Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(125)

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Bodenstein rested his chin in his hand and stared at the empty cognac glass. How could he have been so wrong about Daniela Lauterbach? Her husband had murdered Stefanie Schneeberger in the heat of the moment, but she was ice cold. She had covered up what he’d done and threatened Thies Terlinden for years afterward, doping him up with drugs and intimidating him. She had allowed Tobias Sartorius to go to prison and sat by as his parents went through hell.

Bodenstein reached for the bottle of Rémy Martin that he’d once received as a gift and which had stood unopened for over a year in his cabinet. He loathed the stuff, but he was in the mood for something alcoholic. All day long he hadn’t eaten a bite, drinking way too much coffee. In one gulp he emptied the third glass of cognac in fifteen minutes and grimaced. The liquor kindled a small, agreeable fire in his stomach, flowed through his bloodstream, and relaxed him. His gaze wandered to the framed photograph of Cosima next to the telephone. She was smiling at him, as she had done for years. He didn’t hold it against her that this morning she had ambushed him and provoked him to say and do despicable things. He still regretted having lost control that way. Although she was the one who had ruined everything, he felt himself in the wrong. And that bothered him at least as much as his arrogant belief that he’d had a perfect marriage. Cosima had chosen to cheat on him with a younger man because he no longer satisfied her as a man. She had been bored with him and so she sought out another man, an adventurer like herself. This thought drove his feeling of self-worth to sink even lower than he would have thought possible. There was a knock on the door as he downed his fourth cognac.

“Yes?”

Nicola Engel stuck her head in the door.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Come in.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. She entered his office, closed the door behind her, and came closer.

“I’ve just gotten word that Lauterbach has been stripped of his immunity. The court has approved the arrest warrant for him and Ms. von Bredow.” She remained standing in front of his desk and eyed him. “My God, you look terrible. I didn’t realize this case was taking such a toll on you.”

What should he say to that? He was too tired to give a tactically intelligent answer. He still couldn’t really read Nicola. Was she asking out of genuine human interest or because she wanted to use his failures as the final nail in the coffin and put an end to his role as the head of K-11?

“The attendant circumstances have been getting to me,” he finally admitted. “Behnke, Hasse. This stupid talk about Pia and me.”

“There’s nothing to it, is there?”

“No, of course not.” He leaned back. His neck was sore, and he grimaced again. Her eyes fell on the cognac.

“Have you got another glass?”

“In the cabinet. Bottom left.”

She turned around, opened the cabinet door, took out a glass, and sat down on one of the visitors’ chairs facing his desk. He poured her a finger’s width, then filled his own glass almost to the brim. Nicola Engel raised her eyebrows but said nothing. He said “Cheers” and drank without putting the glass down.

“What’s really wrong?” she wanted to know. She was a sharp observer, and she’d known him for a long time now. Before he met Cosima, whom he married soon afterward, he and Nicola had been a couple for two years. Why try to fool her? Soon everybody would find out anyway, especially when he gave them his new address.

“Cosima has found somebody else,” he said, trying to make his voice sound as calm as possible. “I’d had my suspicions for a while, and a couple of days ago she admitted it.”

“Oh.” It didn’t sound like schadenfreude. But she couldn’t bring herself to say she was sorry. He didn’t care. He grabbed the bottle, filled his glass again. Nicola looked at him without saying a word. He drank. Felt the effect of the alcohol on an empty stomach and understood why people, under certain circumstances, turned into alcoholics. Cosima retreated all the way to the back of his consciousness, and his worries about Amelie, Thies, and Daniela Lauterbach went up in smoke.

“I’m not a good cop,” he said. “Or a good boss. You should look for somebody else to do my job.”

“Not on your life,” she answered firmly. “When I started here last year, that was my intention, I admit. But now I’ve had a year to watch your management style and the way you lead your team. I could use a few more people like you.”

He didn’t say anything to this, and wanted to pour himself another cognac, but the bottle was empty. He casually tossed the bottle in the wastebasket and followed it with Cosima’s photo. When he picked up the basket, he met Nicola’s searching look.

“I think you should call it a day,” she said, glancing at her watch. “It’s almost midnight. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“I don’t have a home anymore,” he reminded her. “I’m living with my parents again. Funny, right?”

“Better than a hotel. So, come on. Let’s go.”

Bodenstein didn’t budge. He didn’t move his gaze from her face. Suddenly he remembered the first time he’d met her, more than twenty-seven years ago, at a party given by a fellow student. He’d been standing around in the tiny kitchen with a couple of guys drinking beer. He hadn’t really noticed the girls at the party, because the disappointment over breaking up with Inka was still too fresh in his mind for him to consider a new relationship. In front of the door to the toilet he met Nicola. She had looked him over from head to toe and in her inimitable direct way said something to him that caused him to leave the party with her on the spot, without even saying good-bye to the host. That time he had also been drunk and in pain, the way he was today. Unexpectedly a wave of heat raced through his body and shot into his abdomen like glowing lava.