Bad Wolf (7 page)

*   *   *

Since early in the evening, people had been grilling and drinking all over the trailer park. During the summer months, the social life of the residents took place mostly outdoors, and the later it got, the more the noise and alcohol levels rose. Laughter, yelling, music—nobody took anyone else into consideration, and occasionally trivial incidents would escalate to loud and even physical arguments between neighbors who even when sober couldn’t stand one another. Usually, the trailer park operator managed to mediate the squabbles, but the hot weather had stirred up animosities to such a degree that the police had been called in several times over the past week to prevent anyone from being injured or killed.

It had been years now since he had been invited by anyone, because he had consistently refused every invitation. The last thing he needed was some sort of camaraderie with the other residents of the trailer park. Given his history, it was clearly better if no one knew who he really was or why he was living here. The leaseholder was the only person he had ever told his real name, and he doubted that the man would remember him. There was no official lease agreement for the trailer. Not wanting to draw attention, he always paid the rent on time and in cash. His official address was a box at the Schwanheim post office. Here, at the trailer park, he didn’t exist. And that’s the way he liked it.

Years ago, he had made it a habit to go for a walk while people were partying and getting drunk. The noise didn’t bother him, but ever since he’d started working at the lunch stand, he could hardly tolerate the smell of grilled meat and sausages that wafted over to him. So he’d walked a ways along the bank of the Main River, and he’d sat on a bench for a while. Normally, the slowly flowing river calmed him, but today the monotonous lapping of the water had put him in an agonizing state of heightened awareness, which made him even more cognizant of the wretchedness of his life and his total lack of prospects. To escape the senseless replay of his thoughts, he’d started jogging along the river, all the way to Goldstein and back.

Total physical exhaustion was normally the best way to put a stop to these bitter thoughts. But this time, it hadn’t worked. Maybe it was because of the unbearable heat. A cold shower had brought only temporary relief; half an hour later, he was again drenched in sweat, tossing and turning in bed. A shrill ringtone suddenly came from his cell phone, which was in its charging stand on the table. Who could it be at this hour? he wondered. He stood up and glanced at the display, then took the call.

“Sorry to disturb you again so late,” said a rough bass voice. “Turn on the TV. It’s on every channel.”

Before he could reply, the caller hung up. He grabbed the remote and switched on the tiny TV at the foot of his bed.

Seconds later, he saw the serious face of a blond woman on the screen. Blue lights were flashing behind her, and black water glinted between the trees illuminated by floodlights.

“… of a young girl was found,” he heard the woman say. “According to preliminary estimates, the body had been in the water for several days. We hope to obtain additional information from the autopsy.”

He froze.

Two men were loading a stretcher with a body bag on it into the hearse, and behind them two figures clad in protective overalls were carrying a plastic bag. Then the camera panned over to the sluiceway.

“Not far from the locks at Eddersheim, the body of a young girl was discovered today floating in the Main,” said the voiceover. “The identity of the girl is unknown, and the police are hoping for tips from the public. This is reminiscent of a similar case from a few years ago.”

An older man blinked under the bright lights.

“Yep, I remember there was a girl found in the river once before. It was over there in Höchst, at the Wörthspitze. To this day, they don’t know who the poor girl was. If I remember rightly, it was around ten years ago, and then…”

He turned off the TV and stood there in the dark. He was breathing hard, as if he’d been running.

“Nine,” he whispered in a strained voice. “It was nine years ago.”

Fear crept like goose bumps all over his body. His probation officer knew that he lived here. So it would be no problem for the police and the SA’s office to locate him. What was going to happen now? Would they remember him?

All trace of fatigue had left him, and his thoughts were coming thick and fast. There was no hope of going to sleep. He switched on the light and took the cleaning bucket and a bottle of bleach from the cabinet next to the kitchen unit. They were going to come here, search through everything, and they’d find her DNA in his trailer! No way could he let that happen, because if he violated probation, he’d have to go straight back to the joint.

