Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(92)

“That’s not true at all!” Pia interrupted him. “I’m the one who began having doubts. Tobias Sartorius has absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“What’s the name of your friend who asked you to do this dubious favor?” Oliver asked. Hasse hemmed and hawed a little.

“Gregor Lauterbach,” he finally admitted, hanging his head.

* * *



The Black Horse was jam-packed. The whole village had gathered there after the funeral. But over their coffee and sandwiches, people were talking less about Laura Wagner and more about the fire at the Terlinden place. Everyone was airing conjecture and speculation. Michael Dombrowski was the captain of the volunteer fire department and had led the operation. On the way back to the firehouse he had gotten off at the Black Horse, and the smell of smoke and fire still clung to his clothes and hair.

“The police think it was arson,” he told his friends Felix Pietsch and J?rg Richter as he joined them at a small table in the corner. “I have to ask myself why anyone would set fire to a garden hut.” Only now did he notice the oppressive mood of his pals. “What’s the matter with you guys?”

“We have to find Tobi,” said J?rg. “And end this whole thing once and for all.”

Felix nodded in agreement.

“What do you mean?” asked Michael, baffled.

“Don’t you see that it’s starting all over again? Just like before.” J?rg Richter put his half-eaten cheese sandwich back on the plate and shook his head in disgust. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Me neither,” Felix agreed with his friend. “We really have no choice about this.”

“Are you sure?” Michael looked uncomfortably from one to the other. “You know what that means. For every one of us.”

Felix and J?rg nodded. They were aware of the consequences of their plan.

“What does Nadia say?”

“We can’t take that into consideration anymore,” said J?rg, taking a deep breath. “We can’t wait any longer. Otherwise there might be another tragedy.”

“Better an end with terror than a terror without end,” Felix added in agreement.

“Shit.” Michael rubbed his face. “I can’t do it! I … I mean … it was all so long ago. Can’t we just let it be?”

J?rg stared at him. Then he shook his head.

“No, we can’t. Nadia just told me at the cemetery that Tobi is at home. I’m going over there and put an end to this.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Felix.

Michael still hesitated, desperately searching for a way to stay out of it. “I have to go check the fire site,” he finally said.

“You can do that later,” said J?rg. “This won’t take long. Come on, let’s go.”

* * *



Daniela Lauterbach had crossed her arms, staring at her husband with a mixture of disbelief and contempt. When she came home, he’d been sitting at the kitchen table, gray in the face and looking years older. Even before she could take off her jacket he had started talking—about anonymous threatening letters, about e-mails and photos. The words spilled out of him like a waterfall, bitter, desperate, full of self-pity and fear. Silently and with growing bewilderment she had listened to him without interrupting. His last plea had left her speechless. For a while there was complete silence in the big kitchen.

“What do you expect from me now?” she asked him coolly. “God knows I helped you more than enough back then.”

“I wish you hadn’t,” he replied dully. At these words rage overcame her, a hot, wild rage that had slumbered deep inside her all these years. What hadn’t she done for him? This spineless weakling, this phony who couldn’t do anything but act like a big shot and make beautiful speeches. As soon as he was in a tight spot, he came crawling to her, whimpering and clinging to her apron strings. She used to like it when he listened to her advice and asked for help whenever he was at his wits’ end. He had been her obedient sorcerer’s apprentice, her fountain of youth, her masterpiece. When they first met more than twenty years ago, she had instantly seen the talent in twenty-one-year-old Gregor. Back then she was already a successful physician, twenty years older than he was and well-situated thanks to a respectable inheritance. At first she had regarded him only as a diversion in bed, but then she decided to finance the education of the working-class boy, and turned him on to the worlds of art, culture, and politics. Through her contacts she got him a job as a high-school teacher and paved his way into politics. The position of cultural minister was the culmination of her efforts. But eleven years ago, after what happened, she’d wanted to throw him out. He wasn’t worth it. An ungrateful weakling who still didn’t appreciate all her work and investments even today.

“If you’d listened to me back then and buried the tire iron in the woods instead of grabbing it with your bare hands and throwing it in Sartorius’s cesspool, nothing would have happened,” she said. “But you wanted to be clever. And because of you Tobias went to prison. Because of you, not because of me!”

He flinched at her onslaught of words as if she’d lashed him with a whip. “I made a mistake, Dani! I was under so much pressure, my God!”

“You f*cked an underage schoolgirl,” she reminded him in an icy voice. “And now you come here in all seriousness and demand that I get rid of an eyewitness, who happens to be a patient of mine and the son of our neighbor! What kind of person are you, anyway?”