The doctor and the nurse headed towards the door. Dr Gabriel turned and shook his head mournfully. ‘You are a disgrace to your namesake, Frau Sandow. And I am hoping that Eugene Sandow is no direct ancestor of yours. His vision for this sport was to replicate the ethos of classical gymnasia. To achieve perfect symmetry and balance. To shape – not to misshape. What people like you have done is to take a great sport and turn it into a freak show. As I said, the organising body will notify you of the test results.’

Andrea was left alone with Maxine, who placed an arm around her huge shoulders. ‘Don’t you worry about it, love,’ she said in English. ‘You’ll pass these tests, no problem. What was that old guy going on about, anyway?’

‘Nothing,’ said Andrea and smiled. ‘Nothing at all. Let’s go out on the town tonight, just like you said.’

But deep down inside the dark fire roared. She thought of the pompous little doctor and, worst of all, that snotty cow of a nurse standing there silent, reproachful and so submissive. They were so sure of themselves. But what they didn’t know was that she was as smart as she was strong. There would be nothing to find in the sample.

She would go out on the town tonight with Maxine. But soon, very soon, she was going to have to release the heat of her anger.

12.

While Scholz went into the kitchen to get himself a beer and make Fabel a coffee, Fabel laid the photographs of both victims side by side on the coffee table: images in life and in death.

‘I was talking to this anthropologist before I came down here,’ he called through to the kitchen. ‘He was an expert on the ideal of female beauty through the ages. Not so much what is beautiful but what we regard as beautiful. There was a time when these two women would have matched that ideal perfectly: slightly pear-shaped, slim upper body with a little flesh around the hips and belly. Right up until the First World War, in fact. Then came the flapper, then the hourglass, then the skinny.’

‘So what’s your point?’ Scholz emerged from the kitchen and handed Fabel his coffee.

‘These women had the wrong shape for today. They might have wanted to do something about it.’ Fabel started to rummage through the files.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Scholz.

‘Gym memberships, diet clubs … any hint that they were considering cosmetic surgery … liposuction, that kind of thing.’

‘But there was nothing really wrong with them …’ Scholz joined the search. ‘I mean, their shapes weren’t that unusually heavy around the backside.’

‘You would be amazed at what lengths women are prepared to go to over the slightest flaw.’

Ten minutes later they had assembled a selection of options, all for Sabine Jordanski. She went to a private gym twice a week, took regular beauty treatments at the salon, went swimming every Wednesday when she had the afternoon off. There was nothing at all for Melissa Schenker.