The Ice Queen: A Novel by Nele Neuhaus Read Free Book Online Page A

waved at Pia. She had to be forty, and with her tiny figure she could effortlessly find a suitable dress in any boutique in town. Pia gave her a friendly smile and waved back. Then she took a closer look.
    “I’m impressed.” Christoph grinned in amusement. “The rich and powerful know you. Who’s that?”
    “I don’t believe it.” Pia let go of Christoph’s arm. The petite dark-haired woman made her way through the crowd and stopped in front of them.
    “Püppi!” the woman cried, and threw her arms wide, grinning.
    “Frosch! Is that really you? What are you doing in Frankfurt?” Pia asked, then she gave the woman a big hug. Many years ago, Miriam Horowitz had been Pia’s best friend. Together they had lived through some wild and fun times, but then they’d lost touch.
    “Nobody’s called me Frosch in years,” the woman said with a laugh. “Man, is this ever a surprise!”
    The two women looked each other up and down, curious and overjoyed. Pia could see that her friend had hardly changed—except for a few wrinkles here and there.
    “Christoph, this is Miriam, my best friend from school,” said Pia, remembering her manners. “Miri, this is Christoph Sander.”
    “Pleased to meet you.” Miriam extended her hand to him and smiled. They chatted for a while; then Christoph left the two alone and went to join some of his colleagues.
    *   *   *
    When Elard Kaltensee woke up, he felt completely bewildered, and it took him a few seconds to figure out where he was. He hated falling asleep in the afternoon; it threw off his biorhythms, but it was the only chance he had to catch up on his sleep. His throat hurt, and he had a terrible taste in his mouth. For years, he’d rarely had any dreams, and when he did, he couldn’t remember them. But a while back he’d started having ghastly, oppressive nightmares that he could avoid only by taking sleeping pills. His daily dose of lorazepam was now up to two milligrams, and if he forgot to take the pills even once, then the nightmares descended on him—vague, inexplicable memories of fear, of voices and bloodcurdling laughter, which left him bathed in sweat and jolted him awake, his heart racing. Sometimes the nightmares would cast a shadow over the whole next day. Dazed, Elard sat down and massaged his throbbing temples. Maybe everything would get better when he could finally go back to his daily agenda. He was relieved that with the family celebration the last of the countless official, semiofficial, and private festivities in honor of his mother’s eighty-fifth birthday were finally over. Naturally, the rest of the family had expected that he would take care of everything, simply because he, too, lived at Mühlenhof, and in their eyes he had little else to do. Only now did it dawn on him what had happened. The news of Goldberg’s death had put an abrupt end to the celebration at Schloss Bodenstein.
    Elard Kaltensee smiled bitterly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Goldberg had enjoyed a remarkable ninety-two summers, the old son of a bitch. No one could claim that he’d been yanked out of the middle of his life. Elard tottered into the bathroom, undressed, and stepped in front of the mirror. He gave himself a critical look. Even at sixty-three, he was in pretty good shape. No potbelly, no spare tire, no baggy turkey neck. He let the tub fill up, tossed in a handful of bath salts, and lowered himself with a sigh into the fragrant hot water. Goldberg’s death didn’t shock him; actually, he was glad that it had brought the celebration to an early conclusion. He had immediately complied with his mother’s request to drive her home. When Siegbert and Jutta had shown up only seconds later at Mühlenhof, he had taken the opportunity to withdraw discreetly. He badly needed some peace and quiet so he could contemplate the events of the past day.
    Elard Kaltensee closed his eyes and rewound his thoughts back to last night, seeing with a pounding heart