I Am Your Judge: A Novel (14 page)

Lars, her older brother, had developed into an unspeakable smart-ass. She had deeply offended him when she turned a deaf ear to his conservative advice about investments. Instead, in the late ’90s, she invested a few thousand euros in stocks in the New Market, Germany’s answer to NASDAQ. When she later sold the stocks, she had enough to buy Birkenhof after she separated from Henning. Lars, who considered himself the ultimate stock market pro, had been so vexed by this turn of events that he hadn’t spoken a word to her since. The only family member who had even sporadic contact with Pia was her little sister, Kim, who worked in Hamburg as a prison psychologist—a profession that in the Freitag family was almost as frowned upon as Pia’s own.

“Yeah, you sure can’t pick your family,” said Kai. “I barely have any contact with my parents anymore. At Christmas and on my birthday, I always get a card on handmade paper.”

He linked his hands behind his head and laughed.

“They’re such typical hippies, living on an old farm in the Rhön district with no heat or electricity and growing their own vegetables. To them, it was absolute treason that I ended up joining the police force, and in their eyes, I’m the black sheep. I still remember how ashamed I felt when I was in the riot police and was assigned to a demonstration against the transportation of nuclear waste in CASTOR containers. My parents and their activist pals had chained themselves to the railroad tracks.”

Pia grinned.

“At one point, my father even told me that if I were ever kidnapped, he wouldn’t pay a cent in ransom,” Kai went on. “That’s how disappointed he was in me.”

“That’s pretty extreme,” Pia said. “He didn’t really mean it, did he?”

“Oh, yes, he did.” Kai shrugged. “It made leaving much easier for me. My parents’ own reality is the only one they acknowledge, and I detest people like that. They act like they’re so socially conscious and enlightened, but in fact, they’re the most unyielding and intolerant ignoramuses I’ve ever met.”

“My parents are simply bourgeois people who have never dared peek over the garden fence,” said Pia. “They never go beyond their tiny world and are terrified of any change.” She frowned. “In the past few days, I’ve been asking myself how I would react if my parents or my brother were shot by a sniper.”

“And?” Kai looked at her curiously.

“Hmm. This may sound pretty heartless, but I don’t think it would affect me that much. They are strangers to me, and I have absolutely nothing to say to them.”

“Same with me.” said Kai with a nod. “So why are you going there for Christmas?”

“Maybe for the exact same reasons,” Pia admitted. “My own thoughts have terrified me. I want to give them one more chance. They are my family, after all.”

“But they take no interest in you,” said Kai. “So it’s your right not to take any interest in them. God knows at our age we no longer have to bend over backwards just to please our parents and siblings.”

Monday, December 24, 2012

Nothing had changed in the past twenty years, neither the house nor her parents. After only ten minutes, Pia regretted her decision to spend Christmas Eve with them.

“You could have at least gone to church,” their mother had said to Pia and Kim disapprovingly. And with that, the last bit of goodwill Pia’d had when she drove to Igstadt vanished into thin air.

Feeling tense and uncomfortable, she was now sitting on the leather couch in the living room of her parents’ ’70s-era house. She was squeezed in between her sister-in-law, Sylvia, and her sister, Kim, who had arrived two hours before from Hamburg and would be staying with Pia at Birkenhof.

She had done her best to start up a conversation, politely asking her parents, brother, and her brother’s wife how they were. That had provoked a monologue several minutes long from Sylvia, who had babbled on about pretentious trivialities. Her mother, plump and red-cheeked, paid no attention as usual because she didn’t care about anything that had nothing to do with her own blood relatives. Pia’s father sat silently in his easy chair and just stared into space.

“I need to go in the kitchen,” her mother said as soon as Sylvia paused to take a breath.

“Would you like some help?” asked Pia and Kim in unison.

“No, no, everything is ready,” was her reply.

Without Sylvia, the conversation would probably have come to a standstill. People simply had nothing to say. Pia sipped at her Riesling, which was so acidic that her stomach clenched painfully.

“Most people who study psychology secretly just want to analyze themselves,” Sylvia claimed, setting her wineglass on a coaster. In the five years since Pia had last seen her, she had expanded like a yeast dumpling, just like Lars, who could have taught even Napoleon Neff something about a smug attitude.

