Not Her

by Noah Fitz

  “Okay. I better go. My flight leaves in five hours.”

  “May I give you the first letter now?”

  “Sure.” He smiled sadly.

  Pia opened the book, but the letter was no longer there. Suddenly, she heard resounding laughter.

  “See you, Pia,” Immanuel said. “You can give it to me later. Or send it to me.”

  “I’ll become a moose!” yelled Dixon. He and the rest of the clique stood in the middle of the yard.

  “I’ll answer you,” Immanuel said. “But remember your promise. Goodbye, Pia.”

  She was no longer listening to him. She jumped off the bench and ran toward the small group. The laughter became even louder. Dixon waved his arm. A yellow sheet of paper fluttered in his hand. Her letter.

  “You wrote a letter to the old sack?” His face distorted into a grimace. “Are you a pervert or something?”

  “Pull yourself together! She’s my sister,” said Peer.

  So Pia’s brother had also read the letter. She turned red.

  The sun slowly sank behind the houses. The angular rooflines stood out sharply against the red sky. The evening dawned; it was still warm, but Pia shivered all over as if she were freezing. “Give me that, Dixon. It belongs to me. Peer, do something.”

  Her brother pushed Dixon with his elbow. “Don’t screw around, Dixon.”

  “What? I don’t like the guy.”

  “We always stick together, no matter what happens,” Sarah said.

  Pia felt compelled to remind her brother with a mute look that blood was thicker than water.

  “Do what you want. I’m going home.” Peer avoided her eyes and stomped away.

  “Are you no longer a virgin? I saw you kissing your crush,” Dixon said, making smacking, kissing noises.

  “What’s going on here?”

  All fell silent.

  Dixon’s hand disappeared hastily behind his back.

  “What is that?”

  “Papa! We’re… we’re just playing.” Pia knew she didn’t sound very convincing. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “What’re you playing?” Her father looked at Dixon with a look of encouragement. “Let me see.”

  “Mr. Holm, this is nothing. It’s only a—”

  “It’s just a game,” Pia said. “We play truth or dare.” She swallowed her anger and put on a happy smile.

  “You have ten minutes left,” her father said. “Mom sent me to make sure you’d be on time for dinner.”

  Pia started a diversionary maneuver. “What do you have there?” she asked and pointed to the object in his hand.

  “A soldering iron. I borrowed it from Mr. Lind.”

  “I see.” Pia pressed her lips together because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. To her relief, her father stroked her hair tenderly and continued on his way.

  “Okay.” Dixon had another big grin on his face. Blatant malice flashed in his eyes. “You gave me an idea, though. You wrote this letter for Immanuel.”

  “No,” Pia said. She felt a sting, as if she had betrayed herself. Too quickly, she thought. “The letter is for… you.” She promptly turned red as a light.

  The hand that held the letter tensed and crumpled it up. “How stupid are you?” Dixon said.

  The collective laughter of his friends only made him even more furious.

  “It’s a lie!” repeated Dixon and threw the yellow ball of paper into the bushes.

  Out of nowhere, Olaf appeared. “Of course it’s a lie,” he said. He was drunk again, or on drugs, maybe both. His eyes were glassy, his features limp. He smelled of manure and something Pia could not describe. “I saved you. And I got this in return.” He circled his hand around his left eye, which was still swollen. “And this.” Swaying, he pulled his left pant leg up. Everyone stared at the dirty bandage. Leaves and small twigs had caught in the frayed end of the dirty gauze bandage, which hung loosely and dragged across the ground. Olaf lost his balance but caught himself again. “I was hiding behind the shelves, watching you two lovebirds.” He exposed two rows of yellow teeth. Stupidly grinning, he waggled his finger at Pia.

  ***

  “Shut the fuck up!” Peer said. He had come back to give Olaf a hard blow to the narrow shoulders.

  With an umph the junkie fell backwards and landed hard on his butt.

