Snow White Must Die (55 page)

“I fell in love with Daniela when my brother brought her to the house for the first time,” he said. “It was a Sunday, the fourteenth of June, 1976. It was love at first sight. But a year later she married my brother, even though they weren’t at all suitable for each other. They were absolutely miserable together. Daniela was very successful in her career, and she overshadowed my brother. He started hitting her more and more often, even in front of the servants. In the summer of 1977 she suffered a miscarriage, a year later another one, and then a third. My brother wanted an heir; he was furious and blamed her. When my wife had twin sons, that was the last straw.”

Pia listened in silence, careful not to interrupt.

“Eventually Daniela might have asked for a divorce, but a couple of years later my brother was diagnosed with cancer. Terminal. So she no longer wanted to leave him. He died in May 1985.”

“How convenient for the two of you,” Pia remarked sarcastically. “But that doesn’t explain why you wanted to help her escape. This is the woman who kidnapped Amelie and Thies and locked them in a cellar. If we hadn’t found them they would have drowned, because Lauterbach flooded the cellar.”

“What are you talking about?” Claudius Terlinden looked up in annoyance.

Suddenly it dawned on Pia that Terlinden really might not know what Daniela Lauterbach had done. Earlier in the day he had come to the hospital to visit his son, but the tragic death of Hartmut Sartorius may have postponed any further conversation. Besides, Thies probably wouldn’t have wanted to tell his father what happened. So Pia now told Claudius Terlinden in detail about Daniela Lauterbach’s devious attempt to murder Amelie and Thies.

“That can’t be true,” he kept whispering in growing bewilderment.

“Yes, it is. Daniela Lauterbach wanted to kill Thies because he was an eyewitness when her husband murdered Stefanie Schneeberger. And Amelie had to die because she had figured out the secret that Thies had kept all these years.”

“My God.” Terlinden buried his face in his hands.

“It seems to me that you didn’t know the love of your life very well if you actually wanted to flee with her.” Pia shook her head.

Terlinden was now staring into space.

“What an idiot I am. Everything is my fault! I was the one who offered that house to Albert Schneeberger.”

“What does Schneeberger have to do with it?”

“Stefanie totally turned Thies’s head. He was crazy about her, and then he happened to see how she and Gregor … well … you know. He had a fit of rage and attacked Gregor, and we had to put him in the psychiatric ward. A week before the girls died, he came back home. He was acting rationally again. The medications had worked wonders on him. And then Thies saw Gregor kill Stefanie.”

Pia caught her breath.

“Gregor wanted to run away, but suddenly Thies stood in front of him. The boy was just standing there, staring at him, not saying a word, as usual. Gregor ran home in a panic, howling like a baby.” Terlinden’s voice took on a scornful tone. “Daniela called me and we met at Sartorius’s barn. Thies was sitting next to the dead girl. At that moment it seemed best to hide the body somewhere, so I thought of the old bunker underneath the orangerie. But we couldn’t get Thies to leave. He refused to let go of Stefanie’s hand. Then Daniela had the idea of telling him that he should take care of Stefanie. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it worked. For eleven years. Until Amelie showed up. That nosy little twit ruined everything.”

He and Daniela Lauterbach had known the truth about Laura and Stefanie all these years and never said a word. How could they have lived with such a terrible secret? Pia wondered.

“So who did you think kidnapped the girl and your son?” she asked.

“Nadia,” Claudius Terlinden replied dully. “On the night that Gregor killed Stefanie, I saw her in the barn, but I never told anyone.”

He sighed heavily.

“Later I had a talk with her about it,” he went on. “She was quite reasonable, and when I offered to use my contacts to get her into television, she promised me never to breathe a word about what happened that night. She left Altenhain as she had always planned to do, and made a marvelous career for herself. After that, order was restored. Everything was fine.” He rubbed his eyes. “Nothing would have happened if everyone had played by the rules.”

“People aren’t chess pieces,” Pia replied sharply.

