Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The newspaper lay open before him on the desktop. Another girl had disappeared in Altenhain, shortly after the skeleton of Laura Wagner was found. Lars Terlinden was well aware that sitting in his glass office he was highly visible from the trading room and his outer office, so he resisted the impulse to bury his face in his hands. If only he had never returned to Germany! In his greed for more money he had left his high-salary job as a derivatives broker in London and had taken a position in management for a large Swiss bank in Frankfurt. That had caused quite a stir in the banking profession, because he was only twenty-eight years old. But everything led to success for the “German Wunderkind,” as The Wall Street Journal called him—and he was under the illusion that he was the biggest and best. But he’d been jolted back to reality, and from now on he would have to look his past in the eye and acknowledge what he had done out of cowardice.
Lars Terlinden uttered a deep sigh. His only mistake of any lasting consequence had been to secretly follow them home from the fair, driven by the insane need to confess his love to Laura. If only he had let it be! If only he had … He shook his head vehemently, folded up the paper, and tossed it in the wastebasket. It was no use brooding over the past. He needed to put all his attention on the problems confronting him at the moment. There was too much at stake for him to be distracted by all this old stuff. He had a family to think of and loads of financial obligations that he could only meet with great difficulty in these times of economic crisis. The gigantic villa in the Taunus had not been paid off, or the vacation home on Mallorca, and the lease payments for his Ferrari and his wife’s station wagon were due every month. He felt caught in a spiral again, just like back then. And he could feel more and more clearly that this current spiral was hurling him downward at breathtaking speed. To hell with Altenhain!
* * *
For the past three hours Tobias had been sitting in front of the building on Karpfenweg and staring into the water of the harbor basin. He wasn’t bothered by the unpleasant cold or by the skeptical looks of the residents of the building who suspiciously scrutinized his battered face as they passed by. He couldn’t stand being at home anymore, and he couldn’t think of anyone to talk to but Nadia. And he had to talk or he was going to explode. Amelie had disappeared. In Altenhain the police were turning over every rock in a huge search effort, just as they’d done before. And once again, he thought he was innocent, but doubt gnawed at him with sharp little teeth. The damned alcohol! He was never going to touch a drop again. He heard heels clicking behind him. Tobias raised his head and recognized Nadia coming toward him with rapid steps, her cell phone at her ear. All of a sudden he asked himself whether he would even be welcome. Her stylish appearance merely amplified the oppressive feeling of inadequacy that came over him every time he was with her. He felt like a bum in his worn, cheap leather jacket and with his beat-up face. Maybe it would be better to get out of here and never come back.
“Tobi!” Nadia put away her phone and hurried to him with a horrified expression. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”
“Amelie is missing,” he said. “The police have already been to my house.”
With effort he stood up. His legs felt like ice and his back hurt.
“Why?”
He rubbed his hands and blew on them.
“Once a killer of girls, always a killer of girls, you know. Besides, I have no alibi for the time when Amelie disappeared.”
Nadia stared at him. “Let’s go inside.” She pulled out her key and opened the street door. He followed her, walking stiffly.
“Where were you?” he asked as they rode up to the penthouse in the glass elevator. “I’ve been waiting a couple of hours outside.”
“I was in Hamburg. You know that.” She shook her head and laid her hand on his, concerned. “You really ought to get yourself a cell phone.”
He finally remembered that Nadia had flown to Hamburg on Saturday for a film shoot. She helped him out of his jacket and shoved him toward the kitchen.
“Sit down,” she said. “First I’ll make you some coffee to warm up with. My goodness!”
She tossed her coat over the back of a chair. Her cell rang with a polyphonic ringtone, but she ignored it and kept on fiddling with the espresso machine.
“I’m really worried about Amelie,” Tobias said. “I have no idea what she really found out about the old case or who she may have talked to about it. If anything has happened to her, it will be all my fault.”
“You didn’t force her to sniff around in the past,” Nadia replied. She set two cups of coffee on the table, got some milk from the fridge, and sat down facing him. Without makeup, the violet shadows under her eyes made her look exhausted.
“Come on now.” She put her hand on his. “Drink your coffee. And then you’re getting in the bath to thaw out.”
Why didn’t she understand what was going on inside him? He didn’t want to drink any shitty coffee or take a shitty bath! He wanted to hear from her lips that she believed he was innocent, and then get her help to figure out what could have happened to Amelie. Instead she was talking about coffee and warming him up, as if it made any difference.
Nadia’s cell rang again, then a little later, the landline. With a sigh she got up and took the call. Tobias stared into space. Although the detective had obviously not believed him, he was more worried about Amelie than about himself. Nadia came back, stepped behind him, and flung her arms around his neck. She kissed his ear and his unshaven cheek. Tobias had to stop himself from trying to pull free. He was in no mood for affection. Couldn’t she tell? He got goose bumps when she ran her finger along the mark on his throat that the clothesline had left. To make her stop, he grabbed her wrist, shoved his chair back, and pulled her onto his lap.
“On Saturday night I was with J?rg and Felix and a couple of other guys at J?rg’s uncle’s garage,” he whispered urgently. “First we drank some beer, then this Red Bull stuff with vodka in it. That really knocked me for a loop. When I woke up Sunday morning, I had a gigantic hangover and couldn’t remember a thing.”
