Free Crime by Ferdinand von Schirach Page B

Germans solve every murder; you keep seeing it on television, she thought. Kalle would go to prison. A cell phone was ringing endlessly in the fat man’s jacket. She had to do something.
    She went into the kitchen and called the police. The men on duty could hardly understand a word she said. When they came, they looked into the bathroom and took her into custody. They asked where the body was, and Irina didn’t know what to reply. She kept saying the fat man had died “normally,” that it had been a “dead heart.” The police, naturally, didn’t believe her. As she was being taken out of the building, Kalle came riding up. She looked at him and shook her head. Kalle misunderstood, leapt off his bike, and ran to her. He stumbled. The police apprehended him, too. Later, he said it was fine, that he wouldn’t have known what to do without Irina anyway.
    Kalle remained silent. He had learned silence, and prison didn’t frighten him. He had been there more than once already—break-ins, thefts. He’d heard my name inside, and asked me to take on his defense. He wanted to know what was going on with Irina; he didn’t care about himself. He said he had no money but that I had to take care of his girlfriend.
    I knew if Kalle would testify, he’d be saved, but he was hard to convince. All he kept asking was if that wouldn’t damage Irina. He clutched at my forearms, trembled, said he didn’t want to make any mistakes. I calmed him down and promised I would find a lawyer for Irina. Finally, he agreed.
    He led the detectives to the hole in the city park and stood by as they dug up the fat man and sorted out the body parts. He also showed the police the place where he’d buried his dog. It was a misunderstanding. They also dug up the dog’s skeleton and looked at him questioningly.
    The forensic pathologist established that all the wounds had occurred after death. The fat man’s heart was examined. He had died of a heart attack; there was absolutely no question about it. The suspicion of murder had been eliminated.
    In the end, the only thing actionable was the dismemberment. The prosecutor considered a charge of disturbing the dead. The law states that it is forbidden to commit a “public nuisance” with a corpse. There was no doubt, said the prosecutor, that sawing up and burying a dead body constituted a public nuisance.
    The prosecutor was right. But that was not the issue. The only issue was the intention of the accused. Kalle’s goal was to save Irina, not to desecrate the body. “A public nuisance caused by love,” I said. I cited a decision of the federal court that justified Kalle’s actions. The prosecutor raised his eyebrows, but he closed the file.
    The arrests were nullified, and both were let go. With the help of a lawyer, Irina filed a claim for asylum and was allowed to remain in Berlin for the moment. She was not placed in a detention center pending deportation.
    They sat next to each other on the bed. The hinge on one of the cupboard doors had been broken and pulled loose during the search, and the door hung at an angle. Otherwise, nothing had changed. Irina held Kalle’s hand as they looked out of the window.
    “Now we have to do something new,” said Kalle. Irina nodded and thought how blissfully lucky they were.

Summertime

    Consuela was thinking about her grandson’s birthday: Today was the day she’d have to buy the PlayStation. Her shift had started at 7:00 a.m. Working as a maid was demanding, but it was a secure job, better than most she’d had before this. The hotel paid somewhat over the going rate; it was the best in town.
    All she had left to do was to clean room number 239. She entered the time on the work sheet. She was paid by the room, but the hotel management insisted that the work sheet be adhered to. And Consuela did whatever the management wanted. She couldn’t lose the job. She wrote 3:26 p.m. on the work sheet.
    She rang the bell. When no one opened the door, she