Snow White Must Die

by Nele Neuhaus

  * * *

  The Wagner cabinet shop and the attached residence gave the impression that the owner had run out of money in the midst of construction. Unplastered walls, the front yard only partially paved, the rest covered with asphalt and full of potholes. It was actually just as depressing as the Sartorius place. Stacked up everywhere were boards and planks, some of them covered with moss, looking like they’d been lying there for years. Doors shrink-wrapped in plastic leaned against the wall of the workshop, and everything was filthy.

  Kirchhoff first rang the bell of the residence, then at the door marked OFFICE, but there was no answer. Inside the workshop the lights were on, so she pushed the metal gate open and went in. Bodenstein followed her. It smelled of fresh wood.

  “Hello?” she called. She walked through the shop, which was a terrible mess, and found behind a stack of boards a young man wearing earbuds and nodding in time to the music. He was busy varnishing something with one hand and had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. When Bodenstein tapped him on the shoulder he spun around. He tore the earbuds out of his ears, looking guilty.

  “Put out your cigarette,” Kirchhoff said to him, and he obeyed at once. “We’re looking for Mr. or Mrs. Wagner. Are they here somewhere?”

  “In the office over there,” said the youth. “At least I think so.”

  “Thanks.” Pia refrained from mentioning the fire code and set off to look for the boss, who obviously didn’t care about much of anything. She found Manfred Wagner in a tiny, windowless office so cramped that three of them would hardly fit inside. The man had lifted the receiver off the phone and was reading the BILD tabloid. Apparently nobody cared much about customers. When Bodenstein knocked on the open door to announce his presence, the man reluctantly looked up from his paper.

  “Yeah?” He was somewhere in his mid-fifties and smelled of alcohol despite the early hour. His brown coverall looked as if it hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in weeks.

  “Mr. Wagner?” Kirchhoff took over. “We’re with the Hofheim Criminal Police and we’d like to talk with you and your wife.”

  Wagner turned pale as a ghost, staring at her with his red-rimmed, watery eyes like a bunny at a snake. At that moment a vehicle pulled up outside and then a car door slammed.

  “That’s … that’s my wife,” Wagner stammered. Andrea Wagner came into the workshop, her heels clacking on the concrete floor. She had short blond hair and was very thin. She must have been pretty once, but now she looked merely careworn. Grief, bitterness, and uncertainty about the fate of her daughter had etched deep furrows in her face.

  “We’ve come to inform you that the mortal remains of your daughter Laura have been found,” said Bodenstein after he introduced himself to Andrea Wagner. For a moment there was complete silence. Manfred Wagner let out a sob. A tear ran down his unshaven cheek, and he hid his face in his hands. His wife remained calm and composed.

  “Where?” was all she asked.

  “On the grounds of the old military airfield in Eschborn.”

  Andrea Wagner heaved a big sigh. “Finally.”

  There was so much relief in this word, more than she could have expressed in ten sentences. How many days and nights of vain hope and utter despair had these two people endured? How must it feel to be constantly haunted by the ghosts of the past? The parents of the other girl had moved away, but the Wagners had not been able to give up their business, which was their livelihood. They were forced to stay, while their hope for the return of their daughter grew ever fainter. Eleven years of uncertainty must have been hell. Maybe it would help now that they could bury her and say good-bye.

  * * *

  “No, leave it,” Amelie insisted. “It’s no big deal. Just a bruise, that’s all.”

  She was certainly not going to undress and show Tobias the spot where one of those jerks had kicked her. It was embarrassing enough to be sitting here, looking so filthy and ugly.

  “But the cut might need stitches.”

  “Bullshit. It’ll heal just fine the way it is.”

  Tobias had stared at her as if she were a ghost when, shortly after seven thirty, she stood at his front door, dirty and smeared with blood. She told him that she’d just been attacked by two masked men in his yard. He made her sit down on a kitchen chair and carefully dabbed the blood from her face. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but the cut over her eyebrow, which he had stuck together in a makeshift way with two Band-Aids, might soon start bleeding again.

