Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(80)

* * *



Oliver was still sitting on the step smoking. At his feet lay four cigarette butts. For a moment Pia stood silently in front of her boss so she could take in this unusual sight.

“And?” He looked up. His face was pale.

“Imagine this: The Terlindens went out to eat with the Lauterbachs,” Pia reported. “And the manager of the Ebony Club is also the owner of the Black Horse in Altenhain. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What else do you want to know?” Pia was playing dumb.

“Did you … see them?”

“Yes, I did.” She bent down to pick up the cigarette pack he had laid on the step beside him and put it in her pocket. “Come on. I don’t feel like freezing my ass off.”

Oliver got up stiffly, took one last drag on the cigarette, and flicked the butt into the wet street. As they walked Pia took a quick look at him in profile. Was he still hoping for an innocent explanation for this tête-à-tête between his wife and the attractive stranger?

“Alexander Gavrilow,” she said, and stopped. “The polar explorer and mountain climber.”

“Excuse me?” Oliver gave her a baffled look.

“That’s the man Cosima was with,” she explained, and then finished the sentence in her mind:… and who is definitely f*cking her.

Oliver rubbed his hand over his face. “Of course.” He was speaking more to himself than to Pia. “I thought that guy looked familiar. Cosima introduced him to me once, I think, at her last film premiere. They planned a film project together years ago, but nothing came of it.”

“Maybe it was just a business lunch,” Pia tried to reassure him in spite of her own opinions. “Maybe they were discussing a project you’re not supposed to know about, and you’re worrying about it for nothing.”

Oliver looked at Pia, and for an instant a mocking glint flashed in his eyes but then vanished immediately.

“I have eyes,” he said. “And I know what I saw. My wife is sleeping with that guy, and who knows how long it’s been going on. Maybe it’s good that I don’t have to kid myself any longer.”

He resolutely started walking, and Pia almost had to run to keep up with him.



Thies knows everything, and the police are getting curious. You ought to make sure that you get hold of that item. Because you have everything to lose!




The letters on the screen swam before his eyes. The e-mail had been sent to his official address at the ministry. Good God, what if his secretary read it? She usually printed his e-mails every morning and laid them out for him. Only occasionally did he get to the office before she did. Gregor Lauterbach bit his lip and clicked on the sender: [email protected]. Who was hiding behind that address? Who, who, who? This question had dominated his thoughts since the first letter arrived; day and night he could hardly think about anything else. Fear attacked him like a convulsive shudder.

There was a knock on the door before it opened. He jumped as if he’d had a pail of boiling water dumped on him. At the sight of his face Ines Schürmann-Liedtke found herself unable to utter the friendly morning greeting she had intended.

“Aren’t you feeling well, sir?” she asked with concern.

“No,” Lauterbach croaked, and let himself sink back into his chair. “I think I’m coming down with the flu.”

“Should I cancel your appointments for today?”

“Is there anything important?”

“No. Nothing really urgent. I’ll call Forthuber so he can drive you home.”

“Yes, Ines, please do that.” Lauterbach nodded and coughed a little. She went out. He stared at the e-mail. Snow White. His thoughts were racing. Then he closed the message and blocked the sender with a right-click.

* * *



Barbara Fr?hlich sat at the kitchen table, trying in vain to concentrate on a crossword puzzle. After three days and nights of uncertainty her nerves were shot. On Sunday she had taken the two younger kids to her parents in Hofheim, and Arne went to work on Monday although his boss told him to stay home. But what was he going to do at home?

The days were dragging by at an excruciating pace. Amelie was still missing; there had been no sign of her. Her mother had called three times from Berlin, though probably more out of duty than concern. During the first two days women from the village had dropped by wanting to console and support her, but since she hardly knew these women they had merely sat awkwardly in the kitchen trying to make conversation. Last night she and Arne had had a terrible fight, the very first since they’d met. She had reproached him for his lack of interest in the fate of his eldest daughter, and angrily had even insinuated that he’d probably be glad if she never turned up. Strictly speaking it hadn’t been a fight, because Arne had merely looked at her and said nothing. As usual.

“The police will find her,” was all he said and vanished into the bathroom. She stayed in the kitchen, helpless, speechless, and alone. And all of a sudden she had seen her husband with new eyes. He had gutlessly retreated into his daily routine. Would he act any differently if it had been Tim or Jana who had disappeared? His only concern seemed to be that he might annoy people. They hadn’t said another word, lying silently next to each other in bed. Ten minutes later he was already snoring, calmly and regularly, as if everything was just fine. Never in her life had she felt so abandoned as during that dreadful, endless night.