Snow White Must Die (21 page)

The early morning fog had lifted and given way to a dry, sunny day—a breath of late summer in the middle of November. Altenhain seemed deserted. Pia saw only a young woman walking two dogs, and an old man standing in the driveway of his farm, his arms resting on the low gate as he talked with an older woman. She drove past the Black Horse, its parking lot still empty, and the church, then followed the sharp right-hand curve and had to brake because a fat gray cat was crossing the narrow road at a dignified pace. In front of Hartmut Sartorius’s former restaurant stood a silver Porsche Cayenne with Frankfurt plates. Pia parked next to it and entered the property through the wide-open gate. All the piles of rubbish and junk were gone, and even the rats seemed to have moved on to greener pastures. She went up the three steps to the front door of the residence and rang the bell. Hartmut Sartorius came to the door. Behind him stood a blond woman. Pia could hardly believe her eyes when she recognized Nadia von Bredow, the actress. Her face was well known all over Germany because of her popular role as Detective Inspector Stein from
Scene of the Crime,
set in Hamburg. What was she doing here?

“I’ll track him down,” she was saying to Hartmut Sartorius, who seemed more careworn than ever next to this tall, elegant figure. “Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

She barely glanced at Pia and walked past her without saying hello or even nodding. Pia watched her go, then turned to Tobias’s father.

“Nathalie is the daughter of our neighbor,” he explained before she asked, because he probably noticed the amazement in Pia’s face. “She and Tobias played together in the sandbox as kids, and she kept in touch with him through his whole prison term. The only person who did.”

“Aha.’ Pia nodded. Even a famous actress had to grow up somewhere, so why not in Altenhain?

“What can I do for you?”

“Is your son here?”

“No. He went for a walk. But please come in.”

Pia followed him through the house into the kitchen, which like the grounds now looked considerably cleaner than on her last visit. Why did people always take the police into their kitchen?

*   *   *

Deep in thought, Amelie walked along the edge of the woods, hands in her jacket pockets. The heavy rain the night before had been followed by a calm, mild day. Thin veils of mist hovered over the orchards; the sun found its way through the gray clouds, making the fall colors of the forest glow. On the branches of the deciduous trees the last leaves shone red, yellow, and brown. She noticed the scent of acorns and damp earth, of a fire that someone had lit in one of the meadows. Amelie, child of the big city, inhaled the fresh, clear air deep into her lungs. She felt more alive than she could remember, and she had to admit that life in the country definitely had its pleasant sides. Below in the valley lay the village. How peaceful it looked from a distance. A car crawled like a red ladybug along the street and vanished in the maze of tightly packed houses. On the wooden bench by the old crossroads sat a man. As Amelie approached she recognized to her amazement that it was Tobias.

“Hey,” she said, stopping in front of him. He raised his head. Her astonishment then turned to horror when she saw his face. Dark purple bruises covered the whole left side of his face, one eye was swollen shut, and his nose had grown to the size of a potato. A cut on his eyebrow had been taped shut.

“Hey,” he replied. They looked at each other for a moment. His beautiful blue eyes were glassy and he was in a lot of pain, that was obvious. “They ambushed me. Last night, in the barn.”

“Oh great.” Amelie sat down beside him. For a while neither of them said a word.

“You really ought to go to the cops,” she said hesitantly, not entirely convinced. He snorted in derision.

“Not on your life. Do you happen to have a cigarette?”

Amelie dug in her backpack and came up with a crumpled cigarette pack and a lighter. She lit two cigarettes and handed him one.

“Last night Jenny Jagielski’s brother showed up pretty late with his pal, fat Felix, at the Black Horse. They sat around in a corner with two other guys and were laughing about something,” Amelie said without looking at Tobias. “And at the usual game of poker at the regulars’ table, old Pietsch was missing, along with Richter from the store, and Traugott Dombrowski. They didn’t show up until quarter to ten.”

“Hmm,” Tobias said, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“Maybe it was some of them.”

“Probably so,” said Tobias indifferently.

“Yeah, but … if you know who might have done it…” Amelie turned her head and met his gaze. She looked away quickly. It was much easier to talk to him if she didn’t look him in the eye.

