Dead Woods - maria c. poets Page 0,92

hint that those protocols don’t prove that Daniel was logged in.”

“Oh,” Max said. “Is it that easy to manipulate them?”

The woman laughed. She had a pleasant, warm alto voice, and

there was none of the mockery in her laughter that Daniel Vogler

infused into his. “It’s not child’s play, necessarily, but it seems to me you forgot with whom we’re dealing here. Daniel Vogler is the ultimate pro. He wouldn’t have the slightest difficulty manipulating the protocols to create an alibi for himself.” She paused. “If he should ever need one.”

Lina had gotten up early enough to have her first cup of coffee with milk at home. So she was in a good mood when she ambled along

the small side street in Eimsbüttel at nine in the morning. The sun

was shining and she admired the beautiful, old houses, most of which looked as if they were freshly painted. The district around Osterstrasse used to be quite frumpy, but it had picked up considerably in the past few years. People who couldn’t afford or who weren’t willing to pay

the horrific rents in Eppendorf or in the Schanzenviertel had moved

here, into those magnificent Art Nouveau bourgeois buildings on

Eichestrasse or into less elaborate old buildings on surrounding streets.

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The result was that by now it was almost equally impossible to find

affordable housing in this area.

Barbara Schönbek’s naturopathic practice was located in the base-

ment of an old building with a tiny but lovingly maintained front garden. Lina had called ahead, and so the door was opened by a smiling

woman of about forty as soon as she rang. They shook hands. The

practitioner led Lina into a room that was empty except for two com-

fortable chairs and a small table on which there was a lit candle. The window to the street was covered with rice paper, and one corner of

the room was pleasantly lit by a standing lamp. The room smelled of

fresh mint.

Barbara Schönbek had prepared some herbal tea, which would

have made Max happy, but which Lina accepted only because it was

the polite thing to do. She pretended to sip it.

“Have you found Franka—I mean Frau Leyhausen?” Barbara

Schönbek asked before Lina had put down the cup so that she could

forget about it for the rest of the conversation. Lina scrutinized the woman who looked at her expectantly: large brown eyes, a high forehead, thick black hair, a small face, and slender fingers. She was beautiful, but Lina also saw that she was exhausted. Now she looked worried.

“Did something happen to her?”

Lina nodded. “Frau Schönbek, your friend is unfortunately no

longer alive.”

The woman covered her mouth with both hands, and her eyes were

wet with tears within seconds. She looked at Lina as if she hoped she might have misheard.

“She was found dead in Jenisch Park yesterday morning, but she

probably died on Tuesday night.”

Barbara Schönbek now covered her entire face with her hands and

bent over as if she were trying to protect herself against invisible blows.

Lina heard her sob quietly and looked on with empathy. She fished a

packet of tissues from her knapsack and held it out to her.

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“Thank you,” Frau Schönbek said, sniffled, and blew her nose. “To

be honest, I was almost prepared for this news.” She clasped the tissue in both hands as if it were lending her support. “Franka was wiped out!

Depressed! I’d never known her like that.” She cried out, “I should have canceled that stupid appointment on Tuesday; then she wouldn’t have

killed herself.”

Lina frowned. “But she didn’t kill herself,” she said. “Your friend

was killed.”

Barbara Schönbek lifted her head. “What?”

Lina nodded. “We don’t yet have the results of the autopsy, but in

all probability she was strangled.”

“Strangled . . . Oh, god!” Barbara Schönbek jumped up, one hand

pressed against her mouth. “Please excuse me.” She ran out of the room and soon afterward Lina could hear her throwing up in the bathroom.

The woman seemed to be very sensitive, and Lina remembered Franka

Leyhausen mentioning that her friend suffered from Crohn’s disease.

Didn’t that affect one’s stomach and intestines?

She heard the flushing of the toilet, the splashing of water, and

then Frau Schönbek returned. “I’m sorry. I’m hypersensitive and bad

news immediately affects my stomach.” She raised her shoulders. “I

can’t control it.”

Lina waited until the woman had sat down again and then asked,

“How close were you with Frau Leyhausen?”

Barbara Schönbek again blew her nose and then took a deep

breath. “We were very good friends. I don’t know whether we were

best friends, but close to that. We met at the university.” When she saw the question in Lina’s look, she said,