Her eyes were very close to his, and she gazed at him intently.
“Hmm,” was all she said. He thought he knew what she was thinking.
“You don’t believe me,” he reproached her and shoved her off his lap. “You think that I … killed Amelie, like I did Laura and Stefanie back then! Am I right?”
“No! No, I don’t!” Nadia protested. “Why would you want to hurt Amelie? She wanted to help you.”
“That’s right. She did. I don’t understand it either.” He got up, leaned against the fridge, and ran his hand through his hair. “The fact is, I don’t remember anything between nine thirty in the evening and four o’clock Sunday afternoon. In theory I could have done it, and that’s what the cops think too. Plus, Amelie tried to call me umpteen times. And my father says I was brought home at one thirty in the morning by Dr. Lauterbach. She found me drunk at the bus stop in front of the church.”
“Shit,” said Nadia and sat down.
“You said it.” Tobias relaxed a little, reached for the cigarettes on the table, and lit one for himself. “The cops told me to stay available.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m a suspect, pure and simple.”
“But … but they can’t do that,” Nadia began.
“They can,” Tobias interrupted her. “They’ve done it before. And it cost me ten years of my life.”
He inhaled the smoke of the cigarette, staring past Nadia into the dim gray fog outside. The brief period of good weather was over, and November was showing its most unpleasant side. Heavy rain was pouring down the windowpanes from low-hanging black clouds. The Friedensbrücke spanning the Main river could only be seen as a silhouette.
“There must be somebody who knows the truth,” Tobias ruminated, reaching for his coffee cup.
“What are you talking about?” Nadia asked.
Tobias looked up. It irritated him that she seemed so calm and collected. “About Amelie,” he repeated, noticing that she briefly raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure that she found out something dangerous. Thies must have given her some pictures, but she didn’t tell me what they showed. I think somebody felt threatened by her.”
* * *
The tall gate with the gilded spikes on top in front of the Terlinden estate was closed, and no one opened it even after she rang several times. But the tiny camera with the blinking red light followed every move she made. Pia shrugged, signaling the results of her efforts to her boss, who was still in the car talking on the phone. She had already tried in vain to speak with Claudius Terlinden at his company. He wasn’t in his office because of personal problems, his secretary had informed her with regret.
“Let’s head over to the Sartorius place.” Oliver started the engine and backed up a ways to make a U-turn. “Terlinden isn’t going anywhere.”
They drove past the rear entrance to the Sartorius farm, which was swarming with officers. The search warrant had been approved without difficulty. Kathrin Fachinger had called Pia late last night to let her know. But the real reason for the call was to report on how things had gone with Internal Affairs. The leniency that Behnke had previously enjoyed was now over; even Bodenstein’s attempt at an intervention wouldn’t have changed matters. Since Behnke had not obtained authorization for his second job, he now had to expect disciplinary action, a reprimand in his personal file, and most probably a demotion. In addition, Dr. Engel had bluntly told him to his face that she would have him immediately suspended if he ever behaved inappropriately toward Kathrin Fachinger or threatened her in any way. Pia would never have filed an official complaint against Behnke. Was that a sign of cowardice or of loyalty to others on the force? Quite frankly, she admired her younger female colleague for having the courage to report a male colleague to the supervisory board. All of them had obviously underestimated Kathrin.
The usually deserted parking area in front of the Golden Rooster was now full of police vehicles. On the sidewalk across the street curious onlookers had gathered despite the rain. Six or seven older people who had nothing better to do. Bodenstein and Kirchhoff got out of the car. Using a scrub brush, Hartmut Sartorius was busy removing new graffiti from the fa?ade of the former restaurant. A hopeless undertaking. ATTENTION, it said, HERE LIVES A KILLER OF GIRLS!
“You’re not going to get that off with soap,” Bodenstein told him. The man turned around. There were tears in his eyes. He was a picture of misery with his wet hair and soaked blue smock.
“Why won’t they leave us alone?” he asked in despair. “We were always good neighbors before. Our children played together. And now it’s nothing but hate!”
“Let’s go inside,” Pia suggested. “We’ll send over somebody to remove it.”
Sartorius dropped the scrub brush into the bucket. “Your people are turning everything in the place upside down.” His voice sounded accusatory. “The whole village has started talking again. What do you want with my son?”
“Is he home?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I don’t know where he went. I don’t know anything anymore.”
His gaze wandered past Kirchhoff and Bodenstein. All of a sudden, with a fury that surprised both of them, he grabbed the bucket and ran across the parking lot. Before their eyes he seemed to grow and became for a moment the man he once must have been.
“Get the hell out of here, you damned assholes!” he roared, and tossed the bucketful of hot soap suds across the street at the people who had gathered there. “Piss off, why don’t you? Leave us alone!”
His voice cracked; he was about to attack the rubberneckers when Bodenstein managed to grab his arm. The spurt of angry energy vanished as fast as it had appeared. Sartorius collapsed like a hot-air balloon that has opened its parachute valve and released all the air.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. A shaky smile flitted across his face. “But I should have done that long ago.”
* * *