Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(85)

“Leave your badge and service weapon here,” Bodenstein commanded.

Behnke unfastened his weapon and tossed it and his badge carelessly on the desk.

“All of you can kiss my ass,” he gasped, then squeezed past Bodenstein and left. For a moment there was complete silence.

“What did the interview with Terlinden turn up?” said Bodenstein to Fachinger, as if nothing had happened.

“He owns the Ebony Club in Frankfurt,” she replied. “As well as the Black Horse and the other restaurant that Andreas Jagielski manages.”

“What else?”

“That’s all I could get out of him. But I think that explains a few things.”

“You do? What?”

“Claudius Terlinden wouldn’t have had to support Hartmut Sartorius financially if he hadn’t personally destroyed the man’s livelihood by opening the Black Horse,” Fachinger replied. “In my opinion he is anything but a good Samaritan. First he ruined Sartorius, then he prevented him from losing the property and leaving Altenhain. I bet he has more people in the village under his thumb, like this Jagielski, who he put in charge of his restaurants. It reminds me a little of the mafia: He protects them, and in return they keep their mouths shut.”

Bodenstein looked at his youngest colleague and frowned in thought. Then he nodded.

“Well done,” he said. “Very good.”

* * *



Tobias jumped up from the couch as if electrocuted when the front door opened. Nadia came in. She had a plastic bag in one hand and was trying to get her coat off with the other.

“So?” Tobias helped her off with her coat and hung it in the wardrobe. “Did you find anything?” After waiting tensely for hours he could hardly contain his curiosity.

Nadia went into the kitchen, put the bag on the table, and sat down.

“Not a thing.” Tired, she shook her head, undid her ponytail, and ran her hand through her hair. “I searched the whole damn house. I’m beginning to think that Amelie made up these paintings.”

Tobias stared at her. He was deeply disappointed.

“But that can’t be!” he countered vehemently. “Why would she make up something like that?”

“No idea. Maybe she wanted to make herself seem important,” said Nadia with a shrug. She looked exhausted, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. The whole situation seemed to be making her equally discouraged.

“Let’s eat first,” she said, reaching for the bag. “I brought home some Chinese.”

Although Tobias hadn’t eaten all day, the appetizing aroma coming from the paper boxes didn’t tempt him. How could he think about eating? Amelie hadn’t made up the story with the paintings—she would never do that. She wasn’t the sort of girl who liked to show off. Nadia was totally wrong about that. He looked on silently as she opened one container, separated the chopsticks, and began to eat.

“The police are looking for me,” he said.

“I know that,” she said, her mouth full. “I’m doing everything I can to help you.”

Tobias bit his lip. Damn it, he really couldn’t blame Nadia for anything. But it was making him crazy to be consigned to doing nothing. Most of all he wanted to go out and look for Amelie on his own. But they would arrest him on the spot as soon as he set foot outside the door. There was nothing to do but be patient and trust Nadia.

* * *



Bodenstein parked across the street, turned off the engine, and remained sitting behind the wheel. From here he could watch Cosima through the brightly lit kitchen window busily moving about. He’d had another discussion with Dr. Engel because of Behnke. News of the incident had spread through the whole station like wildfire. Nicola Engel had approved the suspension of Behnke, but now Bodenstein had a serious problem on his hands. Not only Behnke, but Hasse was out too.

On the drive home Oliver had thought over how he should act toward Cosima. Silently pack his things and leave? No, he had to hear the truth from her lips. He felt no anger, only the utterly wretched feeling of boundless disappointment. After hesitating for several minutes, he got out and slowly crossed the rain-wet street. The house that he and Cosima had built together, in which he had lived for twenty happy years, in which he knew every nook and cranny, suddenly appeared foreign to him. Every evening he had been glad to come home. He had looked forward to seeing Cosima and the kids, to playing with the dog and doing the gardening in the summer, but now he dreaded opening the front door. How long had Cosima lain next to him in bed and longed secretly for another man? Someone else who would caress her and kiss her and make love to her? If only he hadn’t seen Cosima together with that guy today. But he had, and now everything inside him was screaming, Why? Since when? How? Where?

He never would have believed that he would be in such a situation. His marriage was good, until … yes, until Sophia had come into the world. After that, Cosima changed. She had always been restless, but her expeditions in foreign lands had satisfied her longing for freedom and adventure so that she could tolerate daily life for the remaining months of the year. He had known that and accepted the traveling she did without complaint, although he’d always hated the long separations. After Sophia was born, hardly two years ago, Cosima had stayed at home. She had never let him sense that she was unhappy. But looking back he recognized the changes. Previously they had never argued, but now they often did. The fights were always over trivial things. They were quick to reproach each other and criticize individual quirks. Oliver stood with his key in his hand at the front door when suddenly and unexpectedly fury flared up inside him. For weeks she had concealed her pregnancy with Sophia from him. She had decided all by herself to have the child and present him with the fait accompli. In this instance she had to realize that having a baby with their gypsy lifestyle was out of the question, at least for a while.