  “You’ll regret that, you good-for-nothing bastards!” he shouted. “I’ll kill you all, one by one! And you’ll be first, you bitch!” It was not until the third attempt that he managed to stand on his feet. Olaf sniffed and spat a slippery lump of snot at Peer’s feet. “Your sister’s a whore! You’ll see.”

  “Who yanked out your tooth?” Dixon said. “I can’t stand you.”

  “I did it myself. You can watch it on YouTube. And look here!” Olaf took off his right shoe. His foot was bare. All that was left of the sock was the blue-and-yellow-striped elastic band. Bloody welts shone between dirty toes. “That was me, too.” He laughed proudly. “After that I spent four weeks with the fucking psychos. But the food there is… all denty.” Theatrically he brought his fingertips to his chapped lips and gave them a big old wet smooch, like some an Italian chef hopped up on coke.

  “You mean al dente?” Dixon laughed. “That’s only for noodles, you moron.”

  That seemed to remind Olaf. “You can all kiss my ass!” he said. Then he pointed at Pia. “I’ll fuck you first!” With crazy laughter he spun around and ran through the thicket towards the road.

  “Lunatic.” Dixon tapped himself on the nose. “Of course, everything can stay between us,” he said after a moment’s reflection. Once again, evil sparkled in his dark eyes.

  “Olaf’s sick in the head… He was just making that up,” said Peer.

  “We can go to Immanuel… or we can go to the police,” Dixon returned mockingly.

  “Don’t do that!” Pia said.

  “Then we can play a game.” Enno stood in the light. “What do you think, Yara?”

  Yara looked up from her cell phone and strolled languidly toward the others. “Whatever. Today’s boring anyway.”

  “But we have to go home.” Peer made another attempt to protect his sister.

  “Oh, yes, to Mommy and Daddy,” Sarah said. She pinched Peer’s cheek.

  “Hands off,” he said.

  Sarah’s mouth distorted into a broad grin. “What’s that in your hand?” She grabbed him by the wrist.

  “Vodka.” Peer looked at his sister questioningly.

  Pia just shrugged. “It’s mine,” she said defiantly and reached for it, but Sarah got there first.

  “Cool. Let’s get drunk. Pia goes first.” She tore the bottle from Peer’s hand and pressed it against Pia’s chest.

  “No, Pia, don’t do it!”

  Sarah stood very close to Peer and rubbed lasciviously against him. Loudly smacking her lips, she pressed her knee between his legs. “One kick in the balls and you’ll cry like a girl,” she said, whispering into his ear.

  Peer winced. “Okay. Fine. But we really have to get home when our dad comes back from the garage. I want him to help me on the computer later.”

  Sarah kissed Peer on the mouth and pushed him roughly away.

  Everyone laughed. Only Pia didn’t. She took a big sip of vodka and shuddered. “Is that it? Can I go now?”

  Dixon took the bottle and drank. “It tastes like crap,” he said. “Why don’t you take your booze and fuck off, if you’re such a pussy?”

  Pia stuck out her chin. “What do you want from me?”

  Peer lowered his head in shame and screwed the bottle shut. The crumpled letter lay beside his feet. He picked it up inconspicuously and put it in his pants pocket.

  “We want to play your game,” Sarah said. “Truth or dare.”

  “Why?” Pia said. Her voice trembled.

  “If you pass the test, what Olaf said will remain between us.”

  “And we’ll take y
ou into our group,” Yara announced.

  Margret was back, huffing and puffing like she had just run a marathon. She smelled of fried potatoes and cigarette smoke. “Bernd will be here soon. He has to dry the dishes.”

  “And if I don’t go along with it?” Pia asked.

  “Then we’ll put this video on the internet.” Yara held her cell phone in the air. “I recorded everything.” She smiled, but she might as well have spit in Pia’s face.

  Pia withstood her gaze. “Dare,” she said. “And afterwards you delete the video. And I want to see you do it!” She raised her index finger threateningly.

  “Maybe…”

  “If not, I’ll tell everyone what you did.” That was Peer.

