Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(17)
“Hey, sweetie,” murmured Christoph, blinking away sleep in the bright light. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to ten.”
He sat up and massaged his temples with a groan. Contrary to habit he had heavily indulged in alcohol last night. “So when does Annika’s plane leave?”
“Around two. We still have plenty of time.”
“What’s that you have there?” he asked when he spied the letter in Pia’s hand.
“A catastrophe,” she said morosely. “The zoning office answered.”
“And?” Christoph was trying hard to wake up.
“It’s a demolition order!”
“What?”
“The previous owner built this house without a permit—imagine! And now our inquiry has awakened sleeping dogs. All that’s approved is a garden hut and a horse stall. I don’t get it.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed, shaking her head. “I’ve been registered at this address for a few years now; the garbagemen pick up the trash, I pay the water and sewer bills. Did they really think I’ve been living in a garden hut?”
“Let me see.” Christoph scratched his head as he read the official letter. “We’ll lodge a protest. It’s just not right. The next-door neighbor is building a huge house, and you can’t even remodel your little bungalow!”
The cell phone on the nightstand rang. Pia, who was on call that day, reluctantly picked it up. She listened for a few moments in silence.
“All right, I’ll be there,” she said, punched off the call, and tossed the cell on the bed. “Damn.”
“You have to go?”
“Yes, sorry. A young man in Niederh?chstadt who was on the train platform yesterday reported that he saw a man push a woman over the railing.”
Christoph put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Pia gave a deep sigh. He kissed first her cheek, then her lips. Why couldn’t this youth have waited until this afternoon to report the incident? Pia simply didn’t feel like working right now. Actually, it was Behnke’s turn to be on call this weekend. But he was “sick,” after all. And Hasse was “sick” too. To hell with those idiots! Pia leaned back and cuddled up to Christoph’s body, warm with sleep. His hand slid under the bath towel and caressed her belly.
“Now stop worrying about this piece of paper,” he whispered, kissing her again. “We’ll figure it out. They’re not going to tear the house down tomorrow.”
“Nothing but problems, day in and day out,” Pia murmured, deciding that the kid could wait a while longer at the station in Niederh?chstadt.
* * *
Bodenstein sat in his car across from the hospital in Bad Soden and waited for his colleague to show up. Dr. Lauterbach had given him the address of Rita Cramer’s ex-husband in Altenhain, but before he could give the man the bad news he had wanted to stop by the hospital and get an update on her condition. She had survived the first night; after an operation she now lay in an induced coma in the ICU. It was eleven thirty when Kirchhoff pulled up next to him, got out, and made her way around the puddles to his car.
“The kid gave us a pretty good description of the man.” She plopped into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt. “If Kai can manage to get a decent photo off the surveillance video, we’ll have a picture to give to the press.”
“Excellent.” Bodenstein started the engine. He had asked Pia to ride with him to visit Rita Cramer’s ex-husband. On the short drive to Altenhain he told her about his conversation with Dr. Daniela Lauterbach. Pia had a hard time concentrating. She was still worried about the letter from the zoning office. Demolition order! That was the last thing she had expected. What if the city was serious and forced her to have the house torn down? Where would she and Christoph live then?
“Are you listening to me at all?” asked Oliver.
“Sure,” said Pia. “Sartorius. Neighbor. Altenhain. I’m sorry, but we didn’t get home till four in the morning.”
She yawned and closed her eyes. She was dead tired. Unfortunately she didn’t possess Oliver’s iron constitution. He never seemed the least bit tired even after all-night stakeouts and exhausting investigations. Had she ever seen him yawn?
“The case was all over the headlines eleven years ago,” she could hear her boss saying. “Tobias Sartorius got a maximum sentence for one count of murder and one count of manslaughter after a trial based solely on circumstantial evidence.”
“Ah yes,” she murmured. “Now I remember. Double homicide with no bodies. Is the guy still in prison?”
“No. Tobias Sartorius was released last Thursday. And he’s back in Altenhain, staying with his father.”
Pia thought about this for a few seconds, then opened her eyes.
“You mean there could be a connection between his release and the attack on his mother?”
Bodenstein cast an amused glance at her. “Unbelievable,” he said.
“What?”
“Your shrewd insight never fails even when you’re half asleep.”
“I’m wide awake,” said Pia, fighting off another yawn.
They passed the sign at the town limits of Altenhain and found the address on the main street that Dr. Lauterbach had written down. Bodenstein turned into the unpaved parking area in front of the former restaurant. A man was busy applying white paint to cover up some bright red graffiti on the fa?ade. It said HERE LIVES A RUTHLESS KILLER. The red letters still shimmered through the white paint. On the sidewalk near the driveway stood three middle-aged women.