Page 21 of Anatomy of a Killer
Michelle nods. ‘Marcus was an odd guy, highly educated, very polite and obliging, but. . . hmm.’ She thinks for a moment, as if she doesn’t know exactly where to begin. ‘So, he was a site manager, in a completely different league from my ex, who was just a simple labourer. Despite this, he was crazy about Rainer, desperate to be friends with him. Rainer used to be very sociable and was always a happy soul. Marcus must have liked this and Rainer loved the attention. It wasn’t long before he brought Marcus home, and he was. . .’– she appears to be searching for the right words– ‘so eerily perfect.’ She nods in satisfaction. ‘Yes, there’s no other way to describe it. For each of us, he seemed to be exactly what we needed at any moment, able to switch roles at the press of a button. With Rainer, he drank beer and told dirty jokes, only to appear in the kitchen a few minutes later and lend a hand with the cooking. He helped Larissa with her homework or rocked Toby in his baby bouncer. In time, he started paying for stuff. To begin with, it was just bits of shopping, like when he’d noticed we were running out of milk or beer. Later he paid for Rainer’s car to be repaired– actually Rainer borrowed the money from him, but Marcus refused to be paid back and got really angry when Rainer tried to do so.’
‘Didn’t you think it weird that a stranger suddenly muscled his way into your life?’
Michelle sighs. ‘In retrospect, yes. But at the time. . . somehow we just got used to it; it became totally normal. Especially as we never had much money and were for ever having to budget. Marcus’s contributions were very welcome indeed.’ She looks at me. ‘That sounds like he had to pay for our friendship. But it wasn’t like that. We never made any demands or asked him for anything. He just did it as a matter of course, as if he really was a member of our family.’
‘Didn’t he have any family himself?’
Michelle bursts out laughing. ‘Now we’re getting to the nub of it. Marcus came round to ours almost every day after work, but he rarely stayed later than eight o’clock. You could set your watch by it, for at that time the calls would begin. We would hear him try to placate his wife, who clearly wanted him to come home. He told us he was married and had a daughter too. But Rainer and I felt that things weren’t great at home, at least as far as his marriage was concerned. Once when I talked to Marcus about the situation, he showed me a photograph of him with his family, looking very happy, which was at odds with the phone calls, and especially with the fact that he was always at ours rather than at home. But I didn’t say anything, and Rainer thought it was just a male thing. Then came the evening when Marcus left punctually but forgot his mobile in our flat. Rainer decided to drive it over to his. He knew where Marcus lived because he’d dropped him off there once. A nice little house in Lichtenberg, a bit old-fashioned, with a garden complete with gnomes, that sort of thing. So Rainer went there, but rather than Marcus opening the door, it was a grumpy old woman. Marcus still lived with his mum, you see, and she kept him on a short leash. There was no wife and daughter. It was the mother who always rang when he was late. At that moment, Rainer lost all respect for Marcus, but I sort of felt sorry for him. He must have spent his whole life in his brother’s shadow– at least that was the impression Rainer got from chatting to the mother. Every sentence she began with Marcus ended in a comparison with his brother, and Marcus never came off well. Sure, his brother had an even better job, his own house and a real family. But ultimately it was Marcus who gave up so much to look after their mother. I understood why he liked talking to people about a life he wasn’t leading. I mean, imagine it. He’d even shown me a photo of what he claimed to be him and his family! As it turned out, the photo was actually of his brother with wife and child.’ Michelle shakes her head. ‘But I don’t need to spell all of this out, do I? You ought to know what it’s like when reality is so hard to bear that you begin inventing a different life for yourself.’ Touché– I look at the floor. Luckily Michelle doesn’t prolong this uncomfortable moment any longer, and continues, ‘I felt sorry for him, yes, I felt really sorry for him. So I invited him to my birthday party, but that day something happened. Rainer caught Marcus brushing Larissa’s hair on her bed. That was weird enough in itself! She was also telling him she was upset because yet another baby was on the way and she already got so little attention because of Toby. Marcus told her she didn’t need to worry, he would look after her if necessary. Rainer blew his top. He threw Marcus out of the flat and forbade him from ever turning up here again.’
‘And after that you didn’t have any more contact with him?’
‘Well. . . in the first couple of weeks after my party, we saw him a few times through the kitchen window,’ Michelle says, pointing over her shoulder. ‘He was hanging around outside and occasionally he’d leave chocolates or flowers at the door.’ She shakes her head. ‘That stopped a good while before Larissa went missing. But Rainer was obsessed by the idea that Marcus could have something to do with her death. When, in 2005, the body of another small girl was found– as it happened, on a construction site where Rainer and Marcus had worked together a few years earlier– that was that, as far as my husband was concerned. It couldn’t be a coincidence.’
‘But you thought it could?’ I ask doubtfully, and the only answer I get is a scornful look. I suppose only ten minutes ago I was the one trying to convince Michelle of another crazy coincidence. ‘I’m only saying because—’
‘It’s all right,’ she interrupts me. ‘Of course I thought it was strange to begin with. But Marcus had a watertight alibi for this too. Rainer’s refusal to believe it saw him end up in prison for GBH. Which left me sitting there with two small children– and without my Larissa.’ An awkward smile darts across her face. ‘You know, I wasn’t a particularly good mum to her. And not just because I let her get abducted and killed.’ Again she points over her shoulder, towards the hallway. ‘The last photo I took of her was on her first day at school, more than three years before her death. But I just took it for granted that she was there, and then I met Rainer and, well, you know. It was wonderful to be newly in love again, after Larissa’s father had dumped me soon after she was born. With Rainer I had the chance to start from scratch again. We got married quickly.’ Another brief smile, then she looks bitter. ‘I had to get the photo the police used for their search from my parents. Can you believe that? What sort of a mother am I who has to phone around when she’s asked for an up-to-date picture of her daughter? But you wouldn’t know about that.’