  “You do that really well.” Amelie gave him a crooked smile and took a drag on her cigarette. She felt shaky and her heart was pounding, but this reaction had nothing to do with the attack. It was because of Tobias. Up close and in the daylight he looked a lot better than she had first thought. The touch of his hands was like electric sparks, and the way he kept looking at her with his incredibly blue eyes, so anxious and thoughtful—that was almost too much for her nerves. No wonder all the girls in Altenhain had been after him in the old days.

  “I’m wondering what they wanted,” she said as Tobias busied himself with the coffee machine. She looked around with curiosity. So it was in this house that the two girls were murdered, Snow White and Laura.

  “They were probably waiting for me, and you happened to run into them,” he said. He set two cups on the table, along with the sugar bowl, and got some milk out of the fridge.

  “You say that so matter-of-factly. Aren’t you the least bit afraid?”

  Tobias leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He looked at her, his head tilted. “What am I supposed to do? Go into hiding? Run away? I won’t give them the satisfaction.”

  “Do you know who they might have been?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure. But I can guess.”

  Amelie could feel herself blushing under his gaze. What was going on? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She hardly dared look him in the eye, and he could probably tell what kind of emotional chaos he was unleashing inside her. The coffee machine was making alarming noises and sending out clouds of steam.

  “It probably needs decalcifying,” she diagnosed the problem. A sudden smile brightened her gloomy face, making her look totally different. Amelie stared at Tobias. She felt a crazy need to protect him, to help him.

  “The coffeemaker really isn’t a top priority,” he said with a grin. “First I have to finish cleaning up outside.”

  At that moment the doorbell rang shrilly. Tobias went to the window, and the smile vanished from his face.

  “It’s the cops again,” he said, looking tense. “You’d better go. I don’t want anyone to see you here.”

  She nodded and got up. He led her down the hall to a door.

  “This leads through the pantry to the stables. Can you make it on your own?”

  “Sure. I’m not scared. Now that it’s light out those guys aren’t going to be hanging around anymore,” she replied, determined to sound tough. They looked at each other and Amelie lowered her eyes.

  “Thanks,” said Tobias softly. “You’re a brave girl.”

  Amelie made a dismissive gesture and turned to go. Then something occurred to Tobias.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, stopping her.

  “Yes?”

  “Why were you actually out in the yard?”

  “From the picture in the paper I recognized the man who pushed your mother off the bridge,” Amelie said after a brief hesitation. “It was Manfred Wagner. Laura’s father.”

  * * *

  “You again.” Tobias Sartorius made no bones that the police were not particularly welcome. “I don’t have much time. What is it now?”

  Kirchhoff sniffed at the air, smelling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

  “Do you have company?” she asked. Bodenstein thought he’d seen another person through the kitchen window, a woman with dark hair.

  “No, I don’t.” Tobias remained standing in the doorway with his arms folded. He didn’t invite them in, altho
ugh it had started to rain. Fine with him.

  “You must have been working like a maniac,” said Pia with a friendly smile. “The place looks fantastic.”

  Her attempt at friendliness fell flat. Tobias Sartorius remained aloof, his body language radiating disapproval.

  “We just wanted to tell you that the remains of Laura Wagner have been found,” Bodenstein said then.

  “Where?”

  “You ought to know that better than we do,” Bodenstein countered coolly. “After all, you did transport Laura’s body there on the evening of September 6, 1997, in the trunk of your car.”

  “No, I did not.” Tobias frowned, but his voice remained calm. “I never saw Laura again after she ran off. But I’ve already told the police that a hundred times, haven’t I?”

  “Laura’s skeleton was discovered by construction workers at the old military airfield in Eschborn,” said Kirchhoff. “In an underground tank.”

  Tobias looked at her and swallowed. There was a look of utter incomprehension in his eyes.

  “At the airfield?” he murmured quietly. “I would never have gone there.”

