Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(53)

“Yes, Amelie really is incredible,” he replied thoughtfully. “Incredibly brave and fearless.”

He thought about how she had recovered so quickly from the attack in the barnyard. Any other girl would have dissolved in tears and run home or to the police, but not Amelie. What was it she’d wanted to tell him? What had Thies said to her?

“Do you like her?” Nadia wanted to know. If he hadn’t been so deep in his thoughts, he might have some other, more diplomatic response.

“Yes,” he said. “I like her. She’s so … different.”

“Different from whom? Me?”

Then Tobias looked up. He met her scandalized gaze and wanted to smile, but the smile turned into a grimace.

“Different from the people here, I meant.” He squeezed her hand. “Amelie is only seventeen. She’s like a little sister.”

“All right, then be careful that you don’t turn little sister’s head with those blue eyes of yours.” Nadia pulled her hand away and crossed her legs. She looked at him with her head cocked. “I don’t think you have the slightest idea what sort of effect you have on women, do you?”

Her words reminded him of his younger days. How come he’d never noticed that Nadia’s critical remarks about other girls had always hidden a spark of jealousy?

“Aw, come on now,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “Amelie works at the Black Horse and overheard something there. For one thing, she recognized Manfred Wagner in the photo the police made public. He was the one who shoved my mother off the bridge.”

“What?”

“Yes, he did. And she also thinks that Pietsch, Richter, and Dombrowski were the ones who beat me up last night. They showed up unusually late for their card game.”

Nadia stared at him incredulously. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Amelie is also firmly convinced that somebody saw something back then that might exonerate me. Just as you drove up she was about to tell me something about Thies, about Lauterbach, and about some pictures.”

“That would be … that would be really incredible!” Nadia jumped up and took a few steps toward her car. She turned around and gave Tobias an outraged look. “But why didn’t that person ever say anything?”

“Yeah, if I only knew.” Tobias leaned back and tentatively stretched out his legs. Every movement of his battered body hurt, in spite of the painkillers. “In any case, Amelie must have found out something. Stefanie once told me that she’d gotten it on with Lauterbach. You remember him, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Nadia nodded, staring at him.

“At first I thought she was just saying that to make herself seem important, but then I saw the two of them together behind the tent, at the fair. That’s the reason I made a beeline for home. I was…” He broke off, searching for the right words to describe the tumult of emotions that had been running wild inside him. It would have been impossible to slip a piece of paper between them, they were standing so close, and Lauterbach had his hand on her ass. The abrupt realization that Stefanie was messing around with other men had thrown him into a churning maelstrom.

“… furious,” Nadia finished his sentence.

“No,” Tobias countered. “I was not furious. I was … hurt and sad. I really did love Stefanie.”

“Just imagine if that piece of information got out.” Nadia gave a soft and slightly nasty laugh. “What do you think the headlines would say? Our cultural minister the child molester!”

“So you think they had a real relationship?”

Nadia stopped laughing. In her eyes he saw a peculiar expression that he couldn’t interpret. She shrugged.

“I would have believed it of him, at any rate. He was crazy about his Snow White. He even gave her the leading role although she had almost no talent. Whenever she came around the corner his tongue would be hanging out of his mouth.”

Suddenly they were in the midst of the topic they had avoided so assiduously until now. At the time Tobias hadn’t been surprised that Stefanie got the leading role in the Christmas pageant put on by the drama club. In terms of appearance she was perfect for the role of Snow White. He had vivid memories of the evening when that first occurred to him. Stefanie had climbed into his car, wearing a white summer dress and red lipstick, her dark hair blowing in the wind as they drove. White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony—she had said those words herself and then laughed. Where did they drive to that night? All of a sudden he knew, as if struck by a bolt of lightning. There it was again, the thought that had been nagging at him for days. Do you guys remember how my sister stole my old man’s key ring and we raced around inside the old airplane hangar? That’s what J?rg had said on Thursday night in the garage. Of course he remembered! That evening they had headed over there, and Stefanie had dared him to drive faster because they were alone in the car. J?rg’s father, Karl-Heinz Richter, had been at the telephone exchange, and in the seventies and eighties he had worked on the grounds of the old military airfield. As kids he, J?rg, and the others had been allowed to go with him and play at the deserted site. Later, when they were older, they had organized secret car races and parties. And now Laura’s skeleton had been found at that very location. Could it be a coincidence?

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