When the evidence techs had finished searching the house, Hartmut Sartorius closed the rear entrance of the former restaurant and led Kirchhoff and Bodenstein into the big, rustically furnished dining hall, in which everything looked like it had simply been shut down for the midday break. There were chairs on the tables, not a speck of dust on the floor, and menus bound in fake leather were stacked neatly next to the cash register. The bar had been polished to a high gloss, the draft beer dispenser gleamed, and the bar stools were neatly lined up. Pia looked around and shivered. Time seemed to have stood still inside this place.
“I’m here every day,” said Sartorius. “My parents and grandparents ran both the farm and the Golden Rooster. I just can’t bring myself to change anything.”
He brought the chairs from a round table near the bar and motioned Bodenstein and Kirchhoff to take a seat.
“Would you like something to drink? Maybe a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, that would be nice,” Bodenstein said with a smile. Sartorius busied himself behind the bar, taking cups from the cupboard, putting coffee beans in the machine. Familiar movements he’d done a thousand times, which gave him a sense of security. As he worked he kept up a lively account of the old days, when he did the butchering and cooking, and pressed his own cider.
“People used to come here from Frankfurt,” he said with unmistakable pride in his voice. “Just to have our cider. And you wouldn’t believe how many people would show up! Upstairs, in the big hall, there were parties every week. Earlier, when my parents were alive, there were movies and boxing matches and God knows what all. People back then didn’t have cars and didn’t go to a different town to eat.”
Bodenstein and Kirchhoff exchanged a silent glance. Here, in his domain, Hartmut Sartorius was again the owner who had the welfare of his guests at heart, and who was incensed by the graffiti on the fa?ade. He was no longer the stooped, humiliated shadow he had become due to circumstances. Only now did Pia comprehend the full scope of the loss that this man had suffered, and she felt a deep sympathy. She had wanted to ask him why he never moved away from Altenhain after those terrible events, but now this question seemed superfluous. Hartmut Sartorius was so solidly rooted in this village where his family had lived for generations, as solidly as the chestnut tree standing outside.
“You cleaned out the farmyard,” Bodenstein began the conversation. “That must have taken a lot of work.”
“Tobias did that. He wants me to sell everything. Actually he’s right, because we’ll never be able to make a go of it here. But the problem is, the property no longer belongs to me.”
“Who does it belong to?”
“We had to borrow a lot of money to pay Tobias’s legal bills,” Sartorius volunteered. “It was more than we could handle, especially since we had already gone into debt to put a new kitchen in the restaurant and pay for the tractor and other things. For three years I was still able to pay my bills, but then … people stopped coming. I had to close the place. If it hadn’t been for Claudius, we’d be out on the street today.”
“Claudius Terlinden?” Pia asked, pulling out her notebook. Suddenly she understood what Andrea Wagner had meant the other day when she said that she didn’t want to wind up like Sartorius. She would rather get a job than be dependent on Claudius Terlinden.
“Yes. Claudius was the only one who stood by us. He got us the lawyer and later he regularly visited Tobias in prison.”
“Aha.”
“The Terlinden family has lived in Altenhain as long as our family has. Claudius’s great-grandfather was the blacksmith in the village until he came up with an invention, which he used to set up a metalworking shop. Claudius’s grandfather expanded the family business and built that villa over by the woods,” Sartorius told them. “The Terlindens have always been socially minded. They’ve done a great deal for the village, and for their employees and families. They don’t have to keep doing that, but Claudius is always ready to listen. He’s willing to help anyone who’s in a jam. Without his support the organizations in the village wouldn’t have a chance. A couple of years ago he gave the volunteer fire department a new fire engine; he’s on the board of the local athletic club and sponsored the first- and second-string soccer teams. Yes, they can even thank him for the artificial turf.”
Lost in thought, Sartorius stared into space for a moment, but Bodenstein and Kirchhoff took care not to interrupt. After a pause Sartorius continued.
