Snow White Must Die (10 page)

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As on every Sunday after church the usual suspects had gathered in the Black Horse. Drinking early in the day was a man’s prerogative; the women had to stay home and tend to the Sunday roast. This was one of the reasons that Amelie found Sundays in Altenhain to be the epitome of stuffy bourgeois life. Today even the boss was there in person. During the week Andreas Jagielski took care of his two high-end restaurants in Frankfurt and left the running of the Black Horse to his wife and brother-in-law; he only showed up himself on Sundays. Amelie didn’t particularly like him. Jagielski was a massive man with bulbous frog eyes and bulging lips. After the Wall came down he was one of the first former East Germans to move to Altenhain; Amelie had learned that from Roswitha. He had worked as a cook at the Golden Rooster but had scornfully deserted his employer at the first sign of the inn’s impending collapse, only to start up business across the street as a competitor with the Black Horse. Offering the exact same menu as Hartmut Sartorius, but with much more favorable prices and the luxury of a big parking lot, Jagielski had pulled the rug out from under his former boss and significantly contributed to the final demise of the Golden Rooster. Roswitha had loyally stuck it out with Sartorius to the very end and only reluctantly accepted the job with Jagielski.

In the morning Amelie got ready with great care, removing all her piercings, fixing her hair in two braids, and putting on less dramatic makeup. From her stepmother’s wardrobe she had borrowed a white blouse that was actually too small for her, and in her own wardrobe she had found a sexy plaid miniskirt. Black tights and calf-high Doc Martens completed the outfit. Standing in front of the mirror she had unbuttoned the blouse far enough so that the black bra and the swell of her breasts were visible. Jenny Jagielski had refrained from comment, merely giving Amelie a fleeting glance, but her husband had taken a good long look deep into her décolletage and then gave her a wink.

Now he was sitting at the round table fully occupied by the regulars in the middle of the room, in between Lutz Richter and Claudius Terlinden. The latter was a rarely seen guest at the Black Horse, but today he seemed affable and approachable. Even at the bar the men were sitting elbow to elbow, with Jenny and her brother drawing beers in tandem. Manfred Wagner had recovered, and he even seemed to have been to the barber, because his scraggly beard was gone and he looked reasonably civilized. As Amelie approached the table with another round of beer, she caught the name of Tobias Sartorius and pricked up her ears.

“… bold and arrogant just like before,” proclaimed Lutz Richter. “He’s got some nerve showing up here again.”

There was a murmur of agreement; only Terlinden and Jagielski kept quiet.

“If he keeps on like that, there’ll be trouble sooner or later,” someone else said.

“He won’t stay here for long,” said a third man. “We’ll make sure of that.”

It was Udo Pietsch, the roofer, who had said that, and the other men nodded and murmured in approval.

“Come on, boys, none of you is going to make sure of anything,” Claudius Terlinden intervened. “He has served his time, and now he can live here with his father as long as he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

Everyone at the table fell silent; no one dared contradict him, but Amelie saw some of the men exchanging furtive glances. Claudius Terlinden was mistaken if he thought he could put an end to a discussion about the collective animosity that people in Altenhain felt toward Tobias Sartorius.

“Eight beers for the gentlemen,” Amelie spoke up, finding the tray a bit heavy by now.

“Oh yes, thank you, Amelie.” Terlinden nodded to her benevolently, but his expression suddenly froze for a fraction of a second. He recovered at once and gave a rather forced smile. Amelie could tell that her altered appearance was the cause of his astonishment. She smiled back, cocked her head coquettishly and held his glance a bit longer than decent girls should, then she turned to clear off the neighboring table. She could feel him following her every movement with his eyes, and she couldn’t resist wiggling her hips a little as she walked back to the kitchen with the tray of dirty glasses. She hoped the men were really thirsty; she was dying to eavesdrop some more. Until now her interest in the whole story had arisen from the fact that there was an actual connection between herself and one of the murder victims. But after her encounter with Tobias Sartorius yesterday, there was a new motivation for her interest. She liked him.