  “I’ll delete the video,” Yara agreed. “It was only a cigarette.” She gave Peer a poisonous look.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Enno said and hugged his girlfriend. They kissed passionately. Yara gave a soft moan, which was only an act, of course. Like everything she did.

  “Yuck,” said Bernd, pushing himself between them. “I didn’t rush all the way here just to watch you two tongue-wrestle. What’s up?”

  “Pia has to face a task right away,” Yara said. “And we’ll film her doing it.” She licked the tip of her tongue over her canine tooth. A diamond shone there.

  “Awesome. What does she have to do?” Bernd punched Dixon on the shoulder. “Come on, man. You always have such cool ideas in store. Should she take her clothes off or something?”

  “I’m definitely not doing that.” Pia’s chin trembled.

  “You can stand in the street for five seconds…” Dixon said, but hesitantly, not quite knowing what to do with Pia.

  “And she has to take her clothes off, or something.” Bernd clucked, looking for applause.

  “Forget it, you pervert. I’m leaving.” Pia ran to the bank, grabbed her book, and headed for the entrance of the yellow house where they lived.

  “Stay there!” Dixon called after her. “All you have to do is stand in the street and count to five. There’s nothing to it.”

  Pia turned around again. “Fine,” she said.

  “But you have to at least cover your eyes,” Yara said. “Otherwise it’s not exciting.” The left corner of her mouth lifted mockingly, and her darkly painted eyes seemed to laugh at Pia.

  “Pia, come on, we have to go home,” Peer said. “Dad’s coming.”

  Bernd pointed his finger at Peer. “Loser!” He formed a large backwards L with his left thumb and forefinger and held it in front of his forehead, fidgeting around as if he desperately needed to go pee.

  “That’s the wrong hand, you idiot,” said Peer.

  “Let’s just do it. I’m not in the mood for this kiddy shit.” Pia ran to the narrow path leading to the traffic light. The others followed her.

  A crackling tension gripped the clique. Everyone was excited.

  Enno took command. “We wait until the traffic light turns red,” he said.

  “This is dumb. There’s hardly any cars,” Yara said. “And it’s much too dark. I only see blurry pictures on my cell phone. Look here.”

  “You have to get closer to the side of the road,” Margret said. The two girls ran a few meters away from the traffic light and stood with their backs to the direction of travel.

  “You see?” rejoiced Margret.

  “Pia! Peer! Where are you?” The voice of her father resounded behind them.

  “Peer, take this book and wait for Dad. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Shit,” Peer said. He took the book, stuffed the vodka bottle into his waistband, and begged his sister with a silent look to let it go and follow him.

  “Go. Stop him.” Dixon pushed Peer in the direction of their father.

  “It’s red,” Yara said in a squeaky voice. “Red! Red! Red!” She waved her arms in excitement and hopped around like a bouncing ball.

  Pia took a deep breath, exhaled, and ran into the street.

  “Your eyes!” Yara yelled. “You have to close your eyes!” She pointed the camera phone at Pia.

  “Where’s your sister?!”

  “She’ll be right out,” Peer told his father. “We’re playing hide-and-seek, and it’s my turn to look.”

  Suddenly someone shouted: “Here comes a car!”

  “Pia, look out! Pia!”

  A frightened scream.

  A dull thud.

  Then an engine roared, tires squealed, and a car raced away.

  Chapter 41

  Berlin | Police Headquarters

  Marc crossed his fingers and watched his counterpart. In the meantime, the suspect’s lawyer had taken a seat in the left corner and made notes. His dark blond hair stood out in all directions. The glasses with the small round lenses hung on the narrow tip of his nose.

  Marc looked at Peer in a challenging way. “That’s exactly how it happened?”

  “If memory serves.”

  “You’re very eloquent.”

  “I read a lot, even if it doesn’t show.”

  “So you decided to punish everyone for Pia’s death?”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “No.”

  “Yara…”

  “She jumped off the bridge!” For the first time Peer became animated.

