by Nele Neuhaus
“What happened?” Kirchhoff asked one of the uniformed officers after she introduced herself. She was watching her boss out of the corner of her eye.
“Apparently he swerved to avoid an animal,” replied the officer. “The car is totaled, but he doesn’t seem to be hurt. At least he doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“I’ll take care of him. Thanks a lot.”
She turned around. The tow truck moved off, but Bodenstein didn’t even raise his head.
“Hey.” Pia stopped in front of him. What should she say to him? He certainly wouldn’t want to go home—wherever that might be these days. Apart from that, now was not the time to be absent from the investigation. Bodenstein heaved a deep sigh. There was a forlorn expression on his face.
“She’s going with him on a trip around the world, right after Christmas,” he said tonelessly. “Her work is more important than me or the kids. She already signed the contract in September.”
Pia hesitated. A dumb cliché like It’ll turn out all right or Chin up would be out of place here. She felt really sorry for him, but there was no time to waste. Nadia von Bredow was waiting at the station, along with every available officer in the Regional Criminal Unit.
“Come on, Oliver.” Although she would have liked to grab him by the arm and drag him into the car, she forced herself to be patient. “We can’t stay here sitting on the side of the road.”
Bodenstein closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
“Twenty-six years I’ve been dealing with murderers and killers,” he said in a hoarse voice. “But I could never really imagine what would drive a person to kill someone else. This morning I understood for the first time. I believe I would have strangled her in the parking lot if my father and brother hadn’t intervened.”
He hugged himself as if he were freezing, and looked at Pia with bloodshot eyes. “In my whole life I’ve never felt so shitty.”
* * *
The conference room could barely hold all the officers that Ostermann had ordered to come in to the Regional Criminal Unit. After his accident Bodenstein didn’t seem in any shape to take over the lead of the team, so Pia took the floor. She asked for quiet, outlined the situation, enumerated the facts, and reminded her colleagues of their highest priority, which was to find Amelie Fröhlich and Thies Terlinden. Since Behnke wasn’t there nobody questioned Pia’s authority, and everyone listened attentively. Pia’s gaze fell on Bodenstein, who was leaning against the wall in the back of the room next to Commissioner Engel. She had gotten him coffee at the gas station and added a little bottle of cognac. He drank it without protest, and now he seemed to be doing somewhat better. But he was obviously still in shock.
“The prime suspects are Gregor Lauterbach, Claudius Terlinden, and Nadia von Bredow,” Pia now said, stepping over to the screen on which Ostermann had projected a map of Altenhain and vicinity. “These three people have the most to lose if the truth comes out about what really happened in Altenhain in 1997. Terlinden and Lauterbach came from this direction last Saturday evening.” She pointed to the Feldstrasse. “Before that they were in Idstein, but we’ve already searched that house. We’re concentrating now on the Black Horse. The owner and his wife are in cahoots with Terlinden, so it’s entirely possible that they did him a favor. Possibly Amelie didn’t leave the restaurant at all. In addition, every resident around the parking lot has been questioned again. Kai, do you have the arrest warrants?”
Ostermann nodded.
“Good. Jörg Richter, Felix Pietsch, and Michael Dombrowski will be brought here; Kathrin will handle that, along with several colleagues from the patrol units. Two two-man teams will question Claudius Terlinden and Gregor Lauterbach simultaneously. We also have arrest warrants for both of them.”
“Who’s going to take on Lauterbach and Terlinden?” asked one of the officers.
“Detective Superintendent Bodenstein and Commissioner Engel will take Lauterbach,” Pia replied. “I’ll go see Terlinden.”
“With whom?”
Good question. Behnke and Hasse weren’t around any longer. Pia looked at the colleagues sitting before her, then made a decision.
“Sven will go with me.”
The officer from SB-21 who had been selected opened his eyes wide in surprise and pointed at himself. Pia nodded.
“Any more questions?”
There were none. The meeting adjourned with the hubbub of voices and scraping chairs. Pia jostled her way over to Bodenstein and Nicola Engel.