“Well, at least I have a profession and don’t have to depend on a man to support me,” Kim retorted. “I think my job is fun, and I’m good at it.”

She was the complete opposite of Sylvia: tall, slim, and without a trace of makeup.

“I keep asking myself whether any man could ever put up with you,” Sylvia snapped back with a phony smile that did nothing to ameliorate the malice in her words. “You know, you’ll be turning forty-three soon. Your biological clock must be ticking as loudly as Big Ben!” She roared with laughter at her own joke.

“I could never understand why women like you believe that a husband and children represent the very pinnacle of good fortune in the world,” Kim countered coolly. “In my opinion, you’re all kidding yourselves. I’m sure that most housewives with kids would much rather live like I do: financially independent, with successful jobs, and free to sleep in on Sunday.…”

Kim winked at Pia, who had to stifle a grin.

“It’s obvious that you’re trying to make your sad single life sound better than it is.” Sylvia gave a mocking laugh. But her laughter was forced, because Kim had struck a sore spot with unerring precision. “Children are wonderful! So fulfilling for a woman. But you wouldn’t know, since you don’t have any.”

“A classic example of self-delusion,” Kim countered. “Children are egotistical little monsters who destroy most relationships. And once they eventually leave home, the parents sit there and have nothing more to say to each other, because for years, they’ve talked about nothing but their brats.”

Pia tuned out, hoping that dinner would be over soon and they could leave. Her thoughts wandered. The incidents of the past few days had severely curtailed the retail Christmas trade in the whole region. The parking lots in front of the supermarkets had emptied out, and the Christmas markets in Frankfurt and Wiesbaden had closed a day earlier than planned, because the crowds weren’t coming. And the TV news was to blame, reporting around the clock on the sniper murders. The stations had also cut in archival footage from the States and managed to terrify people. Out of fear of being shot by a sniper, everyone stayed home. The media implied that a maniac was on the loose who shot people at random.

At first that had seemed to be true, but after receiving the obituaries, whose authenticity no one doubted, the police knew that the sniper killed only targeted individuals. At the Monday morning meeting, which Neff did not attend, Pia suggested giving the press more accurate information. But her boss and Engel considered it too risky because it might sound like an all-clear and lull the public into a false sense of security.

Fortunately, Sunday passed with no new incidents. Renate Rohleder had gone to visit a friend in Cologne, taking her dog. In the crime lab, they had managed to find fingerprints on the two obituaries only from their own colleagues who had opened the letters and potentially Professor Therbolt. The investigation had come to a standstill, and it made no sense to sit around at K-11 doing nothing. So they had all wished each other Merry Christmas around noon and gone home, hoping that Neff might be right in his prognosis.

“When are you going to introduce us to this zoo guy of yours?” said Sylvia, turning to Pia. “It’s a little strange that he would take off on vacation over the holidays without you. That would certainly make me think twice.”

“He isn’t on vacation,” Pia replied. “He’s working.”

By now, the wine in her glass had turned lukewarm and tasted even more hideous than before.

“So you were looking for another workaholic like your ex?” Lars jumped in. “But you’re probably always on call, too, aren’t you?”

“Actually, I am on call today,” Pia said, thinking that she wouldn’t mind taking a call on Christmas Eve, as long as nobody had to die.

Neither her parents nor Lars had asked how she was doing or how her job was going. They were so indifferent that they couldn’t even fake any interest out of politeness.
They take no interest in you, so it’s your right not to take any interest in them,
said Kai.
So it’s your right not to take any interest in them.
Kai’s words rang in her ears. Somehow she would survive the evening and then call it quits with this family of hers. For good.

*   *   *

“It’s out of the question for you to take a cab.” Oliver took the telephone gently but firmly from his ex-mother-in-law’s hand. “I’ll drive you home.”

Like Pia, he was constantly on call, so he’d limited himself to a glass of champagne before dinner and hadn’t drunk anything else all evening.

“Only if it’s not an inconvenience for you,” said Gabriela. “It’s already late, and you’ve had a long day.”

“It’s not inconvenient, on the contrary,” Oliver declared.

“All right, then!” Countess Gabriela Rothkirch raised her wineglass in Rosalie’s direction. “Thank you for the fantastic Christmas and farewell dinner, my dear.”

