“All right, then.” Corinna sat down across from Emma at the table. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Emma mustered her courage.
“Florian never told me that he had a twin sister. Nobody talks about her.”
The smile vanished from Corinna’s face. She propped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. Emma was afraid she wouldn’t get an answer, because Corinna was quiet for so long. Finally, she took her hands away and gave a big sigh.
“The story of Michaela is very sad and painful for the whole Finkbeiner family,” she said quietly. “Even as a little girl, she suffered from mental illness. Today she could probably be helped, but back in the seventies, child psychology hadn’t advanced very far, and they didn’t know what multiple personality disorder was. They probably just thought she was a stubborn, lying child. That view did her a great injustice, but nobody knew any better.”
“That’s just horrible,” Emma whispered.
“Josef and Renate worried more about Michaela than about the rest of us children,” Corinna went on. “But all the love and care eventually did no good. She ran away from home the first time when she was twelve, and was caught shoplifting. After that she was always getting in trouble with the police. Josef was able to smooth over a lot of it through his connections, but Michaela didn’t appreciate his efforts. She started drinking and using drugs early on, and she refused to listen to any of us. For Florian, it was especially bad.”
All happiness had drained from her eyes, and Emma was sorry she’d brought up a topic that evoked such painful memories for Corinna.
“Why didn’t Florian ever tell me about her?” Emma asked. “I would have understood. There’s a black sheep in every family.”
“You have to understand how terrible it was for him and how much it made him suffer. In the end, it was probably the reason why he left here as soon as he could,” replied Corinna. “He was always living in the shadow of his sister, who got much more attention than he did. No matter how loving, diligent, and talented he was, it was always about Michaela.”
“What happened to her?”
“She dropped out of school when she was fifteen and started turning tricks to finance her drug habit. At some point, she ended up in the underworld. Josef tried everything to get her out, but she wouldn’t accept any help. After a suicide attempt, she spent a few years in a locked psychiatric ward. She never wanted to speak to her parents or to any of us siblings again.”
Emma noticed that Corinna spoke about her stepsister only in the past tense.
“Where is she now? Does anyone know?”
On the stove, the pasta water boiled over with a hiss, and at the same time a car pulled up outside the kitchen window. The engine noise stopped, two car doors slammed, and a lively child’s voice called, “Mama, I’m hungry!”
Corinna didn’t seem to pay any attention. All energy seemed to have drained from her body. She pressed her lips together and looked infinitely sad.
“Michaela died a few years ago,” she said. “Only Ralf, Nicky, Sarah, and I attended her funeral. Since then, no one has ever mentioned her name.”
Emma stared at her friend in shock.
“Believe me, Emma, it’s better that way.” Corinna put her hand on Emma’s briefly, then got up and went to the stove to put the pasta in the pot. “Don’t tear open old wounds. Michaela really brought a lot of trouble down on Josef and Renate.”
Torben, Corinna’s youngest, stormed through the open French door into the dining room, flung his backpack into a corner, and ran into the kitchen without noticing Emma.
“I’m really really hungry,” he announced.
“Wash your hands and take your backpack upstairs. We’re eating in ten minutes.” Corinna stroked his hair absentmindedly, then looked out at the terrace. “Thanks for picking him up, Helmut. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
Only now did Emma notice the caretaker, Helmut Grasser, standing in the doorway. She stood up.
“Hello, Mr. Grasser,” she said.
“Hello, Mrs. Finkbeiner.” He smiled. “How are you doing in this heat?”
“So far so good.” Emma also managed a smile. She’d hoped to be able to talk to Corinna some more about her suspicions regarding Florian and Louisa, but that wouldn’t be possible if Torben and the caretaker were going to join them at the table.
“I guess I’ll be going,” she said, and Corinna made no attempt to stop her. Her expression was somber, her usual exuberance extinguished. She took the lid off the pan with the simmering meat sauce and stirred it. Was Corinna upset with her because she’d asked about Florian’s twin sister?
“Thanks for your candor.” Emma didn’t dare give her friend the usual hug. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you, Emma.” Her smile seemed forced. “Don’t hold it against Florian.”
