Werner and Helen were walking arm in arm through the neighborhood. They couldn’t talk in peace at home. The entire house was full of kids: some friends of Thom’s had come over after dinner to play video games, Sara and Jackie had locked themselves in the bathroom with a makeup bag, and Emma was working on a school presentation in the kitchen along with two classmates.

“I regret not paying more attention to all those cop shows,” said Werner.

“They’re probably just as full of nonsense as the hospital dramas.”

“But it would help me come up with ideas.”

Ideas like those pigs of yours, no doubt. “This isn’t a movie, Werner. In real life, you don’t have any control. You can’t rule out the possibility that somebody might notice you and call the police.”

“It must be doable somehow.” Werner’s hair blew across his temple. “There are still plenty of murders the police don’t manage to solve. Corpses with traces of DNA on them, but nobody to link them to. Or sometimes they can’t even identify the body in the first place. And then all those missing persons.” He looked at her. “I really think it would be better if I tried to get rid of him somewhere abroad. In a river, or a lake.”

“I might have an idea,” she said hesitantly. Her voice was quiet. “But it’s—really, it’s too gruesome for words. Complete madness.”

He looked at her. “Tell me.”

She told Werner about the protocols around clinical waste. “Nobody checks what’s inside the containers once they’ve been closed. The lids are permanently sealed.”

“But surely the contents are taken out again at some point?”

She shook her head. “No, the containers are destroyed as they are. They go straight into the incinerator.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It just means that we—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“I understand what it means.”

Nausea welled up in her again. “Never mind,” she whispered. “Forget it. I never said anything. I—I must be going mad.”

Werner grabbed her by the shoulders. His inquiring eyes ran over her face. They were bigger than usual—they even seemed to protrude slightly, and they looked at her with a sudden fervor that made her recoil. “On the contrary, Helen. I think it’s a brilliant idea. Truly brilliant.”

8

8

“I’ve never understood why Brian was so into living here,” remarked Naomi softly.

They were walking through the huge kitchen. Ralf could see extractor fans, ovens, and cutlery trays, but also a lot of gaps; the best goods had been ripped out and sold.

“It’s cheap,” said Ralf. “Nobody complains if you make too much noise, and you can always park right in front of the door.”

“But it stinks.” She wrinkled her nose. “And you can be evicted at any moment. I couldn’t live here.”

“Me neither.”