*   *   *

Pia closed the front door carefully, making sure that the dogs weren’t going to break out in a chorus of welcoming barks and wake Christoph. But no dog awaited her on the enclosed porch; instead, she smelled the aroma of roast meat and saw that a light was on in the kitchen. She set her shoulder bag and car keys on the hall cabinet. The four dogs were sitting in the kitchen, watching Christoph’s every movement with synchronized adoration. He was standing at the stove, dressed in shorts, the T-shirt he wore to bed, and an apron, holding two meat forks in his hands. The fan on the stove was on high.

“Hi,” Pia said in astonishment. “Are you awake or sleepwalking?”

The dogs turned their heads only briefly and wagged their tails; then they went back to watching what was happening on the stove, which was much more interesting.

“Hey, sweetie,” said Christoph with a grin. “I was almost asleep when I remembered that I’d left the roulades in the fridge. And I promised Lilly that I’d make roulades for a homecoming dinner.”

Pia had to smile. She went over and gave him a kiss.

“In all of Germany, could there be another man who would get up at one-thirty in the morning to roast roulades when the temperature is almost eighty degrees? Unbelievable.”

“I’ve even filled them,” Christoph said, not without pride. “Mustard, cucumbers, bacon, onions. A promise is a promise.”

Pia took off Kröger’s fleece jacket and hung it over the back of a chair before plopping down onto the seat.

“How was your class reunion?” Christoph asked. “Must have been fun if you could stand being there so long.”

“Oh, the reunion.” Pia had totally forgotten about it. The laughing and chattering women on the terrace of the Villa Borgnis beneath the velvety black sky filled with stars seemed to her like a harmless idyllic short film before the horror flick called reality. And in this particular reality, a teenager had died.

She kicked off the sling-back heels, which were now candidates for the garbage can after she’d tramped through the underbrush.

“Yes, it was quite nice. But unfortunately, I had to leave and go to work.”

“Work?” Christoph turned and raised his eyebrows. He knew what nighttime work meant in Pia’s profession. It was seldom benign. “Bad?”

“Yep.” She leaned her elbows on the table and rubbed her face. “Really bad. A dead girl, and two teenagers who drank themselves into a coma.”

Christoph didn’t bother with a cliché like “Oh God, I’m sorry.” Instead, he asked, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Yeah, a nice cold beer would hit the spot about now, even though I was once again reminded this evening that alcohol doesn’t solve any problems, only creates them.”

She was about to get up, but Christoph shook his head.

“Stay there. I’ll get it for you.”

He put down the meat forks, covered the roasts, and turned down the temperature of the gas oven. Then he took two bottles of beer out of the fridge and opened them.

“Glass?”

“No. Not necessary.”

Christoph handed Pia a bottle and sat down next to her at the table.

“Thanks.” She took a big swig. “I’m afraid you’ll have to pick up Lilly by yourself tomorrow. Since there’s nobody else at the office, I’ll have to go to the autopsy. Sorry.”

The next day, Christoph’s seven-year-old granddaughter was arriving from Australia to stay at Birkenhof for four weeks. When Pia learned of the plan a couple of weeks before, she hadn’t been especially enthusiastic. She and Christoph both had full-time jobs, and they couldn’t leave a small child alone in the house. What upset her most was the selfishness of Lilly’s mother, Anna, Christoph’s second-eldest daughter. Anna’s companion and father of the little girl was a marine biologist, and he’d taken over the leadership of a research expedition in Antarctica that spring. Anna wanted to go with him, but it was impossible to take a school-age child along. At that time, Christoph had turned down her request to take care of Lilly, saying that she was the mother and was responsible for her daughter, so she would have to forgo the trip. Anna had begged desperately, until Christoph and Pia finally agreed on a compromise. They would take care of the girl during the two weeks of Australian winter vacation. Anna was the only one of Christoph’s three daughters whom Pia didn’t particularly like, and she wasn’t surprised when the two weeks turned into four. Anna had pulled one of her tricks with Lilly’s school and arranged a leave of absence for her daughter. Typical. So once again, she’d been successful at getting her way.

