Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(98)

“Snow White,” Pia said softly next to him. “There you are at last.”

* * *



It was shortly after nine when they arrived back at the station. In front of the door to the watch room three colleagues were dealing with a rampaging drunk whose female companion was equally inebriated and swearing a blue streak. Pia got herself a diet Coke at the vending machine before she went into the conference room on the second floor. Bodenstein was leaning over the table looking at the photos of the paintings that Kathrin had printed out. Ostermann and Kathrin were sitting across from him. He looked up when Pia came in. She could see the furrows of exhaustion on his face, but she knew that he would not allow himself to take a break right now. Not when they were so close to the goal, and especially now that his private troubles could be pushed aside with all this feverish activity.

“Let’s take all three of them at once,” Bodenstein decided, casting a glance at the clock. “We also have to talk to Terlinden. And with Tobias Sartorius.”

“Where is he?” Kathrin asked in surprise.

“I think he’s downstairs, in one of the cells.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Me neither,” said Ostermann.

Bodenstein looked at Pia. She raised her eyebrows.

“You told the boys from the patrol at Sartorius’s place this afternoon that they should bring him here, didn’t you?”

“No. I told them to go to Lauterbach’s,” said Bodenstein. “I thought you would call another patrol.”

“And I thought you’d already done that,” said Pia.

“Ostermann, give Sartorius a call,” Bodenstein ordered. “He needs to come down here right away.”

He grabbed the photos and left the conference room. Pia rolled her eyes and followed him.

“Could I see the pictures before we go in?” she asked him. He handed her the photos without slowing his pace. He was angry because a mistake had escaped his notice. A misunderstanding could always happen when events piled up so rapidly. Nobody was in the interrogation room yet. Bodenstein marched out and came back a moment later.

“Nothing gets done right around here,” he growled in annoyance. Pia didn’t reply. She was thinking of Thies Terlinden, who had watched over the corpse of Stefanie Schneeberger for eleven years. Why had he done that? Did his father order him to do it? Why had Lars Terlinden chosen this moment to write that letter to Tobias and commit suicide? How come Thies’s studio had burned down? Did anyone know about Snow White—or was the arson because of Thies’s paintings? If so, the same person who had sent the phony policewoman to see Barbara Fr?hlich could be behind the fire. And where was Amelie? Thies had shown her the mummy of Snow White and then let her go; otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to write in her diary. What had she told Tobias? Why did she disappear? Did her disappearance have nothing at all to do with the old case?

A thousand thoughts were streaming through her brain, but she couldn’t bring any order to this information overload. Bodenstein was on the phone again, this time apparently with Commissioner Engel. He listened with a grim expression on his face and said only “Yes” or “No” occasionally. Pia sighed. The entire case was turning into a nightmare, and that was due less to the work than to the circumstances under which they had to carry out this investigation. She felt Bodenstein’s gaze on her and raised her head.

“When we wrap up this case, she’s going to take drastic measures, she said. No, I mean threatened.” He put his head back and laughed all of a sudden, but without mirth. “Today she got an anonymous phone call.”

“Aha.” Pia didn’t give a hoot about that. She wanted to talk to Claudius Terlinden and find out what he knew. Each bit of additional information that she received was making it harder to think clearly.

“Somebody told her that you and I are having an affair.” Bodenstein ran both hands through his hair. “Allegedly someone saw us together.”

“Well, that’s no big news,” Pia replied dryly. “We do drive around all day together.”

A knock at the door ended their conversation. Tobias Sartorius’s three “friends” were escorted in. They sat down at the table and Pia took a seat too. Bodenstein remained standing and looked at the three men one by one. Why had they been seized with remorse now, after eleven years? He signaled for Pia to state the formal details of the interview that would be recorded. Then he placed the eight photos on the table. Felix Pietsch, Michael Dombrowski, and J?rg Richter looked at the pictures and turned pale.

“Do you recognize these pictures?”

They shook their heads.

“But you recognize what they depict.”

They nodded.

Bodenstein crossed his arms. He seemed relaxed and calm, as he always did. Pia couldn’t help admiring his self-control. Anyone who didn’t know him well would never have guessed what was really going on inside him.

“Can you tell us who and what we’re looking at in the pictures?”

The three men were silent for a moment, then J?rg Richter spoke. He recited the names: Laura, Felix, Michael, Lars, and himself.

“And who is the man in the green T-shirt?” Pia asked. The three hesitated, exchanging brief glances.

“That’s not a man,” said J?rg Richter finally. “That’s Nathalie. Nadia, that is. She used to have really short hair.”