Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(49)

“You’re still up,” his wife said in astonishment. She looked calm and composed, as always, and he felt like a sailor on a rough sea who gratefully catches sight of the lighthouse in the distance.

She scrutinized him and sniffed. “You’ve been drinking. Has something happened?”

How well she knew him. He’d never been able to put anything past her. He sat down on the bottom step.

“I can’t sleep,” was all he said, omitting any explanation. All of a sudden and with a vehemence that shocked him, he longed for her motherly love, for her embrace, her consolation.

“I’ll give you a lorazepam,” she said.

“No!” Gregor Lauterbach stood up, staggered a bit, and reached out his hand to her. “I don’t want any pills. I want…”

He broke off when he saw her look of surprise. All at once he felt wretched and pathetic.

“What do you want?” she asked softly.

“I just want to sleep in the same bed with you tonight, Dani,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please.”

* * *



Pia Kirchhoff looked at the woman sitting across from her at the kitchen table. She had informed Andrea Wagner that forensics had released the mortal remains of her daughter Laura. Since the mother of the dead girl had seemed composed, Pia asked her a few questions about Laura and her relationship with Tobias Sartorius.

“Why do you want to know about that?” Mrs. Wagner asked suspiciously.

“For the past few days I’ve been examining the old documents in detail,” Kirchhoff replied. “And somehow I have the feeling that something was overlooked. When we told Tobias Sartorius that Laura had been found, I got the impression that he really didn’t know a thing about it. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not trying to say that I consider him innocent.”

Andrea Wagner looked at her with a dull expression. For a while she said not a word.

“I’ve stopped thinking about all that,” she said then. “It’s hard enough to keep going with the entire village watching. My other two children had to grow up in the shadow of their dead sister, and I did everything in my power to make sure they had a fairly normal childhood. But it’s not easy with a father who drinks himself into a stupor every night at the Black Horse because he won’t accept what happened.”

She didn’t sound bitter; it was merely a statement of fact.

“I refuse to let that topic get to me anymore. Otherwise our whole life here would have fallen apart long ago.” She motioned toward a stack of paper on the table. “Unpaid bills, dunning notices. I work in the supermarket in Bad Soden so that the house and the cabinet shop won’t go into foreclosure. Then we’d wind up in the same situation as Hartmut Sartorius. Somehow things must go on. I can’t afford to live in the past the way my husband does.”

Kirchhoff said nothing. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen how a terrible event could throw the life of a whole family off the track and destroy it forever. How strong people like Andrea Wagner must be to get up morning after morning and keep on, with no hope of improvement. Was there anything at all in the life of this woman that made her happy?

“I’ve known Tobias since he was born,” Andrea Wagner went on. “We were friends with the family, as we were with everyone here in the village. My husband was in charge of the volunteer fire department and youth trainer at the sports club. Tobias was his best forward. Manfred was always very proud of him.” A smile flitted across her pale, careworn face, but vanished at once. She sighed. “No one would have believed Tobias was capable of such a thing, and I didn’t either at first. But you can’t tell what’s going on in a person’s head by looking them in the face, can you?”

“No, you’re quite right about that.” Kirchhoff nodded in agreement. The Wagner family had gone through enough bad times, God knows, and she didn’t want to open old wounds. Actually she had no basis for asking questions about a case that had been cleared up long ago. She simply had this vague feeling that bothered her.

She said good-bye to Mrs. Wagner, left the house, and walked across the neglected yard toward her car. From inside the workshop the screeching sound of a saw assaulted her ears. Pia stopped, then turned around and went over to open the door of the cabinet shop. It was only fair to tell Manfred Wagner that he would soon be able to lay his daughter to rest and finally put an end to a terrible chapter in his life. Maybe then he would somehow be able to regain his footing. He stood with his back to her at a workbench, pushing a board through a band saw. When he shut off the machine, Pia announced her presence. The man wasn’t wearing ear protection, only a slovenly baseball cap, and from the corner of his mouth drooped an extinguished cigarillo. He cast an unfriendly look in her direction before leaning forward to concentrate on another board. His baggy pants slipped down and Pia was faced with the unsightly view of the top of his hairy behind.

“What do you want?” he muttered. “I’m busy.”

He hadn’t shaved since their last meeting, and his clothes exuded the sharp smell of old sweat. Pia shuddered and took an involuntary step back. What must it be like to have to live day in and day out with such a slovenly man? Her empathy with Andrea Wagner grew stronger.

“Mr. Wagner, I was just speaking with your wife, but I also wanted to tell you in person,” Pia began.