“Was that okay, that I included you?” she asked Engel.
“Yes, of course.” The commissioner nodded and then took Pia aside.
“Why did you pick DI Jansen?”
“Spontaneous inspiration.” Pia shrugged. “I’ve often heard the boss say how pleased he is with Sven’s work.”
Nicola Engel nodded. Her inscrutable expression might have made Pia doubt her decision under other circumstances, but there was no time for that now. DI Sven Jansen came over to join them. As they all made their way downstairs, Pia quickly explained what she expected to achieve from the simultaneous questioning of the two suspects and how she intended to proceed. In the parking lot they separated. Bodenstein held Pia back for a moment.
“Well done,” he said. “And—thank you.”
* * *
Bodenstein and Nicola Engel waited quietly in the car until Pia’s call came in, saying that she and Jansen were standing at Terlinden’s front door. Then they got out and rang the Lauterbachs’ doorbell at the same second Pia rang the Terlindens’ bell. It took a moment before Gregor Lauterbach opened the door. He was wearing a terrycloth bathrobe, and on the chest was the logo of an international hotel chain.
“What do you want?” he asked, studying them with swollen eyes. “I’ve already told you everything.”
“We like to ask questions multiple times,” Bodenstein replied politely. “Isn’t your wife at home?”
“No. She’s at a conference in Munich. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.”
Nicola Engel was still holding her cell phone to her ear and now nodded to Bodenstein. Pia and Sven Jansen were standing in the foyer of Terlinden’s villa. As they had all agreed, Bodenstein now asked the cultural minister the first question.
“Mr. Lauterbach,” he began. “We’re still interested in the evening when you and your neighbor waited for Amelie in the parking lot of the Black Horse.”
Lauterbach nodded uncertainly. His eyes shifted to Nicola Engel. It seemed to bother him that she was on the phone.
“You saw Nadia von Bredow.”
Lauterbach nodded again.
“Are you quite sure?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How did you recognize Ms. von Bredow?”
“I … I don’t know. I just recognized her.”
He swallowed nervously as Engel now handed her cell to Bodenstein. Bodenstein scanned the text message that Jansen had written. Claudius Terlinden claimed—unlike Lauterbach—that on the Saturday evening in question he hadn’t seen any specific person in the parking lot of the Black Horse. Several people had entered the restaurant, and others came out. In addition, he had seen someone sitting on the bus stop bench but didn’t recognize who it was.
“I see.” Bodenstein took a deep breath. “You and Mr. Terlinden perhaps should have correlated your stories better. Unlike you, Mr. Terlinden says he didn’t recognize anyone.”
Lauterbach turned a deep red. He stammered for a bit, insisting he had seen Nadia von Bredow, and he would even swear to it.
“She was in Hamburg that evening,” Bodenstein cut him off. Gregor Lauterbach had something to do with the disappearance of Amelie. He was almost positive of that now. But at the same moment doubts popped up in his mind. What if Nadia von Bredow was lying? Had the two of them perhaps joined forces to get rid of the potential threat? Or was Claudius Terlinden lying? Thoughts whirled around in Bodenstein’s head, and suddenly he
was filled with the shattering certainty that he’d overlooked something extremely important. He met Engel’s eyes as she gave him a quizzical look. What the hell was it he wanted to say? As if she sensed his hesitation, the commissioner took over.
“You’re lying, Mr. Lauterbach,” she said coolly. “Why? How did you decide that it was Nadia von Bredow who was supposedly in the parking lot?”
“Without my lawyer present I won’t answer any more questions.” Lauterbach’s nerves were frazzled, and he alternated between turning red and going pale.
“That is your right.” Dr. Engel nodded. “Call a car to take him to Hofheim. We’re taking you with us to the station.”
“You can’t just arrest me like this,” Lauterbach protested. “I have immunity.”
Bodenstein’s cell rang. It was Kathrin Fachinger. She sounded like she was on the verge of hysteria.