“Yes they are,” Terlinden contradicted her. “Most people are happy to have somebody else take on the responsibility for their puny lives and make the decisions that they’re unable to make. Somebody has to keep an eye on the big picture and pull the strings if necessary. And that someone is me.” A smile appeared on his face, revealing a trace of pride.

“Wrong,” said Pia soberly. She now understood all the connections in the story. “It wasn’t you, but Daniela Lauterbach. You were only a pawn in her game, and she pushed you here and there at will.”

Terlinden’s smile vanished.

“You’d better hope that my boss catches her at the airport. Otherwise you’re the only one who’ll get the big headlines and you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.”

*   *   *

“Unbelievable.” Ostermann shook his head and looked at Pia. “If I understand things correctly, it means that Tobias’s mother legally owns half of Altenhain.”

“Precisely.” Pia nodded. Before them on the table lay the three-page last will and testament of Wilhelm Julius Terlinden, signed and notarized on April 25, 1985, in which he disinherited his wife Daniela Terlinden, née Kroner, and his brother Claudius Paul Terlinden. Amelie had handed the document in a thick envelope to an officer before she got into the ambulance that would take Tobias Sartorius to the hospital. The young man had been very lucky. The gun Daniela Lauterbach had used to shoot him hadn’t caused a fatal wound because of its low penetration power. Still, Tobias had lost a lot of blood, and even after the emergency operation he was not entirely out of danger.

“I don’t really understand completely why Wilhelm Terlinden’s will was in Hartmut Sartorius’s possession,” said Pia. “It was drafted only a couple of weeks before he died.”

“That’s probably when Wilhelm first learned that the two had been cheating on him for years.”

“Hmm.” Pia did her best to suppress a yawn. She had lost all sense of time and was dead tired, yet in high spirits. Tobias and his family had been the victims of evil intrigues and the greedy lust for money and power. But thanks to the will that Hartmut Sartorius had kept in his safe, Tobias and his mother could look forward to a relatively happy ending, at least financially.

“Go on, get out of here,” Ostermann told Pia. “The paperwork can wait till tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t Hartmut Sartorius ever make this will public?” asked Pia.

“He was probably afraid of the consequences, or maybe he had skeletons of his own in the closet. Somehow he’d gotten hold of this will—most likely not in a legal manner,” Ostermann replied. “Besides, in a village like that, other laws apply. I know all about it.”

“What do you mean?”

Ostermann grinned and stood up.

“Don’t tell me you want to hear my life story now, at three thirty in the morning.”

“Three thirty? My God…” Pia yawned and stretched. “Did you know that Frank’s wife left him? Or that Hasse was friends with the cultural minister?”

“Yes to the first one, no to the second,” said Ostermann, turning off his computer. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Pia shrugged. “But we seem to spend more time with our colleagues than with our partners, and yet we know nothing about each other. Why is that?”

Her cell rang with the special ringtone reserved for Christoph. He was waiting for her down in the parking lot. Pia got up with a groan and reached for her purse.

“I’m really having a tough time with this.”

“Now, don’t go getting all philosophical,” Ostermann said from the doorway. “Tomorrow I’ll tell you everything about me that you need to know.”

Pia gave him a weary grin.

“Everything? Really?”

“Sure.” Ostermann switched off the light. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

*   *   *

On the short ride from Hofheim to Unterliederbach, Pia’s eyes closed from exhaustion. She didn’t notice when Christoph got out to open the gate. When he shook her shoulder gently and kissed her cheek, she opened her eyes in confusion.

“You want me to carry you inside?” Christoph offered.

“Not a good idea.” Pia yawned and grinned. “Then I’d have to drag the feed sacks myself all next week because you gave yourself a hernia.”

She got out and staggered to the front door. The dogs greeted her with happy barking, demanding to be petted. After she hung up her jacket and pulled off her boots, she suddenly remembered the appointment with the zoning office.

“What actually happened at the meeting today?” she asked Christoph. He turned on the light in the kitchen.

“Nothing good, I’m afraid,” he answered seriously. “Neither the house nor the barn were approved when they were built. And it’s next to impossible to obtain retroactive approval because of the overhead power lines.”

