Original subtitles

CIRCLES

Here?

Left. Then there's a crossing, right after the curve.

There should actually be a crossing here.

Show me that.

Where are we now?

Um, we're here.

And where did we turn? - There.

Didn't we come from there? - No, no, from there

Where did we drive then?

We drove here into the woods, at the bridge.

What bridge? - Well, the railway underpass.

There wasn't any, and there isn't one on the map either.

There definitely was one, I'm sure of it.

Madness.

Asshole.

There was a railway underpass. We turned from the main road...

Sshhh!

Here, I'll show you once more.

I think it's coming from there.

Mother!!

Strange thing with the shoes.

Yeah, with mine too. But the shoes of the victim...

...the murderer had placed them so neatly next to the body.

I noticed that too, also how the body had been covered.

It doesn't seem there was any attempt to hide the corpse.

Yeah. It had the feel of a reminiscence.

What do you mean?

I mean he knew her. - Yes, possibly.

There goes the underpass.

I was right.

That's not a real underpass.

It's all grown over.

You're obviously a bad loser.

Yes, it's one of my faults. I'm also grudgeful.

Is there a quick cobbler around here?

Want another one?

No thanks.

The victim was strangled with a thin cable.

Went deep into the flesh.

After death, the lower body was undressed.

Was the corpse violated? - No.

Sperm, urine, any traces? - None. - What about the dog?

Strangled as well.

With the cable? - Apparently with bare hands.

Wouldn't he have been injured doing that? Killing a dog with bare hands?

Werfel was five years old and had a hormonal disfunction.

It would've been very easy. - Werfel?

Yes, that is - was - the name of the dog. - You knew her?

This is a suburb. Everyone knew her.

Mrs. Hoffer is the biggest employer around here.

She was always seen in the woods with her dog.

Wasn't the company called Werfel, too? - Hoffer & Werfel.

Did she name the company after her dog?

No, the other way around. - Excuse me?

The company was called Wohnen 2000.

After the death of her father, she changed the name to Hoffer & Werfel.

Is this all from the crime scene? That's a lot of smoking.

Have you forbidden smoking, so that everybody has to do it in the woods?

That's from the regional train. - But smoking's forbidden there too.

Impossible to control, if there's a soccer match.

Anything out of the ordinary about them? - They're Czech.

Of course she had enemies. I know 72 of them personally.

Names and addresses. There you are.

This is a list of all the employees.

Yep.

Are you on the list as well? - Yes.

Then we'll start with you. - Please go ahead.

Where were you on Friday the 5th between 3 and 5 pm?

Is that when she was killed? - Please answer my question.

Where do you think? I was here.

Got witnesses? - Plenty.

Those poor sows, and the fucking Englishmen.

What Englishmen? - The guys who are going to buy it all.

The company's going to be sold?

Yes. - And everyone's got to go?

Yes, everyone, all 72 of them.

To be replaced by Englishmen?

No, they're just buying the name.

Then they'll sell all this and move production to Turkey.

They're buying our name and kicking us out, the bastards.

We've built all this up, but that ice-cold bitch doesn't give a shit.

And her father was exactly the same.

Fuck off!

Think he's coming back?

- I don't think so.

Sales going well? - Yeah.

By the way I shouldn't drive. Did you know that?

The idiot test.

Why should a motorcyclist wear bright contrast clothing?

A, because he can be seen better.

B, because it's modern.

B?

You know that I used to be an alcoholic.

The way you looked at me in the cobbler cafe,

you thought, that's the way she used to sit at the bar counter, night after night.

And did you?

Yes.

Why at the counter?

Why not at a table?

I got it already.

Where would you sit?

By the jukebox. - They don't have those anymore.

That's a shame though.

If someone went to the jukebox,

I would always try to guess what they'd choose.

When you pick a song, the music always starts so suddenly.

I was always a bit afraid of that.

To be recognized? - Yeah.

The looks from the bar counter:

"Aha, that kind of guy."

It's no good drinking at home.

When I started, I knew it wasn't going to go any further.

Could you come back later?

Just a couple of questions.

It's not such a good time.

Like we said, just a couple of questions.