*   *   *

Tobias Sartorius was speechless. When Nadia told him that she lived on Karpfenweg by the West Harbor in Frankfurt, he had envisioned a renovated old building in the Gutleut district, but what he now saw was something completely different. In the huge area of the former West Harbor a few blocks south of the main train station, a new and exclusive part of the city had sprouted with modern office buildings on the land side and twelve seven-story apartment blocks on the former pier, which had been given the name Karpfenweg. He parked his car at the side of the road and walked in amazement across the bridge over the former harbor basin carrying a bouquet of flowers. A few yachts were bobbing up and down in the black water by the boat docks. Late that afternoon Nadia had called and invited him to her place for dinner. Tobias hadn’t felt much desire to drive all the way into the city, but he owed Nadia something for the steadfast loyalty she had shown him over the past ten years. He had showered and left in his father’s car at seven thirty, with no idea what changes awaited him. It started with a brand-new traffic circle at Tengelmann supermarket in Bad Soden; the Main-Taunus shopping center had also grown. And in Frankfurt he couldn’t find his way at all. For someone who wasn’t used to driving, the city was a true nightmare. He was forty-five minutes late when he finally located the building with the right number.

“Take the elevator to the eighth floor,” Nadia’s cheerful voice told him over the intercom. The buzzer sounded and Tobias entered the foyer of the building, which was extravagantly adorned with granite and glass. The glass-enclosed elevator whisked him in seconds all the way to the top, with a fantastic view of the Frankfurt skyline across the water. The city had certainly changed in recent years. There were many new skyscrapers.

“There you are!” Nadia welcomed him radiantly as he stepped out of the elevator on the eighth floor. He clumsily handed her the bouquet wrapped in cellophane, which he had bought at a gas station.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” She took the bouquet, grabbed his hand, and led him into the apartment, which took his breath away. The penthouse was gigantic. Huge picture windows all the way to the shiny parquet floor offered spectacular views in all directions. A fire crackled in the fireplace, the warm voice of Leonard Cohen filtered from invisible loudspeakers, and discreet lighting and burning candles lent the already spacious rooms even more depth. For a moment Tobias was tempted to turn on his heel and run away. He was not an envious person, but the sight of this dream apartment made him feel even more like a pathetic failure and tied his throat in knots. He and Nadia were worlds apart. What the hell did she want from him? She was famous, she was rich, she was beautiful—surely she could spend her evenings with other prosperous, amusing, and stimulating people instead of with an embittered ex-con like him.

“Let me have your jacket,” she said. He took it off and instantly felt ashamed of the cheap, shabby thing. Nadia proudly led him into the big kitchen that opened onto the living room. A butcher’s block stood in the middle, granite and stainless steel predominated, and the stylish appliances were by Gaggenau. There was a tantalizing aroma of roast meat, and Tobias could feel his stomach growling. He had spent the whole day slaving away at the farm sorting trash, hardly taking time for a break. Nadia took a bottle of Moët & Chandon out of the gleaming stainless steel refrigerator as she told him that she had acquired the apartment only as a pied-à-terre for the times when she stayed overnight in Frankfurt—she couldn’t stand hotels. But for now it was her main residence. She poured champagne into two crystal flutes and handed him one.

“I’m happy you could come,” she said with a smile.

“And I thank you for the invitation,” replied Tobias, who had recovered from the initial shock and was able to return her smile.

“To you,” Nadia said, clinking her glass softly against his.

“No, to you,” Tobias answered seriously. “Thanks for everything.”

How lovely she was. In the past her almost androgynous face with the sweet freckles had always seemed a bit angular, but now it had softened and her bright eyes sparkled. She had pulled back her honey-blond hair into a knot, but a few strands had come loose, hanging in tendrils against her lightly tanned neck. She was slender, but not too thin. Her teeth between the full lips were white and regular, the result of those hated braces from her teen years.

