unfortunately I have no idea when I’ll be home tonight.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Christoph smiled too. “I have to work at the zoo.”

* * *



Bodenstein recognized her familiar figure from far away. She was standing in the light of the streetlamp next to her car in the parking lot, her red hair the only spot of color in the misty darkness. He hesitated a moment before he strode over to her. Cosima was not a woman who would allow anyone to hang up on her. Actually he should have known that sooner or later she would waylay him, but the case he was working on had monopolized his attention. So now he felt unprepared and at a disadvantage.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You didn’t call me back,” said Cosima. “I have to talk with you.”

“Jeez, right now?” He stood in front of her, studying her pale, composed face. His heart was pounding and it took a real effort to remain calm. “You haven’t felt the need to talk to me in weeks. Go find your Russian friend if you’re in the mood to talk.”

He pulled out his car key, but she didn’t budge from the spot where she was standing next to the car door.

“I want to explain—” she began.

“I don’t want to hear it. And I really don’t have time right now,” Oliver interrupted her. He had barely slept all night and had to get going urgently, which made for rather poor conditions for an important talk like this.

“Oliver, please believe me, I didn’t want to hurt you!” Cosima reached out her hand to him, but let it drop when he shrank back. Her breath stood like a white cloud in the cold morning air. “I didn’t want to go that far, but—”

“Just stop!” he shouted. “You did hurt me! More than any person ever has! I don’t want to hear any excuses or justifications from you, because no matter what you say, you’ve ruined everything! Everything!”

Cosima didn’t say a word.

“Who knows how many times you’ve cheated on me before? The way you’ve played me for a fool and lied to me is such a cliché,” he went on through clenched teeth. “What did you do on all those business trips? How many beds did you waltz through while your stupidly na?ve and trusting bourgeois husband dutifully stayed home with the kids and waited for you? Maybe you even had a laugh at my expense because I was dumb enough to trust you!”

Like poisonous lava these words erupted from the depths of him; finally all the bottled-up disappointment came pouring out. Cosima let his anger wash over her without batting an eye.

“Maybe Sophia isn’t even my child—maybe she’s the brat of one of those shaggy, dubious film types you like to hang out with!”

He stopped talking when he realized how monstrous this reproach was. But now that he’d said it, he couldn’t take it back.

“I would have bet my life on our marriage,” he said in a strained voice. “But you’ve lied to me and betrayed me. I’ll never be able to trust you again.”

Cosima straightened her shoulders.

“I thought you’d react like this,” she responded coolly. “Self-righteous and uncompromising. You see the whole thing only from your own egotistical point of view.”

“How else would I see it? From the point of view of your Russian lover?” He snorted. “You’re the one who’s selfish. For twenty long years you never once asked me how I was doing. You went off traveling for weeks at a time. I never liked it, but I accepted it because your work is important to you. Then you got pregnant. You never asked me if I wanted another child, you made the decision all on your own and presented me with the facts. You should have known that with a little baby you wouldn’t be able to go globetrotting. Then out of sheer boredom you plunged into an affair—and now you want to accuse me of being selfish? If it wasn’t all so sad, I’d have to laugh!”