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The Indian menu also includes pizzas, kebabs, and burgers. Very confidence-inspiring. Yasira only orders a portion of samosas. She doesn’t have much of an appetite. For her, food is mostly just a necessity for survival.
While waiting for their order, Yasira checks her emails. Timo has written. There are so many tips from the public that he can hardly keep up with coordinating them. Unfortunately, all the leads that police officers could follow up on so far turned out to be some form of “I’m sorry, but to me all the Black people look alike” or similar prejudices. Nevertheless, he keeps at it, of course.
Yasira asks him for Lena’s movement profile from her cell phone provider.
“Give me another twenty minutes,” is his short reply.
Yasira clicks on the next email. The two Katjas have already gone through the class chat and have initial results. Some classmates made references to drug use in connection with Lena. A lead that they will have to follow up anyway. Is it “just” about the weed they found in Lena’s room? Or what kind of drugs are we talking about? And who did she get them from? Obviously, Lena’s classmates didn’t tell them everything they knew during the questioning at school. Understandable. Who likes to confess to the police that they smoke weed? But if Yasira were to ask them directly, perhaps something else would come to light. And then there’s the conversation about a party three weeks ago. One of the boys—someone named Robert—had written: “Lena’s definitely not coming. She’s probably going back to her pedo.”
The generous interpretation is that Lena’s boyfriend is named Pedro, and Robert simply dropped ther.
But more likely, there’s a rumor buzzing around Lena’s class that her boyfriend is clearly way too old for her.
THE BOYFRIEND
While Michael is still battling his chicken, Yasira receives an email with Lena’s movement profile from the past four weeks. Along with the detailed call log. Thankfully, Timo has already processed both. There was one particular route that Lena repeatedly traveled after school. The destination was Heimstedt, a village about eighteen kilometers from Halberstadt. Eighteen? One and eight, A and H. No, no. You shouldn’t go crazy. If you want to see a conspiracy, you’ll see it everywhere. The number Lena called most frequently belongs to a Justus Schöffler. Registered address in Heimstedt. Well, if that isn’t Lena’s mysterious boyfriend.
Yasira tells her colleague about it.
“Bingo,” is all Michael says.
After lunch, they set off immediately. The main road toward Heimstedt is mostly dead straight and offers somewhat tiring views of farmland to the left and right.
Schöffler lives in a large single-family home that has seen better days. They don’t want to scare him off too soon, so Michael drives past the house, turns around and then parks some distance away. The road curves slightly, giving them a good view of the whole property from their current position. At the front is a neglected garden. At the back, a chain-link fence separates Schöffler’s land from a wild meadow. It slopes slightly upwards and leads to a forest. Yasira points to the trees. Michael nods.
“A forest,” he says. “Like in the video. But there’s forest everywhere.”
Yasira gets out and leads the way, Michael panting behind her. A rusty old Opel Corsa is parked in Schöffler’s driveway. Yasira takes photos of the car and its license plate.
Then she rings Schöffler’s doorbell. The young man who answers the door looks sleepy. But he suddenly snaps to attention when Yasira shows him her badge.
He briefly tries to pretend to be surprised but Michael cuts the episode short by asking him at the front door: “Mr. Schöffler, what is your relationship to Lena Palmer?”
“I... what...?” he stammers.
“Mr. Schöffler,” says Yasira gently. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the terrible crime. Maybe even seen the video...”
“Either you talk to us here, or we’ll summon you to the station,” Michael snaps. Justus Schöffler looks at him, startled. It’s the old routine.Good cop, bad cop.But as long as it works, there’s no reason to change it.
“Why don’t we just take a seat in your kitchen?” Yasira asks in a friendly manner. “That would be best for everyone.”
Schöffler steps aside and makes way. Inside, there is a huge mess. The furniture looks a hundred years old. Schöffler probably inherited the house from his grandparents. Pizza boxes are lying around. Amazon packages. Beer bottles. A large flat screen sits enthroned on a desk. In front of it, a gaming chair like the one Zara’s cousin got for Christmas. Michael inhales noticeably through his nose. Yasira nods. From the smell of the apartment, she’d bet a month’s salary that the guy makes a living selling pot. Judging by the little luxury in his apartment, only on small scale and he’s probably his own best customer.
“Sorry,” says Schöffler. “You... you could have called, then I would have tidied up a bit.”
He leads the two investigators into his kitchen, where all three sit down at the dirty table.
“I... I mean... how... why me? I honestly don’t know what you want from me,” says Schöffler.
“Why are you lying to us, Mr. Schöffler?” Yasira replies calmly. “We have Lena’s movement data, and we know she was constantly on the phone with you.”
“You were with her,” Michael says sharply. “The longer you deny it, the more suspicious you make yourself!”
Schöffler’s expression completely collapses. Where just moments ago he had been trying to feign surprise and indifference, Yasira now sees pure despair.
“I... I...” He stammers something incomprehensible.
“Was Lena your girlfriend?” Yasira asks gently.