“Claudius even offered Tobias a job with his firm. Just until he finds something else. Lars was Tobias’s best friend. He used to come in and out of the house like a second son, and Tobias also felt completely at home at the Terlindens’.”
“Lars,” Pia said. “He’s mentally handicapped, isn’t he?”
“Oh no, not Lars.” Sartorius shook his head emphatically. “You’re thinking of Thies, the other brother. And he isn’t mentally handicapped. He’s autistic.”
Oliver, who had been extensively briefed on the old case by Pia, said, “If I remember correctly, at the time there was some suspicion directed at Claudius Terlinden as well. Didn’t your son tell you that Terlinden had something going on with Laura? If that’s the case, Tobias is probably not his favorite person.”
“I don’t think there was anything between Claudius and the girl,” Sartorius said after thinking it over. “Laura was pretty and a little wild. Her mother was the housekeeper at the Terlinden villa, so Laura went there often. She told Tobias that Claudius was pursuing her, probably to make him jealous. It hurt her feelings that he’d broken up with her. But Tobias was head over heels in love with Stefanie, so Laura no longer had a chance. Hmm, she was also of a whole different caliber, that Stefanie. Already a mature young woman, very beautiful and very self-assured.”
“Snow White,” said Pia.
“Yes, that’s what they called her after she got the part.”
“What part?”
“Oh, in a school play. The other girls were very jealous. After all, Stefanie was the new girl here, but she still got the coveted lead role in the drama club play.”
“But Laura and Stefanie were friends, weren’t they?” Pia asked.
“The two of them and Nathalie were all in the same class. They got along well and belonged to the same clique.” Sartorius was clearly thinking back to more peaceful times.
“Who was in that clique?”
“Laura, Nathalie, and the boys: Tobias, J?rg, Felix, Michael—I can’t remember the rest. When Stefanie came to Altenhain, she was quickly accepted into the group.”
“And Tobias broke up with Laura because of her.”
“Yes.”
“But then Stefanie broke up with him. Why did she do that?”
“I don’t know the exact reason,” Sartorius said with a shrug. “Who knows what goes on among the young people? Supposedly she’d fallen for her teacher.”
“For Gregor Lauterbach?”
“Yes.” His expression darkened. “They turned that into a motive at the trial. Tobias was supposed to be jealous of the teacher so he … killed Stefanie. But that’s utter nonsense.”
“So who got the lead role after Stefanie couldn’t play the part?”
“If I remember rightly, it was Nathalie.”
Pia shot Oliver a glance.
“Nathalie—who is now Nadia,” she said. “She always remained loyal to your son. Even to this day. Why?”
“The Ungers are our next-door neighbors,” said Sartorius. “Nathalie was like a little sister to Tobias. Later she was his best friend. She was … a pal. Rather tomboyish but not bitchy at all. She was game for anything. Tobias and his friends always treated her like a boy because she did everything with them. When they were even younger, she rode a moped, climbed trees, and joined in their fights.”
“To get back to Claudius Terlinden,” Bodenstein began, but at that moment Behnke marched in, followed by two more officers. They came through the restaurant’s back door, which was ajar. That morning Bodenstein had entrusted Behnke with leading the search of the house. He took up position in front of the table, his colleagues like two aides-de-camp on either side.
“We found something interesting in your son’s room, Mr. Sartorius.”
Kirchhoff noticed the triumphant gleam in Behnke’s eyes, the arrogant twitch at the corners of his mouth. He enjoyed displaying the superiority he felt in situations like this, based on his authority as a police officer. A shabby character trait that Pia deeply resented.
As if touched by a magic wand, Sartorius again seemed to cave in.
“This,” Behnke announced without taking his eyes off Sartorius, “was in the seat pocket of a pair of jeans in your son’s room.” He flared his nostrils, sure of victory. “Does this belong to your son? Hmm? I don’t think so. There are initials on the back written in indelible ink. Take a look.”
