Free The Sinner by Petra Hammesfahr

flush, so to speak, and very much in love.
It's only normal for newlyweds to kiss and cuddle, and nobody
takes offence these days if they do it in public. You were the only
person to get worked up about it. Why, Frau Bender? What gave
you the idea that Georg Frankenberg might hit his wife?"
    Georg Frankenberg? Something was wrong - something wasn't
the way she'd instinctively expected. She had the same puzzling
sensation as she'd had after the murder, when the blonde pushed
her hand away. His wife! She felt utterly bewildered.
    "Look," she said, "there's no point in telling me such things and
asking stupid questions. That's all I'm saying. It'll save a lot of time
if you take down my confession. I killed the man, I can't say more
than that."
    "You mean you won't," said the chief. "However, we already
have several statements, and one of the witnesses says you tried
to put your arms round Frau Frankenberg after the murder. You
spoke to her too. Do you remember what you said?"
    He was furious now, but she didn't care. Georg Frankenberg!
And his wife! If the chief said so, it must be true. Why should
a policeman lie - what would he gain? And Gereon hadn't even
glanced at her afterwards.
    He was probably lounging in front of the TV at this moment,
watching a movie. That was his life, working and watching TV. But
he was more likely to be still sitting with his parents in the living
room, and they would all be furious with her. The old man: "She
was a minx, I saw that the moment she walked into the room. We
should have sent her back where she came from."
    And Gereon's mother: "You should divorce her. You must, if
only because of the neighbours. We can't have them thinking we
want anything more to do with such a creature."
    And Gereon would nod. He not only nodded whenever his
parents made a suggestion but acted on it too, unless someone
pointed out what nonsense it was.

    There was no one there to tell him anything any more, but he
would soon find someone else. He was a healthy, good-looking
young man. He owned a house and earned a decent living: she'd
seen to that. One day he would take over the business and become
his own boss. He was a good catch, not only financially.
    He didn't drink much, wasn't given to violence and avoided
arguments. He was affectionate - yes, he was. She could have slept
with him for years and decades to come, if only he hadn't tried to
kiss her that way on Christmas Eve. Any other woman might have
enjoyed it.
    He was welcome to a woman who could love him the way he
deserved. Who enjoyed being in bed with him. Who couldn't
wait for him to go down on her and would do the same to him.
Although it pained her to imagine it, she hoped with all her heart
that he would soon find such a woman. He was a philistine, yes,
but a thoroughly normal man. And she ... She was normal too.
Absolutely normal, and had been from an early age. Grit Adigar
had said so.

    That was the worst thing I had to come to terms with as a child:
that none of my family was normal. I can't recall when I first
realized I was a part of it and that nothing would ever change, nor
do I remember if that realization dawned on a particular occasion
or was a gradual process. I simply knew, at some stage, that that
frightful creature was my biological mother. If I'd had to show my
face in town with her, I would have denied her just as Peter denied
our Saviour. But that made no difference to the facts or to anything
else in my miserable existence.
    Father tried to make things a little more bearable for me, but
what could he do? There was the day I went to school for the first
time. Father had bought me a satchel and a blue dress in Hamburg.
It was a pretty dress with little white buttons down the bodice, a
white collar and a belt.
    Vanity being yet another sin, I had to burn it before the altar in the living room - in a tin bucket. Mother stood alongside with a
watering can in case the house went up in