returned her smile. “Oliver von Bodenstein, from Kripo Hofheim. My colleague, Pia Kirchhoff.”
“So you’re the talented son-in-law of my dear friend Gabriela,” she said, scrutinizing him. “She always speaks of you with the greatest respect. I hope my present on the birth of your little daughter met with approval?”
“But of course. Thank you so much.” For the life of him, Bodenstein couldn’t recall any present from Vera Kaltensee when Sophia was born, but he assumed that Cosima had acknowledged it appropriately with a thank-you note.
“Good day, Ms. Kirchhoff,” Dr. Vera Kaltensee said, turning to Pia and taking her hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
She leaned forward a bit.
“I’ve never met such a pretty policewoman. What lovely blue eyes you have, my dear!”
Pia, who usually reacted suspiciously to such compliments, actually felt flattered and gave an embarrassed laugh. She’d expected to be looked down on by this prominent and extremely rich woman, or ignored entirely. So she was pleasantly surprised at how normal and unpretentious Vera Kaltensee seemed.
“But please do come in.” The old lady took Pia’s arm as though they were old friends and led her into a salon whose walls were covered with Flemish tapestries. In front of the massive marble fireplace stood three easy chairs and a coffee table, which, in spite of their plain appearance, were probably worth more than all the furniture Pia had at Birkenhof. Vera Kaltensee showed her to an easy chair.
“Please have a seat,” she said kindly. “May I offer you coffee or some refreshment?”
Bodenstein declined politely. “No thanks.” It was easier to announce a person’s death while standing than while drinking a cup of coffee.
“All right, then. What brings you here? It’s not a purely courtesy call, I suppose?” Vera Kaltensee was still smiling, but an anxious look appeared in her eyes.
“Unfortunately, no,” Bodenstein admitted.
The smile vanished from the old woman’s face. All at once, she seemed helpless, in a touching sort of way. She sat down in one of the easy chairs and stared at Bodenstein expectantly, like a schoolgirl looking up at her teacher.
“This morning, we were called to the scene where the body of Herrmann Schneider had been found. In his house, we found indications that he knew you; that’s why we’re here.”
“Goodness gracious,” Vera Kaltensee whispered in shock, her face as pale as chalk. She dropped her cane, and the fingers of her right hand closed around the medallion on her necklace. “How did he … I mean … what … what happened?”
“He was shot to death in his house.” Bodenstein picked up the cane and tried to hand it to her, but she ignored his gesture. “We presume that it was the same perpetrator who killed David Goldberg.”
“Oh no.” Vera Kaltensee stifled a sigh and pressed a hand to her mouth. Tears came to her eyes and ran down her wrinkled cheeks. Pia gave her boss a reproachful look, to which he responded by briefly raising his eyebrows. She knelt down in front of Vera Kaltensee and put her hand sympathetically on the old woman’s.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “Shall I get you a glass of water?”
Vera Kaltensee struggled to compose herself and smiled through her tears.
“Thank you, my dear,” she whispered. “That would be very kind of you. There’s probably a carafe over there on the sideboard.”
Pia got up. She found various spirits and upside-down glasses on the sideboard. Vera Kaltensee smiled gratefully when Pia handed her a glass of water, and she took a sip.
“May we ask you a few questions, or would you rather we postpone it to some other time?” Pia asked.
“No, no. It’s all … Now is fine.” Vera Kaltensee conjured an apple blossom white handkerchief from the pocket of her knit cashmere jacket, dabbed at her eyes, and blew her nose. “It’s just such a shock to get news like this. Herrmann is … I
“So you’re the talented son-in-law of my dear friend Gabriela,” she said, scrutinizing him. “She always speaks of you with the greatest respect. I hope my present on the birth of your little daughter met with approval?”
“But of course. Thank you so much.” For the life of him, Bodenstein couldn’t recall any present from Vera Kaltensee when Sophia was born, but he assumed that Cosima had acknowledged it appropriately with a thank-you note.
“Good day, Ms. Kirchhoff,” Dr. Vera Kaltensee said, turning to Pia and taking her hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
She leaned forward a bit.
“I’ve never met such a pretty policewoman. What lovely blue eyes you have, my dear!”
Pia, who usually reacted suspiciously to such compliments, actually felt flattered and gave an embarrassed laugh. She’d expected to be looked down on by this prominent and extremely rich woman, or ignored entirely. So she was pleasantly surprised at how normal and unpretentious Vera Kaltensee seemed.
“But please do come in.” The old lady took Pia’s arm as though they were old friends and led her into a salon whose walls were covered with Flemish tapestries. In front of the massive marble fireplace stood three easy chairs and a coffee table, which, in spite of their plain appearance, were probably worth more than all the furniture Pia had at Birkenhof. Vera Kaltensee showed her to an easy chair.
“Please have a seat,” she said kindly. “May I offer you coffee or some refreshment?”
Bodenstein declined politely. “No thanks.” It was easier to announce a person’s death while standing than while drinking a cup of coffee.
“All right, then. What brings you here? It’s not a purely courtesy call, I suppose?” Vera Kaltensee was still smiling, but an anxious look appeared in her eyes.
“Unfortunately, no,” Bodenstein admitted.
The smile vanished from the old woman’s face. All at once, she seemed helpless, in a touching sort of way. She sat down in one of the easy chairs and stared at Bodenstein expectantly, like a schoolgirl looking up at her teacher.
“This morning, we were called to the scene where the body of Herrmann Schneider had been found. In his house, we found indications that he knew you; that’s why we’re here.”
“Goodness gracious,” Vera Kaltensee whispered in shock, her face as pale as chalk. She dropped her cane, and the fingers of her right hand closed around the medallion on her necklace. “How did he … I mean … what … what happened?”
“He was shot to death in his house.” Bodenstein picked up the cane and tried to hand it to her, but she ignored his gesture. “We presume that it was the same perpetrator who killed David Goldberg.”
“Oh no.” Vera Kaltensee stifled a sigh and pressed a hand to her mouth. Tears came to her eyes and ran down her wrinkled cheeks. Pia gave her boss a reproachful look, to which he responded by briefly raising his eyebrows. She knelt down in front of Vera Kaltensee and put her hand sympathetically on the old woman’s.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “Shall I get you a glass of water?”
Vera Kaltensee struggled to compose herself and smiled through her tears.
“Thank you, my dear,” she whispered. “That would be very kind of you. There’s probably a carafe over there on the sideboard.”
Pia got up. She found various spirits and upside-down glasses on the sideboard. Vera Kaltensee smiled gratefully when Pia handed her a glass of water, and she took a sip.
“May we ask you a few questions, or would you rather we postpone it to some other time?” Pia asked.
“No, no. It’s all … Now is fine.” Vera Kaltensee conjured an apple blossom white handkerchief from the pocket of her knit cashmere jacket, dabbed at her eyes, and blew her nose. “It’s just such a shock to get news like this. Herrmann is … I
Similar Books