  Marc remained calm. “Yes, a bridge which you sabotaged with a cutting disk.”

  “She had a choice,” Peer said.

  “Just as Pia had a choice. We found a shoe print that matches your jogging shoes. You spend a lot of time keeping fit. You even made it to the brown belt.”

  “Did that give me away?” Peer asked.

  “It’s not the only thing.”

  “What else?”

  “Your computer skills.”

  Silence.

  “We used a special selection process in which more and more suspects fell through the grid.”

  “Through the grid?” echoed Peer. He clung to the edge of the table with both hands.

  “We all used to play in the sandbox. First you take a sieve with big holes and you shake it. Leaves and branches get stuck in it. Basically everything that’s not sand. Then you take a more closely meshed one. And so you continue until only the finest sand is left.”

  “And what got caught in your colander?” Peer bit his lower lip and bent over the table in suspense.

  “A switch,” said Marc.

  Chapter 42

  Two weeks ago | Marktheide | October Street

  Tine stood before the heavy metal door. A cloud of steam rose from her mouth. She breathed some warmth into her hands.

  “You, Pride, stay in the background. Okay?” Marc looked at her emotionlessly.

  “Why am I even here?”

  “The presence of a woman acts as an aphrodisiac for us men. We sometimes behave like pubescent boys without brains. The prettier the woman, the more inexplicable the behavior. Also, even without the prospect of success, courtship begins. Completely unconsciously.”

  “I guess that’s why you wanted me to bring Olaf the coffee?”

  “You learn fast.” Marc smiled. “Would he have told us—or you—about the broken switch otherwise? He’s been a loser all his life, and then you show up with coffee and cake. And you look pretty nice, too.”

  Tine rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. “And what effect do I have on you?” she asked.

  “Like a daughter who still has much to learn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How many men did you suspect?”

  Tine made a nasty remark. But Marc was right.

  “Your emotional state can have an extremely negative effect on objectivity. You must learn to make decisions with your head and not with your heart. Use not just one sieve, but several.”

  “I know, I know, I’m supposed to act rationally, not emotionally. But what’re we doing here?”

  “They’re coming,
” whispered Marc. “No one’s immune to their feelings, so I want to show you something.”

  Three men, followed by two policemen, approached them.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Marc said. “May I introduce my colleague, Tine Stolz? She’ll be supporting us today.”

  “Lind.” The elderly gentleman wore only blue overalls even now, despite the early morning cold. His gray beard was trimmed short, his hair wildly tousled. His handshake was firm, the palm dry and rough. Nevertheless, his hand trembled. Too much alcohol, too many cigarettes, Tine thought and smiled politely at him. “Tine.”

  “Immanuel Kräuser,” the next man said, introducing himself. He was tall and smelled of aftershave. His wrists were in handcuffs. A wide bandage was stuck to his neck. He had stabbed himself several times in the hospital. Afterward, he tried to get the doctors to subject him to a psychological test. Pleading insanity was a popular scam among criminals, but it was not as easy as most people thought.

  He stretched out his hands to Tine.

  She denied him hers and promptly reaped a censoring look from Marc.

  Kräuser licked his upper lip, shrugged, and took a step toward the door.

  “Peter Holm,” the last man said. He was not wearing handcuffs, but one of the policemen did not leave his side.

  His hand is much too soft and too wet for a man, Tine thought. Inconspicuously she wiped her hand on her duffle coat after the unpleasant handshake.

  “Well, gentlemen.” Marc clapped his hands. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Ms. Stolz and yours truly will go to the workshop and invite you in, one by one. Please stick with the truth, it will be better for you. Ms. Stolz can read faces. I need someone with emotional detachment for this experiment.”

  Tine understood the hint very well.

  “Isn’t she too young and too pretty for all this?” The janitor shoved his hands into his pockets, which had been patched countless times. He rocked gently back and forth on the soles of his shoes. Faced with the nonsense coming out of his mouth, Tine turned up her nose.