“Yes, once again, it was top class,” Inka agreed. “The Americans have no idea what a jewel is coming their way.”

“Thank you,” said Rosalie, moved. “You’re all so dear to me. Oh, how I’m going to miss you.” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“We’ll miss you, too,” said Oliver, making a face. “As of tomorrow, the cooking is back in the hands of an amateur.”

“Papa! I’ve left you a bunch of recipes that are quick and easy to cook,” Rosalie reminded her father. “And you’d better watch out if I hear you’ve been eating frozen pizzas.”

“Never again in my life,” Oliver promised with a smile. It had been a lovely, happy, and harmonious evening. His son, Lorenz, and Inka’s daughter, Thordis, came from Bad Vilbel and were going to stay at Inka’s. Sophia had behaved well, considering the circumstances, although she’d been disappointed when Cosima didn’t call as she’d promised.

“All right, let’s go, Gabriela.” Oliver stood up. “By the time I get back, the kids will no doubt have cleaned up the kitchen.”

“The kids?” Lorenz grinned in amusement. “I see only one kid here, and she’s out like a light on your couch.”

“Luckily,” added Rosalie, who had often been the babysitter for her little sister.

“Even though you’re all grown up, you’ll always be my kids,” said Oliver.

“Oh, Papa!” Rosalie jumped up and flung her arms around his neck. “You are really the dearest and best papa in the world. I miss you already.”

After an affectionate and tearful farewell, Oliver and Gabriela left the house. He opened the car door for her and then got in behind the wheel. The night was icy cold and clear, and there was hardly any traffic on the streets.

“What a lovely evening,” said Gabriela. “I’m glad that I’m still welcome in your home.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Oliver replied. “You’re not only Cosima’s mother and the grandmother of my children, you’re also a magnificent woman whom I treasure in my heart.”

“Thank you, Oliver. You said that beautifully.” For a while, they drove in silence.

“I hope you know that I strongly disapprove of Cosima’s way of life,” Gabriela said at last. “Even though she’s my daughter, I can’t help criticizing her. Your divorce hit me hard.”

“I know, but I…,” Oliver began, thinking that he had to justify himself somehow, but Gabriela briefly touched his hand resting on the gearshift.

“No, no, you did nothing wrong, my dear,” she said. “In your place, I most likely would have set her suitcases at the door. Just this evening, I was thinking about how often Cosima left you alone with the kids and went traipsing around the world. And now she’s doing exactly the same thing instead of taking care of Sophia. Maybe I wasn’t strict enough with her when she was little.”

She gave a deep sigh.

“I’m glad that we’re alone for a change,” she went on as Bodenstein drove down Ölmühlweg in Königstein. “Because there’s something I want to discuss with you. Something that’s been weighing on my mind since you two divorced. A few months ago, I changed my will. Cosima will get her legal portion, but I have assigned the major portion of my assets to my grandchildren with you as my executor.”

Bodenstein couldn’t believe his ears.

“But you…,” he tried to protest. His mother-in-law refused to listen.

“I know, I know. But I’ve considered everything in detail and consulted with my lawyer. I’m going to give you my house as a gift,” she went on. “I prefer to share my wealth with a warm hand rather than a cold one. And with a little luck, I’ll live long enough that you’ll be spared the inheritance tax.”

“But, Gabriela, I … I can’t accept that!” Bodenstein wasn’t easily unsettled, but this unexpected announcement threw him off balance. His mother-in-law’s villa was located on a huge plot of land in the Hardtwald, the best location in Bad Homburg, and it was worth millions. Apart from that, she also owned apartments and houses, a significant private art collection, a charitable foundation, and a considerable fortune in stock. He felt dizzy at the thought that he, a humble Kripo officer, would in the future have to deal with all this.

“Pay attention to the road!” Gabriela shouted, laughing. “Oliver, you are the son I’ve always wished I’d had. You’re a family man with values that you live by. You’re warmhearted, levelheaded, considerate, and dependable. I can’t imagine anyone who would be better suited to administer my estate and protect my grandchildren. Naturally, you will receive appropriate compensation for this task, and after my demise, you can do with the fortune whatever you think is right. In addition, I would be very happy to fulfill a few of your dearest wishes in advance. You have always been much too modest. So what do you think about all this?”