You didn't want to let us in?

Did you have a break-in here?

What? No.

Are you trying to make it look like one?

No, no. I was looking for something.

Piss off.

Jan, please. - Get lost!

I was going to make some coffee. Would you like some too?

Black, no sugar, please.

I have to go to the car, I forgot something there.

When did you talk to your mother for the last time?

Fleischmann.

You know it? - I had Marklin.

That's what most people have.

Does it still exist? - Fleischmann?

I don't think so.

I read that Marklin isn't doing so well either.

Have you ever noticed, that it's always two competing companies?

And when one goes down, the other one thrives, but only for a short time.

Then it goes downhill as well.

Like the GDR and FRG?

That's what I thought.

It's strange. - What is?

There's no circle.

Ah, yes. There's another system of rails beneath.

The train disappears and resurfaces at another place.

Are you more in logistics? - No, on the contrary.

I'm interested in the models,

the design, houses, parks, stories.

Most of these systems are circular.

And in the middle of the circles you have these boring harmonious worlds,

these appalling cliches. Factory, market square, fire station, a shooting fair.

A housewife hanging laundry and waving goodbye to her husband.

And getting rid of the circle changes all that?

Well, it's like that.

Nothing changes as long as the same train circles around the same world.

But I'm looking for something else, something new.

I design, make plans.

I'm looking for possibilities, constructing new situations, making new stories.

Also I can't work on the computer.

To understand it, I have to build it first as a model.

Then when I've understood it, grasped it, hands-on,

then I can realize it. But first I need the model.

You like jukeboxes? - There are hardly any left.

That's a shame, though.

Yes, very much so.

I saw a couple of those in the office of your wife's company today.

Does she still keep them there?

She needed them for decoration for a sales negotiation.

Are you here because I didn't cry like Claudia's son?

No, we visited him as well. He didn't let you in, did he?

I don't care what he tells you.

I loved my wife. And yet we couldn't stand each other anymore.

Jukebox, model railway, workbench. This is your kingdom?

My zone is what she always called it.

When did you last see your wife?

When I moved out here, about a year ago.

I always hoped that she'd show up here, like you just now. But she never did.

The precinct tried to call you. Is your telephone turned off?

Oh, yeah, damn.

Mr. Brauer, we have to place you under arrest.

A witness has seen you in the act.

You're wearing glasses.

Yes. After all, I have to verify and sign the statement.

So you're far-sighted?

I saw him. - What did you see?

I sat on the 3 o'clock train, window seat, and saw the car on the Hex.

Sorry, "the Hex"?

Yes, that's what the clearing is called.

Were witches burned there?

Would've been before my time.

Did you look at the clearing by chance?

I take the 3 o'clock every afternoon from the clinic.

I live in Osterloh, because the air is good there, and also because...

Why did you look at the clearing?

I always look at it.

Ok, fine. What did you see there?

Mrs. Hoffer's red Alfa, and Brauer, pressing Mrs. Hoffer to the ground.

"Brauer", "Mrs. Hoffer"...

Why not "Mr. Brauer"?

Why is he just "Brauer", and she's "Mrs. Hoffer"?

She's a witness. He's handling her like a suspect.

MR. Brauer pressed her wife, Mrs. Hoffer, to the ground.

Werfel was running around them both.

When MR. Brauer saw the train, he let go of her, took a step back.

MR. Brauer looked up. Mrs. Hoffer lied there motionless.

You knew them both.

I'm a veteranarian. Werfel had cancer.

The dog? - Yes.

He was running around the clearing. Had you cured him?

On the clearing, it was the new Werfel.

The first one couldn't be saved.

Mr. Brauer and Mrs. Hoffer came often to the clinic?

No, I do home calls as well.

Especially if a dying animal has to be accompanied.

So you came to know both of them?

Just Mrs. Hoffer. MISTER Brauer was always in his own zone.

He disliked you? - He disliked animals.

Especially Werfel? - Yes.

Didn't it baffle you that Mrs. Hoffer named her company after her dog?

I think it baffles you more.

Very well, so you saw the dog, the red car, Mr. Brauer and Mrs. Hoffer.