‘No,’ I say quietly.
‘No,’ Michelle echoes. ‘You know nothing about motherhood, nothing at all. He slit her wrist. But because she was the first and there were so few clues pointing towards a violent crime, for a long time the police entertained the theory that she might have done it herself. How bad must a ten-year-old’s home life be if she commits suicide? That’s the sort of question they ask you, and they treat you like a monster. They even look into whether the other two children are okay and whether they might not be better off in a foster family.’
‘I can understand you’re angry, Michelle.’
‘No, after fourteen years, I’m not angry anymore. I’m just tired, in every respect. I always thought I’d want to look the killer in the eye and ask him why he took my girl. Now that I know Larissa was only one of many, just a child who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I realise I wouldn’t get a satisfactory answer. They should put him away for the rest of his life so that more children don’t die, nor their families in a different way.’ She gives me a searching look. ‘But it makes no difference if I tell you this or not. You can’t understand it because you’re not a mother. You only said you were one to get a job at Big Murphy’s and wangle sympathy from your colleagues.’
I nod, embarrassed. Michelle’s probably had enough of me being here so I’ve got to get more information out of her as quickly as possible. ‘Do you think I could have a word with your ex-husband?’
‘Rainer?’ The noise she makes is something in between amusement and resignation. ‘He’s been drinking himself stupid these last few years. Every time the boys come back from him unscathed, I’m delighted. I’d happily give you his address. But I doubt you’ll hear more from him than his absurd conspiracy theories about how sloppy the police were.’ Getting up from the arm of the sofa, she goes over to a chest of drawers and takes out a notepad and pen.
‘What about Marcus Steinhausen? The police file says he moved away, but doesn’t give his new address.’
‘No idea.’ Michelle laughs. ‘But I bet Rainer’s got a few theories about that too.’ She turns around and holds out a piece of paper with her ex-husband’s address. But when I try to take it she doesn’t let go. ‘I don’t want to condemn your father before he’s found guilty, Ann. But if it was him who did it, he can only hope he’s locked away for the rest of his life.’
Is that supposed to be a threat? I open my mouth, but don’t have the courage to ask.
Then Michelle does let go and immediately gives me a hug.
‘Be careful, girl,’ she whispers in my ear. ‘It’s a dangerous world out there.’
Us
Good morning, princess! Did you sleep well? I’ve been up a long time– I was tormented by a bad dream. I was running through the woods, looking for you everywhere. I was calling your name, so distraught that my voice cracked and tears were streaming down my face. I knew you just wanted to play hide-and-seek, but I couldn’t find you until I came to a clearing. People were there, walkers and a hunter with a shotgun. They stood, heads bowed, in a circle around something. Aroundsomebody. I knew at once that something bad must have happened, something to do with me. I pushed my way through the people and saw you there, lying on your back, arms outstretched like wings, your palms facing upwards. Your body was untouched and as beautiful as ever, but your eyes, princess. Your eyes were two black holes with worms crawling out of them. I sank to my knees. My tears ran and I touched my face. But they weren’t tears, they were worms, like the ones on your face. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out, only black butterflies. At this point I woke up. What was that, princess? A dark premonition? A warning? I realise more clearly now that we have to safeguard our happiness. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, do you hear me? Nobody’s ever going to separate us again. Here, my sweetheart, take Cosmo and your fairy-tale book with the pretty pictures. That’ll keep you occupied till I’m back. We’ll do what we usually do when I leave the house: we’ll lock you securely in your room and I’ll take the key with me. It’s better that way, sweetheart, you know that. We’ll lock you away like valuable treasure in the safe. And you’ve got to be a very good girl, okay? I can’t say how long I’ll be. Or even if it’ll work tonight. It’s still Christmas, after all, when people stay at home playing families. Even those that aren’t really proper families. Oh, they make me sick, I hate them so much! I’d rather not think about it as it only makes me furious. Can I have a cuddle? Yes, that’s good– you see, I’m calming down already, I’m already feeling better. And maybe we’ll be lucky, maybe itwillwork today. If it does, that’s your Christmas present from me: your new best friend Sarah. Isn’t it exciting? I just hope she’s as well behaved as you when I get her. Just imagine if she started screaming and kicking because she wasn’t so quick to understand how lucky she was. Yes, that would be a real shame, especially for her.
Ann
Berlin, 26 December 2017
We’re on our way to Rainer Meller’s place in Marzahn. Outside, the Landsberger Chaussee flies past, almost entirely swallowed up this morning by the grey fumes from laundry extractors. It’s hard to identify the street signs, tower blocks and trees on either side of the road, and it’s only possible at all if you’re familiar with the area. It seems almost symbolic. Like my father’s innocence, shrouded by a thick fog of prejudice, police ignorance and his own silence. But I know these streets and, more importantly, I know you, Dad. I know that the truth lies behind the fog.
‘Marcus Steinhausen told Larissa he’d look after her.’
Eva sighs. ‘My God, sounds like a total loser with an excessive longing for family.’
‘Or a deranged paedophile!’
‘The children weren’t sexually abused.’
‘That doesn’t mean he didn’t intend to when he kidnapped them!’
