SPILLED MILK
Yasira nearly throws up. Nevertheless, she enters the kitchen.
A swarm of flies abandons its feast, buzzing around her.
She puts the rock, which she is still holding in her hand, into the pocket of her coat.
Then she opens the window. Now she has to inspect the body.
A part of her job that she absolutely dreaded, starting back in her training.
The images and videos of the American body farms that were shown in Wiesbaden during the training courses gave her nightmares for weeks.
In these body farms, corpses are laid out in the open so that forensic scientists can observe the decomposition processes in order to draw conclusions about bodies found after crimes.
The corpses lie under rusty wire mesh cages to protect them from wild animals.
A horrible place. Yasira refocuses on the present and turns to the corpse lying in front of her.
The dead man is Messerschmidt. Despite the advanced stage of decomposition, she can clearly identify him by his golden nose piercing.
It’s the same one he wore in the photo shoot for Wired.
A light stubble beard covers his face. He doesn’t have it because, as popular belief has it, hair continues to grow after death.
It’s more because that the skin shrinks, causing the beard hair to appear.
Judging by the state of decomposition, Messerschmidt has been lying on the kitchen tiles for weeks.
The putrefaction, which begins in the intestines, has already spread over the entire body.
The skin is discolored, the sulfur compounds produced during the decomposition of hemoglobin make the veins under the skin shimmer green.
The soft tissues are swollen. Yasira can tell by his lips.
Messerschmidt’s mouth is open. There are blisters on his tongue.
But the putrefaction has already turned to decay.
A few weeks ago, the stench must have been far worse.
At first glance, she finds no wounds or signs of violence on Messerschmidt’s body.
Then she uses her boot to slightly turn Messerschmidt’s head to the side.
Something looks suspicious on the back of his head.
It was once encrusted blood. But even the blood is already decomposing.
Maggots are crawling around in the wound.
Yasira lets her gaze wander upwards from Messerschmidt’s head.
On the corner of the slate worktop there are also traces of blood.
Messerschmidt must have hit his head against it. Did that kill him? But why did he fall?
Yasira scans the room for further clues.
Next to Messerschmidt is a carton of milk.
It’s open, the milk, spilled weeks ago, has formed a beige crust on the tiles.
Up in a corner, Yasira sees a video camera.
What the hell did she stumble into here?
She goes to the window to get some fresh air, pulls her phone out of her pocket and turns it on.
It’s no time to dwell on her own pride. She calls Michael on his private phone.
“Yasira? What’s going on . . .”
“I’m at Messerschmidt’s,” whispers Yasira.
“What? Why?”
“He’s dead.”
“But you’re sus . . .”
“I don’t have time to explain. I’ll send you my location. Something is very wrong here. Send backup. No matter how. But do it now.”
“Of course,” says Michael, putting all his questions aside.
Yasira hangs up and sends him her location.
She sneaks out of the kitchen, then hears a shot and flinches.
The shot is followed by nervous screaming.
Her heart stops for a moment. She instinctively grabs the rock in her pocket.
It takes her a few seconds to realize that the noise is only coming from the TV.
She sneaks into the living room and turns it off.
Suddenly it is very quiet. Eerily quiet.
There’s just a low humming sound. Like a big fridge.
Yasira tries to locate the sound. In the living room, she discovers another camera on the ceiling.
She goes back into the hallway. Another camera.
Opposite the kitchen door is a staircase leading to the second floor.
But the humming is not coming from upstairs, it is coming through the second door to the right of the hallway.
The room next to the kitchen. Carefully, Yasira opens the door.
There are several computers stacked on metal shelves that are emitting this humming noise. The room resembles the server rooms at the BKA. That’s probably exactly what it is. Messerschmidt’s server. Yasira doesn’t see a monitor. No terminal. It must be in another room.
She goes back into the hallway and opens the door opposite the server room.
Behind it appears to be Messerschmidt’s office.
On a large screen in the middle of the room, Yasira sees the face of a woman.
Her eyes are closed and she appears to be asleep.
Somehow the face looks familiar to Yasira.
Isn’t it that one actress? Scarlett something?
Yasira enters the room. Scarlett opens her eyes.