* * *
Bodenstein had squeezed into the passenger seat of Meike Herzmann’s Mini, because he didn’t trust her not to try and ditch them. Pia got in the unmarked car and followed them into the city. Meanwhile, Kai had applied for an arrest warrant for Bernd Prinzler and a search warrant for his property. Pia still could hardly believe what Meike Herzmann had done. Her cell rang just as she was passing the tower at the fairgrounds, and she answered it.
“Frey here. Hello, Ms. Kirchhoff. I was just informed that you’re making progress in the investigation,” said the head state attorney. Pia was astounded by how good the communication within the Frankfurt state attorney’s office seemed to be.
“Yes, we have the address of a suspect in both the Hanna Herzmann case and the new homicide,” she replied.
“The new homicide?”
Aha. So their grapevine wasn’t that good after all.
Pia explained to him briefly about the torturous death that Leonie Verges had suffered, and she also reported that Prinzler had been seen in the vicinity of her house.
“Bernd Prinzler is a member of the Frankfurt Road Kings,” she said. “We know that he was in contact with Ms. Herzmann, and we found his prints in the house of the deceased Ms. Verges. His vehicle was seen several times by the neighbors in Liederbach. We also found out that Prinzler knows Kilian Rothemund—he’s the man we’re searching for, to charge him with rape and aggravated assault in the Herzmann case.”
“The two do know each other, at any rate,” said the state attorney. “The law office in which Rothemund was a partner represented Prinzler and his gang for years.”
“We received information that Rothemund has fled to Amsterdam. He was recognized on the train, but unfortunately our Dutch colleagues failed to apprehend him at the train station. We also learned that he violated his probation.”
“How?”
“Neighbors at the trailer park have often seen underage girls entering his trailer. For that, he could go back to prison.”
“That’s absolutely unbelievable.”
“I know. For now, we consider it likely that Rothemund may have something to do with the case of the girl found in the river. There is definitely a connection between the attack on Ms. Herzmann and the murder of Leonie Verges, at any rate. So that’s it. My boss will be on
Germany’s Most Wanted
tomorrow night, and we hope that afterward somebody will call in who saw something or even knows where Rothemund might be.”
“That’s a real possibility,” the state attorney agreed.
Pia had to step on the gas because Meike ran a yellow light at the intersection of Friedrich-Ebert-Park and Mainzer Landstrasse. A red light flashed.
“Shit!” Pia exclaimed.
“Excuse me?” Frey said.
“Sorry. But I was just caught in a speed trap. Red light and phone at my ear.”
“That could be expensive.” The state attorney sounded amused. “Thanks for the information, Ms. Kirchhoff. How’s it going with Lilly, by the way?”
“Everything’s fine, thanks.” Pia smiled. “Except for the fact that she got a tick that had to be removed in a dramatic operation.”
Frey laughed.
“I’m sorry that I’ve had so little time for her,” said Pia. “But with luck, we’ll probably clear up these cases soon.”
“I hope so, too. If I can do anything for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Pia assured him she would, and ended the call. Only then did she recall what Rothemund’s ex-wife and Kai Ostermann had told her. Chief State Attorney Frey and Rothemund had once been the best of friends; then Frey had not only leveled accusations at his old pal but had mercilessly set the media hounds after him. Pia pondered whether to call him back and ask him about that, but she rejected the idea at once. It was none of her business what had happened between the old friends in the past.
A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of the house on Schulstrasse in Sachsenhausen and waited for Bodenstein, who was impounding Hanna’s computer from her daughter’s apartment. Pia was annoyed with Meike Herzmann, but she was even more annoyed with herself. Yesterday, when she and Bodenstein were at Herzmann Productions, she’d thought about the computer, but then she’d been distracted by Lilly’s call about the tick and forgotten to ask about it. That was no mere oversight; It was a serious mistake that she should not have made.