“So why are you on my side?” he asked suddenly. “I did ten years in the slammer because I killed two girls.”

His voice didn’t sound bitter, only tired and resigned.

“I did three weeks in juvie because I lied for a friend and claimed that the dope the cops found was mine,” said Amelie.

“What are you trying to say?”

“That I don’t believe you killed those two girls.”

“Nice of you.” Tobias bent over and his face contorted. “I have to remind you that there was a trial with a pile of evidence that all pointed to me.”

“I know.” Amelie shrugged. She took another drag on her cigarette, then flicked the butt into the meadow on the other side of the gravel road. She had to tell him about those paintings. But how to begin? She decided on a roundabout way.

“Did the Lauterbachs live here back then?” she asked.

“Yes,” Tobias said in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s a picture,” said Amelie. “Actually several of them. I’ve seen them, and I think Lauterbach is in three of them.”

Tobias gave her a look that was both interested and puzzled.

“So, I think there’s somebody who witnessed what really happened back then,” Amelie added after a brief pause. “Thies gave me pictures that…”

She fell silent. A car was coming up the narrow road at high speed, a silver station wagon. The gravel crunched under the wide tires when the Porsche Cayenne stopped right in front of them. A beautiful blonde climbed out. Amelie jumped up and shouldered her backpack.

“Wait!” Tobias stretched out his arm to her imploringly and stood up with a pained expression. “What kind of pictures? What’s going on with Thies? Nadia is my best friend. You can tell her too.”

“No, I’d rather not.” Amelie gave the woman a skeptical look. She was very slim and made an elegant impression with her tight jeans, the turtleneck sweater, and the beige down vest with the prominent logo of an expensive designer label. Her smooth blond hair was pulled back in a knot, and she had a concerned look on her elegantly proportioned face.

“Hello!” the woman called, coming closer. She scrutinized Amelie briefly, giving her a suspicious look, then turned her undivided attention to Tobias.

“Oh my God, sweetheart!” She put her hand softly on his cheek. At the sight of this intimate gesture Amelie felt a pang in her heart, and she took an immediate dislike to Nadia.

“I’ll see you later,” she said curtly and left them to each other.

*   *   *

For the second time today Pia had taken a seat at a kitchen table and politely turned down a cup of coffee. Then she had informed Hartmut Sartorius about Manfred Wagner’s confession and arrest.

“How’s your ex-wife doing?” she asked.

“Her condition is unchanged,” said Sartorius. “The doctors just give me the runaround and refuse to say anything definite.”

Pia studied the gaunt, exhausted face of Tobias’s father. The man hadn’t suffered any less than the Wagners—on the contrary. While the parents of the victim were shown sympathy and solidarity, the parents of the perpetrator had been ostracized and punished for the actions of their son. The silence turned uncomfortable. Pia didn’t really know why she’d come. What was she actually looking for here?

“So are people pretty much leaving you and your son alone?” she asked at last. Hartmut Sartorius emitted a curt, bitter laugh. He opened a drawer and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, which he handed to Pia.

“This was in the mailbox today. Tobias threw it out, but I retrieved it from the garbage can.”

You murdering bastards,
Pia read.
Get out of here before another accident happens.

“A threatening letter,” she said. “Anonymous?”

“Of course.” Sartorius shrugged and sat back down at the table. “Yesterday they attacked him in the barn and beat him up.” His voice faltered and he had to fight for control as tears shone in his eyes.

“Who?” Pia wanted to know.

“All of them.” Sartorius made a helpless gesture. “They were wearing masks and had baseball bats. When I … when I found Tobias in the barn … I thought at first he was … he was dead.”

He bit his lip and lowered his eyes.

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“It wouldn’t do any good. This is never going to stop.” The man shook his head with a mixture of resignation and despair. “Tobias is doing his best to get the farm back in shape and hopes we can find a buyer.”

“Mr. Sartorius.” Pia was still holding the letter. “I’ve read all the documents in your son’s case. And I noticed some inconsistencies. Actually it amazes me that Tobias’s lawyer didn’t file an appeal.”

