Trixie Trulla Kills Big Dörte · Chapter 9
Viktor Voss received Inspector Martens in the library of his care home. He sat in a wheelchair, wore a bespoke suit and regarded the world with the mild superiority some people develop after escaping accountability for long enough.
“Dolly,” he said. “A charming woman. A little indiscreet.”
“You knew her as Dörte Renner.”
“People have different names at different times of life.”
“And different balance sheets?”
Voss smiled. “You are young.”
Martens was forty-six. She recognised the sentence as a diversion and allowed it to starve.
The documents showed that Voss’s company had used inferior concrete in several houses and concealed moisture damage. Trixie’s house was one of them. The extensive need for renovation had not arisen after the purchase. It had been systematically understated in earlier sales.
Dörte had telephoned Voss and threatened to release the papers.
“Why?”
“Perhaps she wanted money.”
“Did she ask for money?”
“Not explicitly.”
“What did she demand?”
Voss looked towards the window. “That I pay for the damage to the house.”
“That doesn’t sound like blackmail.”
“It sounded very much like blackmail.”
“Because you were expected to pay?”
“Because she raised her voice.”
Voss had an alibi. On the night of the death, he had been in hospital with an irregular heartbeat. So had his former managing director: he had been dead for three years. No professional killer could be discovered among Voss’s contacts or in his accounts.
The old account explained Dörte’s behaviour, but not her death.
It also explained why Dörte had asked about the purchase price. She had not merely been curious. Or at least, not merely in the ordinary, socially accepted fashion. When she heard that Trixie had paid a million euros and was now expected to spend a further substantial sum on renovations, something stirred within her that she had long and successfully concealed beneath her chatter: a conscience.
She wanted to help.
Naturally, she had revealed the secret at the same time. Human beings are rarely made from a single piece.
Inspector Martens ordered a technical survey of the house. The Building Control Office was notified. A public prosecutor began taking an interest in old corporate connections. Viktor Voss lost his smile.
The neighbourhood, however, regarded this as a diversionary manoeuvre.
“The police are following a property lead now,” said Frau Knobloch. “Typical.”
“Typical of whom?”
“The police.”
“And Trixie?”
“Remains under suspicion. Especially now that she is no longer suspected.”
A theory that converts every counterexample into confirmation is admirably well protected from reality. Its only minor disadvantage is that it tells us nothing about it.
