Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(89)

“Snow White must die. That’s what they said,” Thies announced all of a sudden. “But nobody can do anything to her anymore. I’m watching out for her.”

* * *



The fog and drizzle kept no one in Altenhain from accompanying the mortal remains of Laura Wagner on her last journey. The parking lot in front of the Black Horse couldn’t hold all the cars. Pia simply parked up the street, climbed out of the car, and walked briskly toward the tolling bells of the church, where Oliver was waiting for her on the covered porch.

“Thies saw everything that happened in 1997,” she blurted out the news. “He did paint pictures, just as Amelie told Tobias. Somebody put pressure on him, telling him that he’d be sent to a home if he ever told anyone what he saw.”

“What did he say about Amelie?” Bodenstein was impatient, a sign that he too had found out something important.

“Nothing. Only that he didn’t do anything to her. But he spoke about Stefanie and even drew a picture.”

Pia fished the folded paper out of her purse and handed it to Oliver.

He glanced at it and frowned, then pointed at the cross. “That’s the tire iron. The murder weapon.”

Pia nodded excitedly. “Who could have threatened him? His father?”

“Maybe. He probably wouldn’t have wanted his own son to get mixed up in such a crime.”

“But Thies didn’t do anything,” Pia countered. “He was only a witness.”

“I’m not talking about Thies,” Oliver shot back. The bell stopped tolling. “This morning I was called to a suicide. A man took his life in a car in the parking lot by the Nepomuk curve. And the man was Thies’s brother, Lars Terlinden.”

“What?” Pia was shocked.

“That’s right.” Oliver nodded. “What if Lars killed Stefanie and his brother saw it?”

“Lars Terlinden went to study in England right after the girls disappeared.” Pia tried to recall the chronology of events in September 1997. The name of Thies’s brother had never come up in the old files.

“Maybe that was how Claudius Terlinden kept his son out of the investigation. And then he threatened his other son so that he would keep his mouth shut,” Oliver proposed.

“But what did Thies mean when he said that nobody could do anything to Snow White anymore because he would take care of her?”

Oliver shrugged. They didn’t seem any closer to resolving the case. In fact it was getting more and more complicated. They walked around the church to the cemetery. The funeral party had gathered under umbrellas, crowding around the open grave. At that moment the white coffin, with a bouquet of white carnations on top, was being lowered. The men from the funeral parlor withdrew, and the pastor began to speak.

Manfred Wagner had obtained a release from custody to attend the funeral for his eldest daughter. With a stony face he stood in the front row beside his wife and two teenagers. The two warders who had accompanied him waited a short distance away. A young woman wearing stiletto heels hurried past Bodenstein and Kirchhoff without looking at them. She had done up her gleaming blond hair in a simple knot, and she wore a tight black suit and big sunglasses despite the gloomy weather.

“Nadia von Bredow,” Pia explained to her boss. “She’s from Altenhain and was a friend of Laura Wagner’s.”

“Ah, yes.” Oliver was lost in thought. “By the way, I just heard from Dr. Engel that she’s worried about Gregor Lauterbach. Cultural minister or not, he rode back home with Terlinden on the Saturday when Amelie disappeared.”

Pia’s cell began to ring. She quickly took it out and hurried around the corner of the church before she attracted any dirty looks.

“Pia, it’s me,” Ostermann said. “You told me the other day that interview transcripts were missing from the old file.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Listen to this. I don’t like telling you this, but it occurred to me that Andreas was pretty interested in those files. He stayed late one evening when I was sick at home, and I…”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a sudden howl from the siren on the roof of the Black Horse. Pia covered her other ear and asked her colleague to talk louder. Three men left the funeral party when the siren sounded and rushed past Pia toward the parking lot.

“… I’m wondering … prescription … but was in our office…” was all she could make out. “… no idea … ask him … is it?”

“Can’t hear you because of the siren.” Pia was straining to hear. “There’s a fire somewhere. Okay, give it to me again. What about Andreas?”

Ostermann repeated what he’d said before. Pia listened in disbelief.

“That would be absolutely amazing,” she said. “Thanks. We’ll see you later.”

She put away her phone and walked back to Bodenstein, lost in thought.

* * *



Tobias Sartorius walked past the barn and into the former cowshed. All of Altenhain was at the cemetery, so nobody would see him, not even his neighbor Paschke, the old block warden. Nadia had dropped him off up the hill at the rear entrance to the farm and then continued on to the cemetery to attend Laura’s funeral. Tobias closed the door of the milk room and went into the house. The feeling that he needed to hide was horrendous. He wasn’t suited to such a life. Just as he was about to go upstairs, his father appeared, silent as a shadow, in the kitchen doorway.