Bodenstein loudly cleared his throat and reached out his hand, gesturing to Behnke to hand over the item. Pia could have kissed her boss for that. She had to stop herself from breaking into a grin. Without a word Oliver had put Behnke in his place—and he did it in front of his colleagues from the evidence team. Behnke’s furious gnashing of teeth was almost audible as he reluctantly handed his boss the plastic bag with his discovery.
“Thank you,” said Bodenstein without even looking at him. “You can all continue your work outside.”
Behnke’s lean face first turned pale, then red with anger at this rebuke. Woe to the poor devil who now crossed his path and made a mistake. He glanced at Kirchhoff, but she succeeded in maintaining a completely disinterested expression. Meanwhile, Bodenstein examined the find in the plastic bag and frowned.
“This seems to be a cell phone belonging to Amelie Fr?hlich,” he said gravely, after Behnke and the other two officers had gone. “How could it have wound up in your son’s pants pocket?”
Hartmut Sartorius had turned pale, and he shook his head in bewilderment.
“I … I have no idea,” he whispered. “I really don’t.”
* * *
Nadia’s cell rang and vibrated, but she merely cast a quick glance at the display and put it down.
“Go ahead and take it.” The melody was gradually getting on Tobias’s nerves. “They aren’t going to let up.”
She grabbed the phone and took the call. “Hello, Hartmut,” she said, looking at Tobias, who straightened up involuntarily. What did his father want with Nadia?
“Oh?… Aha … Yes, I understand.” She listened without taking her eyes off Tobias. “No … I’m sorry. He isn’t here … No, I don’t know where he could be. I just got back from Hamburg myself … Yes, of course. If he calls me I’ll tell him.”
She hung up. For a moment it was quite still.
“You lied,” Tobias said. “How come?”
Nadia didn’t answer at once. She lowered her eyes and sighed. When she looked up she was struggling with tears.
“The police just searched your house,” she said tensely. “They want to talk to you.”
A search of the house? Why was that? Tobias got up abruptly. He couldn’t possibly leave his father alone in this situation. He had long ago reached the limit of what he could tolerate.
“Please, Tobi,” Nadia begged. “Don’t go there. I … I … won’t let them arrest you again.”
“Who says they want to arrest me?” Tobias replied in astonishment. “They probably just have a few more questions.”
“No!” She jumped up and the chair crashed to the granite floor. Her expression was desperate, and tears were pouring from her eyes.
“What’s the matter?”
She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He stroked her back and held her close.
“They found Amelie’s cell phone in the pocket of your jeans.” Her voice sounded muffled against his neck. Tobias was speechless. Anxious now, he pulled away. There must be some mistake. How could Amelie’s cell end up in his jeans?
“Don’t go,” Nadia begged him. “Let’s go somewhere, somewhere far away, until all this is cleared up.”
Tobias stared mutely into space. With an effort he tried to get his feeling of confusion under control. He clenched and unclenched his fists. What the hell had happened during the hours when he had blacked out?
“They’re going to arrest you,” said Nadia again, though now sounding more controlled. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You know they will. And then you won’t have a chance.”
She was right, he knew that. Events were repeating themselves in a downright eerie way. Eleven years ago it was Laura’s necklace that was found in the milk room and used as circumstantial evidence to prove his guilt. He felt panic prickling at his spine, and he sank down onto a kitchen chair. No doubt he was the ideal perpetrator. Based on the fact that Amelie’s cell phone was found in his pants pocket they would tie a noose and put it around his neck as soon as he turned himself in. Suddenly the old wound burst open again; like poisonous pus the self-doubt crept through his veins, his body, through every convolution of his brain. Murderer, murderer, murderer! They had said it to him for so long, until he became convinced he had really done it. He looked at Nadia.
“Okay,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I won’t go there. But … what if I really did do it?”
* * *