  All his animosity seemed to drop away at once; he appeared dismayed and distraught. Kirchhoff reminded herself that he’d had eleven years to prepare himself for this moment of being confronted with what he’d done. He must have reckoned that someone would find the girl’s corpse one day. Maybe he had practiced his reaction, planning in detail how he could make his look of surprise believable. On the other hand—why would he do that? He had served his time, and it shouldn’t matter to him if the bodies were found now. She thought about how her colleague Hasse had characterized this man: arrogant, overbearing, ice cold. Was that true?

  “We’d be interested to know whether Laura was already dead when you threw her in the tank,” said Bodenstein. Kirchhoff kept her eyes fixed on Tobias. He was very pale and his mouth was quivering as though he were about to break out in tears.

  “I can’t answer that question,” he replied tonelessly.

  “Then who can?” asked Kirchhoff.

  “That’s something that has occupied my mind day and night for eleven years.” His voice sounded like he was struggling to maintain control. “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. I have long since gotten used to being considered the villain.”

  “Things would have gone much better for your mother if you’d said back then what you did with the girl,” Bodenstein remarked. Tobias shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  “Does that mean you found out who the bastard was that pushed my mother off the bridge?”

  “No, we haven’t yet,” Bodenstein conceded. “But for the time being we’re assuming it was someone from the village.”

  Tobias laughed. A brief, cheerless snort.

  “Congratulations on your incredibly astute observation,” he said mockingly. “I could help you out, because I happen to know who it was. But why should I?”

  “Because that person committed a crime,” replied Bodenstein. “You have to tell us what you know.”

  “I don’t have to do shit.” Tobias Sartorius shook his head. “Maybe you’re better than your colleagues were eleven years ago. Things would have gone considerably better for my mother, my father, and me if the police had done their work properly and caught the real killer.”

  Kirchhoff wanted to say something to placate him, but Bodenstein spoke before she had a chance. “Naturally”—his voice was sarcastic—“you’re innocent, of course. We know that. Our prisons are full of innocent people.”

  Tobias looked at him stonefaced. Fury suppressed with difficulty flickered in his eyes. “You cops are all the same—arrogant and full of yourselves,” he hissed contemptuously. “You don’t have a clue what’s going on here. Now get out and leave me in peace!”

  Before Kirchhoff or Bodenstein could say a word, he slammed the door in their faces.

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” Pia said reproachfully as they walked back to the car. “Now you’ve really turned him against us, and we still don’t know anything more.”

  “But I was right!” Oliver stopped short. “Did you see his eyes? The guy is capable of anything, and if he really does know who pushed his mother off the bridge, then that man is in danger.”

  “You’re biased,” Pia chided him. “He comes home after ten years in the joint—possibly having been sentenced unjustly—and finds out that everything here has changed. His mother is attacked and seriously injured, unknown vandals spray graffiti on his parents’ house. Is it any wonder he’s pissed off?”

  “Give me a break, Pia! You can’t seriously believe that they convicted the wrong guy for a double murder!”

  “I don’t believe anything. But I’ve found discrepancies in the old case files, so I have my doubts.”

  “The man is ice cold. And as far as how the villagers have reacted, I can perfectly understand it.”

  “Don’t tell me you condone somebody scrawling insults on the walls and the whole village conspiring to cover up the identity of the real killer!” Pia shook her head in disbelief.

  “I’m not saying that I condone it,” said Oliver. They were standing underneath the arch of the village gate and squabbling like an old married couple, so they didn’t notice when Tobias Sartorius left his house and headed across the yard in back.

  * * *

  Andrea Wagner couldn’t sleep. They had found Laura’s body, or rather, what was left of it. Finally, finally, all the uncertainty was over. They had given up hoping for a miracle long ago. At first they had felt nothing but boundless relief, but now the grief had set in. For eleven long years she had forbidden herself tears and sadness, displaying great strength and supporting her husband, who had abandoned himself to brooding about their missing child. But she couldn’t afford to break down. She had to keep the company going so that they could pay their debts at the bank. And there were the younger children, who deserved their mother’s attention. Nothing was the same as it once had been. Manfred had lost all his energy and joie de vivre, acting as if a millstone were attached to his leg, succumbing to his whiny self-pity and too much drinking. Sometimes she despised him. It was so easy for him to slip into hating Tobias’s family, and to her that seemed like a cop-out.