“… don’t know what to do! He suddenly had a gun in his hand and he shot himself in the head! Shit, shit, shit! Everyone here is going crazy!”
“Kathrin, just stay calm.” Bodenstein turned away as Dr. Engel presented Lauterbach with the arrest warrant. “Where are you now?”
In the background he could hear yelling and all sorts of commotion.
“We were going to arrest Jörg Richter.” Fachinger’s voice was shaking. She was totally out of her depth in this situation, which was obviously escalating. “Went to his parents’ house, showed him the arrest warrant. And all of a sudden the father went to a drawer, took out a pistol, held it to his head and pulled the trigger! And now the mother has the pistol in her hand and is trying to prevent us from taking her son! What should I do now?”
The panic in the voice of his youngest colleague yanked Bodenstein out of his own confusion. Suddenly his brain started working again.
“Don’t do a thing, Kathrin,” he said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
* * *
The main road through Altenhain was blocked. In front of the Richters’ store stood two ambulances with lights flashing, and several patrol cars were parked nearby. Onlookers crowded up to the crime scene tape. Bodenstein found Kathrin Fachinger in the yard. She was sitting on the back steps, white in the face and unable to move. He briefly put his hand on her shoulder and made sure that she wasn’t wounded. Inside the house there was utter chaos. An emergency doctor and EMTs were looking after Lutz Richter, who lay in a pool of blood on the tile floor in the hall. Another medic was taking care of his wife.
“What happened?” Bodenstein asked. “Where’s the weapon?”
“Here.” A patrol officer handed him a plastic bag. “A gun that fires blanks. The husband is still alive, but the wife is in shock.”
“Where is Jörg Richter?”
“On the way to Hofheim.”
Bodenstein looked around. Through the etched glass of a closed door he could vaguely make out the orange and white of the EMTs’ uniforms. He opened the door and froze for a moment at the sight of the living room. It was stuffed full almost to the ceiling; on the walls hung hunting trophies and all sorts of militaria—sabers, antique rifles, helmets, and other weapons—piled on the sideboard, in the open cupboard, on the coffee table, several end tables, and on the floor were pewterware, cider pitchers, and so much junk that it briefly took his breath away. In one of the plush easy chairs Margot Richter was sitting with a stunned look on her face, an IV in her arm. Next to her stood a female EMT holding the drip bag.
“Is she lucid?” Bodenstein wanted to know. The medic nodded.
“Mrs. Richter.” Bodenstein squatted down in front of the woman, which wasn’t easy in the middle of all that junk. “What happened here? Why did your husband do that?”
“You can’t arrest my boy,” Mrs. Richter murmured. All energy and malice seemed to have drained from her body, and her eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. “He didn’t do anything.”
“Then who did?”
“My husband is the guilty one.” Her gaze wandered here and there, briefly brushing Bodenstein and then moving off into space. “Jörg wanted to pull the girl back out, but my husband said he should leave her there, it would be better that way. Then he went and dragged a plate over the tank and shoveled dirt on top of it.”
“Why did he do that?”
“So that we’d have peace again. Laura would have ruined the boys’ lives, when nothing really happened. It was all just in fun.”
Bodenstein couldn’t believe his ears.
“That little slut wanted to turn in her friends, go to the police. So it was all her own fault. She’d been teasing the boys the whole evening.” With no transition she switched from the past to the present day. “Everything was fine, but then Jörg just had to tell somebody what happened back then! What an idiot!”
“At least your son has a conscience,” Bodenstein retorted coolly, getting up. Any sympathy he may have had for the woman had been extinguished. “Absolutely nothing was fine—on the contrary! What your son did was no trivial offense. Rape and accessory to murder are capital crimes.”
“Bah!” Margot Richter made a scornful gesture and shook her head. “Nobody was talking about that old story anymore,” she said bitterly. “And then they got scared because Tobias showed up again. Nothing would have come of it if they’d only kept their traps shut, those … those weaklings!”