“But that can’t be!” Pia felt like the rug was being pulled out from under her feet. This was her house, her home! Where was she supposed to go with all these animals? She stared at Christoph, shocked. “Now what? What happens now?”

He came over to her and took her in his arms.

“The demolition order still stands. We can file an appeal that will delay it for a while, but unfortunately not forever. And there’s also another little problem.”

“Oh, please no,” Pia murmured, close to tears. “What else?”

“Actually the state of Hessen has the right of first refusal for the property, because at one time an autobahn exit was supposed to be built here,” Christoph told her.

“Oh great. Then I’m going to be dispossessed.” Pia wriggled out of his arms and sat down on the kitchen table. One of the dogs nudged her with his nose, and she patted his head absentmindedly. “All that money I paid goes down the drain.”

“No, no, listen to me.” Christoph sat down facing her and took her hand. “There’s actually some very good news too. You paid three euros per square meter. The state will pay you five.”

Pia looked up in disbelief.

“Who told you that?”

“Well, I happen to know a lot of people. And today I made a lot of phone calls.” He smiled. “And I learned something interesting.”

Then Pia had to smile too.

“If I know you, you’ve already found us a new farm,” she said.

“You do know me well, I’ll admit,” Christoph said, amused, but then turned serious. “The thing is, the vet who used to take care of our animals at the zoo wants to sell his former horse clinic in the Taunus. I went out to see the place a while back, because we were looking for someplace to house new animals under quarantine. The farm isn’t suited for that, but … for you and me and for your animals it would be a dream. I picked up the key today. If you want, we can drive out and see it tomorrow. What do you think?”

Pia looked into his brown eyes. Suddenly she felt overcome by a deep, warm surge of happiness. It didn’t matter what happened. Even if they had to tear down the house and leave Birkenhof. Because she wasn’t alone. Christoph would always stand by her, the way Henning had never done. He would never leave her in the lurch.

“Thank you,” she said quietly and reached out her hand to him. “Thank you, my darling. You’re simply incredible.”

He took her hand and held it against his rough cheek.

“I’m only doing all this because I want to move in with you,” he said with a smile. “I hope you realize that you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Tears welled up in Pia’s eyes.

“As if I’d ever want to,” she whispered, smiling too.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

It was a little after five in the morning when Bodenstein left the hospital. He felt deeply moved by the sight of Amelie patiently keeping watch by Tobias Sartorius’s bed until he woke up from the anesthesia. He put up the collar of his coat and made his way to the service vehicle. At the last second he had managed to arrest Daniela Lauterbach. She wasn’t on the plane going to South America, but on the one headed for Australia. Bodenstein walked around the hospital building, lost in thought. The fresh snow creaked under his shoes. It occurred to him that almost three weeks had passed since the day the skeleton of Laura Wagner had been found at the Eschborn airfield. Previously in his career he had viewed every case from the sober perspective of an outsider who was getting a look inside the lives of complete strangers, but this time he felt like he’d been personally involved in events. Something in his attitude had changed, and he knew that he would never again feel the way he had before.

He stopped when he reached the car. He felt as though on the slow, calm river of life he’d suddenly gone crashing over a waterfall and was now sailing on stormy waters in a whole new direction. This image was alarming and yet exciting at the same time.

Bodenstein got into the car, started the engine, and waited until the windshield wipers had shoved the snow aside. Yesterday he had promised Cosima to drop by for breakfast and talk over everything in peace and quiet, if his work permitted. He was astounded to realize that he no longer harbored any anger toward her and felt fully able to discuss the whole situation objectively. He drove out of the parking lot and took the Limesspange expressway toward Kelkheim. His cell phone, which hadn’t worked inside the hospital, beeped. He took it out of his pocket and pressed the message symbol. A callback from 3:21
A.M.
with a cell number he didn’t recognize. He pressed the number on the display at once.

“Hello?” said a sleepy female voice he didn’t recognize.

“Bodenstein,” he said. “Please excuse me for bothering you so early, but I had a callback number on my cell and thought it was urgent.”

“Oh … hello,” said the woman. “I went with my sister to see Thies at the hospital and got home really late. But I wanted to thank you.”