The Ice Queen: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

old woman; you all know everything there is to know about me anyway.”
    As expected, there was a brief surge of laughter. But before Vera could go on, the door opened. A man entered and stood discreetly at the back of the room. Without her glasses, Vera couldn’t tell who it was. To her dismay, she broke out in a cold sweat and her knees felt wobbly. Could that be Thomas? Did he really have the nerve to show up here today?
    “Is something wrong, Mother?” asked Siegbert softly.
    She shook her head emphatically and quickly reached for her glass. “It’s so lovely to have you all here with me today!” she said. At the same time, she racked her brain about what to do if that man really was Thomas. “Cheers!”
    “Three cheers for Mama!” Jutta called out, raising her glass. “Happy birthday!”
    They all raised their glasses and gave the guest of honor three cheers, while the man came over to stand next to Siegbert and cleared his throat. Her heart pounding, Vera turned her head. It was the manager of Schloss Bodenstein, not Thomas! She was relieved and disappointed simultaneously, and annoyed by the intensity of her emotions. The French doors of the great hall opened, and the waiters of the Schlosshotel marched in to serve the main course.
    “Excuse me for disturbing you,” Vera heard the man say softly to her son. “I have a message for you.”
    “Thank you.” Siegbert took the note and unfolded it. Vera saw the blood drain from his face.
    “What is it?” she asked in alarm. “What does it say?”
    Siegbert looked up.
    “A message from Uncle Jossi’s housekeeper.” His voice was toneless. “I’m so sorry, Mother. Especially today. Uncle Jossi is dead.”
    *   *   *
    Chief Commissioner Dr. Heinrich Nierhoff was not content to summon Bodenstein to his office in order to emphasize his authority as usual. Instead, he went into the conference room of K-11, where Chief Detective Inspector Kai Ostermann and Detective Assistant Kathrin Fachinger were preparing for a hastily scheduled meeting. After Pia Kirchhoff had called everyone that morning, they canceled their plans for the weekend and came in to K-11. On the still-empty whiteboard in the big conference room, Fachinger had printed GOLDBERG in her neat handwriting, and next to it the mysterious number 11645.
    “What’s up, Bodenstein?” asked Nierhoff. At first glance, the leader of the Regional Criminal Unit seemed unremarkable; a stocky man in his mid-fifties, graying at the temples, a small mustache, and bland facial features. But this first impression was deceptive. Nierhoff was extremely ambitious and possessed a sure political instinct. For months, rumors had been flying that sooner or later he would be exchanging his chief’s position in the Regional Criminal Unit for the county manager post in Darmstadt. Bodenstein invited his boss into his office and informed him tersely of the murder of David Goldberg. Nierhoff listened in silence and said nothing when Bodenstein was done. At the police station, it was well known that the chief commissioner loved the limelight and enjoyed holding press conferences in the grand manner. Ever since the media circus surrounding the suicide of Chief District Attorney Hardenbach two years before, no one of such prominence had been murdered in the Main-Taunus district. Bodenstein, who had actually expected that Nierhoff would be excited at the prospect of a storm of clicking digital cameras, was a bit surprised by his boss’s restrained reaction.
    “This could turn into a tricky situation.” The noncommittal amiable expression that Commissioner Nierhoff normally wore had vanished, and the crafty tactician now came to the fore. “An American citizen of the Jewish faith and a survivor of the Holocaust executed with a shot to the back of the head. For the time being, we should keep the press and the public out of it.”
    Bodenstein nodded in agreement.
    “I expect you to conduct the investigation with the