* * *
Nadia von Bredow merely nodded indifferently when Pia told her that her alibi for that Saturday evening had been checked and verified.
“Very good.” She cast a glance at her watch. “So I can go now.”
“No, not yet.” Pia shook her head. “We still have a few more questions.”
“All right then, shoot.” Nadia looked at Pia with her big bored eyes, as if trying to suppress a yawn. She didn’t seem in the least nervous, and Pia couldn’t shake the impression that she was playing a role. What was the real Nathalie like, hidden behind the beautiful, flawless façade of the fictional character Nadia von Bredow? Did she still exist?
“Why did you tell Jörg Richter to ask Tobias over that evening and to make sure that he stayed as long as possible?”
“I was worried about Tobi,” Nadia replied smoothly. “He didn’t seem to take the attack on him in the barn seriously. I wanted to know that he was safe.”
“Really?” Pia opened the file and searched until she found what Ostermann had deciphered from Amelie’s diary. “Do you want to hear what Amelie wrote about you in her last diary entry?”
“I suppose you’re going to read it to me anyway.” Nadia rolled her eyes and crossed her long legs.
“That’s right.” Pia smiled. “‘I found it comical the way this blondie has been falling all over Tobias. And the way she looked at me! Sheer jealousy, as if she wanted to eat me alive. Thies totally panicked when I mentioned the name Nadia to him. There’s something not quite right about her…’”
Pia looked up.
“You didn’t like it that Amelie was so familiar with Tobias,” she said. “You used Jörg Richter to watch him and then saw to it that Amelie disappeared.”
“Nonsense!” The indifferent smile had vanished from Nadia’s face. Her eyes suddenly sparked with anger. Pia recalled Jörg Richter’s comment that even as a young girl Nadia had been able to terrify other people. He’d called her ruthless.
“You were jealous.” Pia remembered what Amelie’s diary said. “Maybe Tobias told you that Amelie visited him now and then. I think you were afraid that something was brewing between Tobias and Amelie. To be honest, Ms. von Bredow, Amelie looks a lot like Stefanie Schneeberger. And Stefanie was the love of his life.”
Nadia von Bredow leaned forward a little.
“What do you know about true love?” she whispered in a dramatically lowered voice and wide-open eyes, as if she’d received a director’s instructions. “I’ve loved Tobias ever since we were kids. Ten long years I waited for him. He needed my help and my love to get back on his feet after being in prison.”
“Then you’r
e probably fooling yourself. Your love obviously isn’t reciprocated,” Pia jabbed, and saw with satisfaction that her words had hit home. “Especially if you couldn’t even trust him for twenty-four hours.”
Nadia von Bredow pressed her lips together. Her beautiful face contorted for a fraction of a second.
“The relationship that Tobias and I have is none of your business!” she replied vehemently. “What’s the point of this shitty questioning about Saturday night? I wasn’t there, and I don’t know where the girl is. Period.”
“So where is your great love then?” Pia kept needling her.
“No idea.” Blazing green eyes looked into hers without blinking. “I do love him, but I’m not his nursemaid. So, may I go now?”
Pia was starting to feel disappointed. She couldn’t prove that Nadia von Bredow had anything to do with Amelie’s disappearance.
“You posed as a police officer and went to see Mrs. Fröhlich,” Bodenstein said from the background. “That’s called unauthorized assumption of authority. You stole the paintings that Thies gave to Amelie. And later you set fire to the orangerie to make sure that there would be no more pictures.”
Nadia von Bredow didn’t look around at Bodenstein.
“I admit that I did use the police badge and a wig from the prop department to find the paintings in Amelie’s room. But I did not set the fire.”
“What did you do with the pictures?”
“I cut them into little pieces and fed them through the shredder.”
“Makes sense. Because the pictures would have exposed you as a murderer.” Pia took the photocopies of the paintings out of the file and placed them on the table.
“Quite the opposite, actually.” Nadia von Bredow leaned back with a cold smile. “The pictures prove my innocence. Thies is really an amazing observer. Unlike you detectives.”