* * *
Pia was actually supposed to drive with Cem and Kathrin straight from forensics to Langensebold to arrest Bernd Prinzler, but Dr. Nicola Engel had called them back. Even though, after more than fourteen years, Prinzler had a clean record, he still belonged to the inner circle of the Frankfurt Road Kings and was known to be dangerous and capable of violence. The commissioner had arranged for a “tactical action” in cooperation with a squad from the Special Assignment Unit. Bodenstein thought that was excessive, but Engel remained firm. She was afraid that Prinzler would not respond to a polite ring of the doorbell. The action had to be decisive and carried out with the element of surprise. Engel was organizing the operation herself, so Pia got to go home early for a change. She’d stopped by the supermarket in Liederbach on her way home and bought things for dinner. Over the past month, Christoph had been responsible for making dinner more and more often. He had a passionate love of food and was a much better cook than Pia, who usually didn’t feel like standing in front of the stove after work. But today she did. She turned on the electric grill on the terrace, cut zucchini and eggplant into thin slices, and placed them on the grill. While the veggies sizzled, she mixed up a marinade of olive oil, salt, pepper, and crushed garlic.
The results of the autopsy of Leonie Verges had confirmed Henning’s initial theory. The woman had died of multiple organ failure due to complete dehydration: a torturous death. If they’d discovered her two hours earlier, they might have been able to save her. It was a gruesome way to die, and Pia didn’t want to imagine what the woman must have gone through in the last hours of her life. Had she still hoped for help, or was she aware that she was going to die? But why did she have to die? And why like that? The camera, which had been aimed directly at the chair, and those appalling messages on the answering machine, which Leonie must have heard, displayed an extraordinary level of sadism. Not characteristic of someone like Bernd Prinzler, who’d previously been known for assault and the use of firearms. But Pia had been with Kripo too long to believe that criminals followed any logical patterns.
Hanna Herzmann had been a patient of Leonie Verges; this connection was clear. Had Leonie introduced Hanna to Kilian Rothemund, or vice versa? Rothemund and Prinzler, she knew from before; that was also clear. Pia hoped that Hanna would soon be able to remember something. She was the only one who might be able to shed some light on this complicated case.
Deep in thought, Pia placed the grilled zucchini strips in the marinade and put a layer of eggplant slices on the grill. She plucked a handful of sage leaves from the plant that stood on the kitchen window shelf along with the fresh basil, lemon balm, and rosemary. Lilly loved Pia’s special recipe—spaghetti with sage, Parma ham, capers, and garlic—and Christoph always bravely ate it, too.
In front of the house, the dogs began barking in a tone that signaled pure joy—Christoph and Lilly had arrived. Only seconds later, the girl dashed into the kitchen, her pigtails flying and her eyes shining. She hugged Pia, and the words bubbled out of her like a waterfall:
trampoline, Grandpa, pony, leopards, baby giraffe.
… Pia had to laugh.
“Take it easy,” she said to calm the girl down. “At that speed, I can’t understand a word.”
“But I have to hurry,” Lilly said breathlessly, as honest and serious as only a seven-year-old can be. “Since you’re finally here, I want to tell you about everything—absolutely everything.”
“But we’ve got all evening.”
“That’s what you always say,” Lilly replied. “And then your phone rings and you leave Grandpa and me alone.”
Christoph came into the kitchen, followed by the dogs. He was holding a paper packet, which he put down on the counter before he gave Pia a kiss.
“She’s got a point there.” He grinned, inspecting with a critical eye the ingredients that Pia had laid out, and raised his eyebrows. “Sage pasta?”
“Oh, my favorite!” cried Lilly. “I could die for sage pasta! Grandpa bought lamb cutlets. Gross!”
“We’ll try to find a compromise,” said Pia with a smile. “Pasta and lamb cutlets actually go together nicely. And before that, we’re having marinated zucchini and eggplant.”
“And before that, we have the bathtub,” Christoph added.
Lilly cocked her head critically.
“Okay,” she said after a moment. “But only if Pia comes with me.”
“It’s a deal.” Pia abandoned all thoughts of the case. Work would catch up with her again soon enough.
* * *
“Hi, Mama.”
Meike stood at the foot of the bed. She had to force herself to look at her mother’s disfigured face under the faint light cast by the reading lamp located in the strip above the head of the bed. The swelling had gone down a bit, but the bruises looked worse than they had in the morning.
At least now they’d moved Hanna from the ICU to a regular ward. In front of the door stood the uniformed cop that Inspector Bodenstein had ordered.
“Hi, Meike,” Hanna murmured. “Get a chair and come sit by me.”