Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(128)
“Now you shut up!” Bodenstein interrupted the man. “All you wanted was to keep your son Lars out of it! You were concerned solely with protecting your own name, which inevitably would have ended up in the newspapers if Lars had been connected to the murders. The young people and the villagers meant nothing to you. And it’s glaringly obvious how unimportant the Sartorius family was to you because you opened the Black Horse to compete with the Golden Rooster and even hired Sartorius’s cook to manage your restaurant.”
“In addition, you exploited the circumstances with ice-cold determination,” Pia took over. “Albert Schneeberger never wanted to sell you his company, but you put such massive pressure on him in this terrible situation that he finally did. Then, contrary to your agreement, you fired his employees and broke up the company. You are the only one who profited from the whole sad affair—in every respect!”
Claudius Terlinden glared daggers at Pia.
“But now everything has turned out very differently than you ever thought possible.” Pia refused to be intimidated. “The people in Altenhain didn’t wait for further orders from you, but decided to take action on their own. And then Amelie showed up and began investigating on her own initiative, putting half the village at risk. But your power had diminished to such an extent that you couldn’t stop the avalanche that was triggered by Tobias’s return.”
Terlinden’s expression darkened. Pia crossed her arms and returned his infuriated look without batting an eye. She had nailed his sore spot with absolute precision.
“If Amelie and Thies die,” she said with an ominous undertone, “you will bear sole responsibility for their deaths!”
“Where could those two be?” Bodenstein took over. “Where is Dr. Lauterbach?”
“I don’t know,” Claudius Terlinden said between clenched teeth. “God damn it, I really don’t know!”
* * *
The dark gray clouds hovering low over the Taunus promised snow. In the past twenty-four hours the temperature had dropped by almost eighteen degrees. This time the snow would stick. Pia was driving down the pedestrian street in K?nigstein, ignoring the angry looks from the few people who were out. She parked in front of the jewelry store above which Dr. Lauterbach had her practice. There a receptionist was bravely holding the fort, patiently fielding the incessant phone calls, and rescheduling indignant patients who had appointments that day.
“Dr. Lauterbach is not in,” she replied to Bodenstein’s inquiry. “And I haven’t been able to reach her by phone.”
“But she’s not at the conference in Munich.”
“No, that was only on the weekend.” The woman raised her hands helplessly as the phone rang again. “Actually she wanted to be back today. You can see what’s going on here.”
“We presume that she’s cleared out,” said Bodenstein. “We think she’s responsible for the abduction of two people, and she knows that we’re on her trail.”
The receptionist shook her head, wide-eyed.
“But that can’t be,” she protested. “I’ve been working for the doctor for twelve years. She would never hurt anyone. I mean, I … I know her.”
“When was the last time you saw Dr. Lauterbach or spoke with her? Has she been acting differently in the past few days, or has she been away more than usual?” Bodenstein glanced at the name tag on the right breast pocket of the woman’s starched white smock. “Mrs. Wiesmeier, please think! Your boss may have made a mistake, although she meant well. You could help her now, before things get any worse.”
Bodenstein’s personal plea and the urgent tone of his voice had an effect. Waltraud Wiesmeier paused to think, a frown on her face.
“I’ve been wondering why Dr. Lauterbach canceled all her appointments for people to look at Mrs. Scheithauer’s villa last week,” she said after a while. “She’s been trying for months to find a buyer for that big old place, and finally somebody was interested and wanted to come down from Düsseldorf on Thursday. But I had to call and cancel the appointment with him and two real estate agents. It was strange.”
“What kind of house is it?”
“An old villa on Grüner Weg with a view of the Woogtal. Mrs. Scheithauer was one of our patients for years. She had no heirs, and when she died in April she left her estate to a foundation and the villa to Dr. Lauterbach.” She gave an embarrassed smile. “I think the boss would have preferred it the other way around.”
* * *
“‘At a press conference this morning a spokesman for the cultural ministry announced the surprising resignation of Cultural Minister Gregor Lauterbach, stating personal reasons…,” said the news reporter on the car radio as Pia turned from ?lmühlweg down Grüner Weg. She slowly drove past the new construction and turned onto a cul-de-sac that ended at a huge wrought-iron gate.
“There has been no official reaction from the state chancellery. The government spokesman…”
“This must be it.” Bodenstein undid his seatbelt and got out almost before Pia had stopped the car. The gate was secured by a chain and a brand-new padlock, and only the roof of the villa could be seen. Pia shook the bars of the gate and looked to the left and right. The wall was over six feet tall with iron spikes on top.