  Andrea opened the door to Laura’s room, where nothing had been changed for the past eleven years. Manfred had insisted on it, and she had acquiesced. She turned on the light, taking the photo of Laura from the desk and sitting down on the bed. She waited in vain for the tears to come. Her thoughts strayed to that moment eleven years ago, when the police had stood at the front door and informed her that after evaluating the evidence they had arrested Tobias Sartorius for the murder of their daughter.

  Why Tobias? she had thought in bewilderment. Offhand she could think of ten other boys who had more reasons to take revenge on Laura than Tobias did. Andrea had known what people in the village were whispering about her daughter. They had called her a slut, a calculating little bitch with big ambitions. While Manfred loved and idolized his oldest daughter unconditionally and always found excuses for her bad behavior, Andrea had seen Laura’s weaknesses and hoped she would eventually grow out of them. But the girl hadn’t had the chance. It was odd, really, that she had such a hard time remembering anything positive when she thought of Laura. Memories of the unpleasant things were more vivid, and there had been plenty of those. Laura had always had a low opinion of her father and was ashamed of him. She would have preferred a father like Claudius Terlinden, who had style and power—it was something she never hesitated to tell Manfred to his face at every suitable or unsuitable opportunity. Manfred had swallowed these insults without batting an eye, and they did no damage to the love he felt for his beautiful daughter. Andrea, on the other hand, was shocked to realize how little she knew her daughter, and blamed herself for failing to bring her up better. At the same time she was scared. What if Laura found out that she was having an affair with Claudius, her boss?

  Night
after night she had lain awake worrying about her daughter. During Laura’s teenage years Andrea had probably had even more reasons for concern. Laura was getting wild with the boys in town—until she finally starting going steady with Tobias. All of a sudden she seemed changed: content and happy. Tobias was doing her good. Undoubtedly he was something special; he was good-looking, he excelled in school and at sports, and the other boys listened to him. He was exactly what Laura had always wanted, and his popularity also rubbed off on her, his girlfriend. For half a year everything went well—until Stefanie Schneeberger came to Altenhain. Laura had instantly recognized her as competition and quickly made friends with her, but it did no good. Tobias fell for Stefanie and broke up with Laura, who clearly couldn’t cope with this setback. Her mother had no idea what exactly had transpired between the two young people that summer, but she knew that Laura was playing with fire when she urged her friends to turn against Stefanie. Andrea had discovered Laura at the photocopier in her office with a big stack of copies she had made. Laura blew her top when her mother tried to take a look at what was printed on them. They got into a fierce argument, and in her fury Laura ended up leaving the original in the copier. There was only one sentence in bold type on the white page: SNOW WHITE MUST DIE.

  Andrea had folded up the sheet of paper and kept it, but she never showed it to her husband or the police. The idea that her child would wish the death of another human being was simply intolerable. Had Laura become the victim of her own intrigue? Andrea had kept her mouth shut and let things run their course. And every night she’d listened to Manfred glorifying their daughter.

  “Laura,” she murmured, caressing the photo with her forefinger. “What did you do?”

  Suddenly a tear ran down her cheek, then another. She blinked, wiping her hand over her face. It wasn’t grief that brought tears to her eyes, but the feeling of guilt that she hadn’t loved her daughter.

  * * *

  It was half past one before he stood in front of her house. For three hours he had driven around the area aimlessly. So much had bombarded him today that he simply couldn’t stand staying at home. First Amelie, who had suddenly appeared covered in blood. The shock at the sight of her. It wasn’t the blood on her face that had made his adrenaline level shoot up to the heights of Mount Everest, but her incredible likeness to Stefanie. Yet she was completely different. Not the vain little beauty queen who had bewitched him, seduced him, and duped him, only to dump him with such ice-cold indifference. Amelie was an impressive girl. And she seemed to have no fears of being touched.