They smiled at each other and took another sip of champagne, but all at once the face of another woman appeared in front of Nadia’s. This was precisely how he had wanted to live with Stefanie, after they finished medical school, when he was making a good living as a doctor. He had been convinced that she was the love of his life; he had dreamed of their future together, of children …

“What is it?” Nadia asked. Tobias met her concerned gaze.

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“You suddenly looked so upset.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had champagne?” He forced himself to grin, but the memory of Stefanie had cut him to the quick. After all these years, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. The dream of complete happiness had lasted only a brief four weeks, and it had ended in catastrophe.

He banished the unwelcome thoughts and sat down at the table in the kitchen, which Nadia had set so beautifully. There was tortelloni filled with ricotta and spinach, a perfectly cooked beef filet with a Barolo sauce, arugula salad with shaved Parmesan cheese, and a wonderful bottle of 1992 Pomerol.

Tobias discovered that, contrary to what he had feared, he found it easy to talk with Nadia. She told him about her work, including some funny episodes and odd encounters—and in an amusing way, without mentioning how successful she was. After the third glass of red wine Tobias started to feel its effects. They left the kitchen and took seats on the leather couch in the living room, she in one corner, he in the other. Like old friends. Over the fireplace hung a framed movie poster from Nadia’s first feature film—the only reminder of her great success as an actress.

“It’s incredible what you’ve achieved,” said Tobias pensively. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you very much.” She smiled and tucked one leg under her. “It’s strange—who would have thought it possible when we were kids: Ugly duckling Nathalie becomes a big movie star.”

“But you were never ugly,” countered Tobias, astounded that she had ever viewed herself that way.

“Well, you never considered me attractive.”

For the first time that evening their conversation was approaching the delicate topic that they had both been carefully avoiding.

“But you were always my best friend,” said Tobias. “All the other girls were jealous because I spent so much time with you.”

“But you never tried to kiss me…”

She said this in a teasing tone of voice, but suddenly Tobias realized that it must have hurt her feelings back then. No girl wanted to be the best friend of a cute boy, even though in his eyes it signified how much he respected her. Tobias tried to remember why he’d never fallen in love with Nadia. Maybe because she had always been more like a little sister. They had literally played in the same sandbox and had gone to the same kindergarten and elementary school. He’d always taken for granted that she was in his life. But now something had changed. Nadia had changed. This was no longer Nathalie, the dependable, honest, reliable companion of his childhood. Next to him sat an extremely attractive, beautiful woman, who was sending him quite unequivocal signals, as he now realized. Could she actually want more from him than friendship?

“Why haven’t you ever married?” he asked her suddenly. His voice had turned husky.

“Because I’ve never met the right man.” Nadia shrugged and leaned forward to top off their glasses with more red wine. “My career is an absolute relationship killer. Anyway, most men can’t tolerate having a successful wife. And I certainly don’t want to marry some vain, narcissistic fellow actor. That would never work. I’m fine with the way things are.”

“I’ve been following your career. In the joint you have plenty of time to read and watch TV.”

“Which of my movies did you like best?”

“I don’t know.” Tobias smiled. “They’re all good.”

“You’re flattering me.” She tilted her head to one side. A loose strand of hair fell into her eyes. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

She lit a cigarette, took a drag, and then stuck it between Tobias’s lips the way she had so often done before. Their faces were very close. Tobias raised his hand and touched her cheek. He felt her breath warm on his face, then her lips on his mouth. They both hesitated for a moment.

“It would be bad for your reputation if someone found out that you know an ex-con,” Tobias whispered.

“What if I told you that my reputation has never mattered to me?” she replied in a hoarse voice. She took his cigarette from his hand and dropped it casually in the ashtray behind her. Her cheeks glowed and her eyes shone. He felt her desire echoing his own yearning and pulled her on top of him. His hands slid up her thighs and grasped her hips. His heart was pounding and a wave of lust surged through his body as her tongue penetrated his mouth. When was the last time he had slept with a woman? He could scarcely remember.
Stefanie … the red sofa …
Nadia’s kiss turned passionate. Without stopping they tore off their clothes and made love full of desire, mute and gasping and with no trace of tenderness. There would be time enough for that later.