You saw him push her down, and she stayed there.

I saw all that, clearly and distinctly.

What was Mrs. Hoffer wearing?

Excuse me? - What colour was her coat?

Blue.

She had her blue wool coat.

From my place at the counter, that looked pretty rough.

Too rough?

The commanding officer found it too rough.

In small towns and suburbs everyone suspects everyone. They're swarming with false witnesses.

That's what I thought too, it could be a denouncement.

But she saw it. - So it seems.

Good questioning technique, this meandering.

Police academy? - No, literature.

Which? - Garry Disher.

Never heard. - Australian, brilliant crime writer.

Can I talk to you quickly? Just a little while, please.

How did you get in here? - Just walked in.

Aha. - You've arrested Peter Michael.

Who? - Mr. Brauer.

Peter is a great guy. It's all thanks to his work.

He would never kill his wife. - The ice-cold bitch?

That's what you called the victim.

It was definitely not him. - We'll take your statement, and you can go home.

Don't talk to me like that!

If the company falls in the hands of that daft son of theirs, we'll all be done for.

Look, I'll say this to you just once. Never ever touch a policeman or a referee.

You'll find yourself sent to the showers or to jail in no time. Seriously.

You know where I'm going? I'm going to shower.

Your production manager. - Eberl.

A bit choleric, is he? - If he's afraid. But he doesn't bully the workers.

The company's supposed to be sold.

Everyone's putting their hopes on you.

He works for you, wanted to convince me of you.

Did he whack the coffee from your hand?

Did me a bad turn there.

You were a technical draughtsman in Karl Hoffer's company, back when it was called "Wohnen 2000".

The company made tavern furniture for various breweries...

...before slipping into insolvency as a result of the cheap competition from Czechs and Lithuania.

Was it ugly furniture?

Unbelievably ugly. There was the "English Pub" line and the "Bavarian Tavern" line.

- Oh yes, I remember. - We used to call them "Purgatory." - That's apt.

Karl Hoffer took his life, and you took over the management with the workers.

The company was soon making profit and made it to the front pages of middle class magazines.

You married Claudia Hoffer, Karl Hoffer's daughter.

Could you describe this to me in your own words?

My marriage?

The self-management.

You're not going to ask me where I was at the time of the murder, and so on?

"What was your relationship to the victim?" "Did you have a fight?" "Did she have enemies?"

First about the self-management.

Is this a new questioning technique, this kind of meandering?

What sort of a technique is that? - It's all new.

I saw a film, it was French, maybe Swiss.

With Depardieu playing the son of a factory owner,

who lived a playboy's life on the Cote d'Azur,

financed by his father with his furniture business.

Then the father dies and Depardieu comes home,

to sell the factory, in order to be able to continue his life with the money from it.

But the company has been broke for a long time already.

The father has been paying the employees on credit.

About a hundred people with their families.

A whole village with the factory in the middle.

And they receive him like he was the Messiah.

He's going to continue the company and put it right,

so that the village and the people can stay alive.

Of course at first he wants to flee.

Somehow, for the first time in his life, he is struck by a sense of responsibility.

Maybe there was also a love story involved.

I don't think so though, I think it came later.

He tells the workers he has got a big order,

the VIP area of the Milan airport.

The best furniture, best wood, clear, timeless forms.

Everyone's happy, starting work on designing and building,

patting him on the shoulder. Everyone's laughing.

Then everything's ready.

And he loads all the stuff into a truck and tells the workers,

that he's going to personally drive the stuff over to Milan.

So he drives off,

and into the woods.

And unloads everything and burns it.

And then?

On the way back he robs a bank,

and pays the workers with the money.

And then he keeps doing that.

And how does all this end then?

It ends well, I think.

You liked this, this Robin Hood kind of thing?

Robin Hood? Oh, you mean the thing with the banks.

No, I liked the furniture.

The ones that get burned? - Yes.

In the film you first see him throwing them in the fire.

You see how beautiful they are, and then they're gone.

And what then?

You mean the film or me? - You.

I had a friend, I knew him since elementary school.