“That’s no problem.” He reached out and stroked Pia’s cheek. “What happened?”

“It’s all a bit mysterious.” She took another swallow of beer. “A sixteen-year-old boy who’s in a coma after an orgy of drinking, and a young girl we fished out of the Main. She must have been in the river for a long time, because her body had been run over and partially shredded by the screws of an outboard motor.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It was, believe me. We have no idea who the girl is. There’s no missing person’s report that fits her description.”

For a while, they sat at the kitchen table, drinking beer without talking. That was one of the many traits that Pia loved about Christoph. Not only did she find it easy to talk to him but they could also sit in silence without feeling uncomfortable. He always knew when she wanted to talk about something or when she simply needed his silent company.

“It’s already two o’clock.” Pia got up. “I think I’ll jump in the shower and then go to bed.”

“I’ll be finished here soon.” Christoph stood up, too. “I just have to clean up the kitchen.”

Pia grabbed his wrist, and he stopped and looked at her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“What for?”

“For being you.”

He smiled. She loved the way he smiled.

“That’s all I have to give,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled up to him and felt his lips on her hair. And for a moment, everything was all right.

*   *   *

“We’re going to Uncle Richard’s, just you and me,” said Papa, motioning her over. “Then you can ride the pony and open your presents.”

Oh yes, she wanted to ride the pony! And all by herself with Papa, without Mama and her brothers and sisters! She was happy and excited. She’d been to Uncle Richard’s only a couple of times with Papa, but it was strange that she couldn’t quite remember the house or the ponies. She was looking forward to it immensely, because Papa was also taking along the lovely new dress that she had tried on but never worn until now.

She looked at herself in the mirror, touched her fingertips to the little red hood on her head, and laughed. The dress was a real dirndl, with a short skirt and apron. Papa had plaited her hair into two braids, and she really looked exactly like Little Red Riding Hood in her fairy-tale book.

He always brought presents—it was a secret that she and Papa shared, because he never brought anything for the others. Only for her. She was his favorite. Mama had gone away with her siblings, so Papa had her all to himself.

“Did you bring something for me?” she asked curiously, because the big paper shopping bag was still bulging.

“Of course.” He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Here, do you want to take a look?”

She nodded eagerly. He took another dress out of the paper bag. It was red, and the material felt cool and very soft under her fingers.

“A princess dress for my little princess,” he said. “And I bought you some matching shoes, too. Red ones.”

“Oh, awesome! Can I peek?”

“No, later. We have to go. Uncle Richard is waiting for us.”

She let him pick her up, snuggling close. She loved his deep voice and the scent of pipe tobacco on his clothes.

A little later, they were sitting in his car. They drove for quite a while, and she got excited whenever she saw something she recognized. It was a game that she always played with Papa when they were together on a secret outing. That’s what he called it, because she couldn’t tell her siblings, or they’d be jealous.

Finally, the road came to an end after passing through the woods to a clearing where there was a big wooden house with a porch and green shutters.

“That looks just like the one in my fairy-tale book!” she cried excitedly, and she was delighted to see the ponies in the meadow in front of the house.

“Can I take a ride now?” She was fidgeting on the seat.

“Of course.” Papa laughed and parked the Mercedes next to a couple of other cars. There was always something going on at Uncle Richard’s, and that made her happy, too, because they were all friends of Papa and had brought presents and candy for her.

She got out of the car and ran over to the ponies, who let her pet them. Uncle Richard came out and asked which pony she wanted to ride. She liked the white one the best. His name was Fluff; she remembered that now. How sad that she knew the pony’s name but couldn’t remember anything about what the house looked like inside.

After half an hour, they went inside. Papa’s and Uncle Richard’s friends were there. They all said a cheerful hello and admired her dirndl and red hood. She turned around to show it off and laughed.