“He wanted to, but the court refused to consider any appeal. The circumstantial evidence, the eyewitnesses—there was no room for any doubt.” Sartorius rubbed his hand over his face. Everything about him radiated discouragement.

“But now Laura’s remains have been found,” Pia insisted. “And I’ve been asking myself how your son could possibly have gotten the dead girl out of the house and into the trunk of his car, taken her to Eschborn to the restricted site of a former military airfield and thrown her into an old underground tank, and then driven back here, all in under forty-five minutes.”

Sartorius raised his head and looked at her. A tiny spark of hope gleamed in his watery blue eyes, but it vanished just as quickly.

“It won’t do any good. There’s no new evidence. And even if there was, to the people here he’s a murderer and that’s what he’ll always be.”

“Maybe your son should leave Altenhain for a while,” Pia suggested. “At least until after the girl is buried, when feelings here have died down a bit.”

“Where is he supposed to go? We don’t have any money. Tobias won’t be able to find a job any time soon. Who’s going to hire an ex-con, even if he has a diploma?”

“He could move into his mother’s apartment temporarily,” Pia suggested, but Sartorius only shook his head.

“Tobias is thirty years old,” he said. “I know you mean well, but I can’t order him to do anything.”

*   *   *

“I just had a déjà-vu moment when I saw the two of you sitting on the bench.” Nadia shook her head. Tobias had sat back down and was cautiously feeling his nose. The memory of his fear of death from last night had settled like a dark shadow over the sunny day. When the men finally stopped beating him and disappeared, he had silently said good-bye to life. If one of them hadn’t come back to take the rag out of his mouth he would have suffocated. They had really been serious about it. Tobias shuddered at the thought of how close to death he had come. The injuries he had suffered were painful and looked dramatic, sure, but they weren’t life-threatening. His father had called Dr. Lauterbach last night and she came over at once to patch him up. She had taped closed the cut on his eyebrow and left some painkillers for him. She didn’t seem to hold it against him that he had dragged her husband into the whole mess in 1997.

“Don’t you think so?” Nadia’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

“What did you say?” he asked. She was so beautiful and looked so anxious. She was actually expected on the set in Hamburg, but apparently he was more important. After he called she must have left at once. That was the sign of a true friend.

“I was just saying how strange it is for that girl to look so much like Stefanie. Unbelievable!” said Nadia and took his hand. She caressed the balls of his thumbs, a tender touch that under other circumstances might have pleased him. But right now it didn’t.

“Yes, Amelie really is incredible,” he replied thoughtfully. “Incredibly brave and fearless.”

He thought about how she had recovered so quickly from the attack in the barnyard. Any other girl would have dissolved in tears and run home or to the police, but not Amelie. What was it she’d wanted to tell him? What had Thies said to her?

“Do you like her?” Nadia wanted to know. If he hadn’t been so deep in his thoughts, he might have some other, more diplomatic response.

“Yes,” he said. “I like her. She’s so … different.”

“Different from whom? Me?”

Then Tobias looked up. He met her scandalized gaze and wanted to smile, but the smile turned into a grimace.

“Different from the people here, I meant.” He squeezed her hand. “Amelie is only seventeen. She’s like a little sister.”

“All right, then be careful that you don’t turn little sister’s head with those blue eyes of yours.” Nadia pulled her hand away and crossed her legs. She looked at him with her head cocked. “I don’t think you have the slightest idea what sort of effect you have on women, do you?”

Her words reminded him of his younger days. How come he’d never noticed that Nadia’s critical remarks about other girls had always hidden a spark of jealousy?

“Aw, come on now,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “Amelie works at the Black Horse and overheard something there. For one thing, she recognized Manfred Wagner in the photo the police made public. He was the one who shoved my mother off the bridge.”

“What?”

“Yes, he did. And she also thinks that Pietsch, Richter, and Dombrowski were the ones who beat me up last night. They showed up unusually late for their card game.”

Nadia stared at him incredulously. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Amelie is also firmly convinced that somebody saw something back then that might exonerate me. Just as you drove up she was about to tell me something about Thies, about Lauterbach, and about some pictures.”