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“Hold up a minute.” The officer raises his hands in a placating gesture. “We just need some information.”
“What do you want to know?” When Philip leans against me, I moan suppressed.
Hellaattacks him head-on. “Why did you disregard the mortician’s instructions?”
Aha! That’s how the land lies!“I thought we weren’t accused of anything?” I turn to her colleague.
He shrugs. “No criminal offense, not even a misdemeanor.” He lets his lurking gaze wander from me to Philipp and back again. “But of course, it’s of interest to us why your companion did this.”
“Curiosity,” I suggest. “Sensation mongering.”
“We’re not asking this on a whim…” the von-der-Sinnen imitation interjects. “…but for tactically investigation-wise reasons.”
“Investigations?”That does it!Angrily, I turn to the male officer. “I thought we weren’t accused of anything?”
“Marita…” he says, agonized, grabbing his forehead. “Slow down…” Then he forces himself to smile sparingly for me. “We’re supposed to record the personal details of everyone who attends the funeral—and, if possible, find out right away where they were at the time of the crime.”
Before I can object again, Philipp pulls out his wallet. “Ms. Lechner is only accompanying me.” He fumbles out his ID and hands it to the policeman.
“Sandtmann?” he reads it and gives his colleague a meaningful look. Then he turns the card over. “Residing in 74821 Mosbach… Where the hell is that?”
“Zip code seven…?” The Hella copycat scratches her shaved-out sides. “Isn’t that in the south? Swabia?”
The policeman transfers the data onto a sheet of his notepad, then hands Philipp back his ID card. Then he turns to me. “And what about you?”
“Celine Lechner, same address,” I put on record in scanty words. “I left my purse in the truck. If you insist, I can…”
“No, no. It’s okay…” He turns his attention to Philipp. “And exactly where were you at the time of the crime?”
Before Philipp can say anything, I butt in. “For that, we’d first have to know when the crime happened.” Even though I’ve never dealt with the police before, that much I’ve picked up while watching crime shows: Anyone who knows the time without being told is outed as the perpetrator.
The corner of the officer’s mouth twitches slightly. I tell myself it’s out of appreciation. “Late in the evening, or rather early in the night of February fourteenth to fifteenth. Valentine’s Day—that means more to most. Time window: between 11 p.m. and two in the morning.”
“Which takes us off the hook…” I explain. “The last guests from Philipp’s birthday party went home around half past twelve. After that, we tidied up together…” I pull out my phone, unlock it, and search the social media app for photos I took that night. “In case you don’t believe me, here are the fifty or so witnesses. We can dig up their names for you if you need them.”
“That…” The policewoman silently moves her lips and stares at my display with an almost disappointed face. “That couldn’t have been done given the distance.”
Her colleague shows better manners. “That probably won’t be necessary, thank you very much. Which reminds me… have you set the photos topublic? Then I could forward them to the prosecutor’s office that way…”
I change the setting and show the officer the result.
He nods.
“Can we go now?” I ask, grabbing Philipp’s arm again.
“From my side, yes,” the policeman answers. “Do you have any more questions, Marita?”
“Nah,” the Hella-von-Sinnen lookalike says, even more brashly than her role model.
“Goodbye and have a nice day!” I say with as much irony as possible. Then I pull Philipp along with me. As pale as he is, he should definitely sit down.
“Fucking hell!” He fans himself with his hat. “Did I just imagine that? Were we both suspected of having her…?” He shakes his head.
“Are you going to make a disciplinary complaint?” I inquire. “I remembered his name: Andreas Bergmann.”
Philipp waves it off. “It’s not worth it…”
We finally reach the bench. With a sigh, I let myself sink onto the slats. “Come on, let’s take a breath…”