Son of a wine grower, Hanno Gross,

He inherited his father's winery and the apartment attached to it.

It made him terribly glad.

He wanted to change everything: away with the old wine-musty stuff.

I built a model and showed it to him.

And he liked it very much.

That was the first order. And so it happened, that

other wineries saw it, or heard from their clients.

And then there came order after order.

Of course we also had luck.

This happened just around the time of the sustainable design boom, Manufactum etc.

So we got on the private market as well.

And now Eberl and the others are hoping

that you'll come back and everything will be as before?

Well, I'm not the Messiah.

But you've been planning to return?

Yes.

Have you been in touch with the workers?

Have you made plans already?

Yes.

Your wife knew that you wanted to return? - She must have known.

But wanted to sell regardless?

What did you do in the time after you left the company and your wife?

I'm sure it says in there what I've been doing.

Yeah, but I'd like it in your own words.

I started a new company, design consulting.

That didn't work out.

You're broke? - More or less.

I have a blue sofa, a table, a kitchenette,

and the rent is paid until January.

How did you actually end up marrying Claudia Hoffer?

She didn't use to give a shit about us.

She came to the company in her Alfa, with her dog,

took her father out to eat or to ride, or something to do with animals.

And the son, Jan Hoffer?

He was always in the boarding school, no one ever saw him.

You're saying "we" and "us" all the time.

She was something to look at, beautiful, unapproachable.

It was almost like a love song when she was talked about in the canteen.

What do you mean by that?

Fantasies of love, an untouchable woman.

Doesn't it seem to you as well that all this is like one of those circular worlds?

The company, the blonde daughter of the boss,

the upstart who marries her,

and then, feeling unrequited, messes up terribly.

That's how it seems to you now?

One time...

I was at night in the workplace,

designing something, a counter for a tasting room.

The radio was on.

I didn't hear a thing.

Didn't even smell perfume, she never wore any.

But I turned around.

Hands sticky from wood glue.

She stood there.

Leaning against the door frame,

very relaxed, very gentle.

She rocked slightly to the music,

and smiled,

and looked at me.

Mr. Brauer, where were you on Friday between 3 and 5 pm?

On the blue sofa. - The whole time?

Yes. - Alone?

Yes.

And the song on the radio, was that the one we heard on the jukebox this morning?

I did not kill my wife.

I can't cry.

The witness passed by the crime scene at about 25 past 3.

The train was 20 minutes late.

She had a glimpse of this.

What does the coroner say?

She died between 3 and 4 pm.

Mrs. Hoffer walked here with her dog almost every day,

for one hour after lunch.

She turned from the main road at the parking lot,

then continued by the forest road to the clearing.

There she parked and let the dog out to run.

How did we lose our way there?

We drove straight on here, over to the Zweidorfer Senke parking lot.

We were there? - Yes. Both parking lots have security cameras.

Why? - Trash. Illegal disposal. Oil and stuff like that.

That stopped abruptly when we put the cameras in.

The murderer must also have entered the woods through one of the parking lots.

How so?

It's eight kilometers to the next village.

They're the only points of entry.

Maybe he came on a bike or on foot.

He tried to bury the corpse.

There were shovel marks.

Strong roots in the earth there. He would've needed a hoe.

A guy running for 8 km through the woods with a shovel would've been spotted.

Maybe he left his car somewhere over there.

There's no parking there. The car would've been noticed in ten minutes. - Got it.

Eight minutes to 3 o'clock.

We have to find the point where the car leaves again.

Everything after 8 minutes to 3. - Yeah.

Both parking lots. - Yes.

Can we handle this alone?

Yes. - Good.

Then we'll see you tomorrow. - Yep.

Ok, until tomorrow then.

Tomorrow.

Thanks.

His wife left him, he's alone with the kids.

Where did she go? - Away.

With a marmelade salesman.

Is that an improvement?

What's that music?

The night porter has started his shift.

He listens to classical? - Yeah.

I think he's the only porter in Germany who listens to classical music. At full blast.

There's never been a single complaint.

With classical, there's this strange respect.

You want a cup of coffee? - No, thanks.

Actually I would like one.

Milk, sugar? - Black, thanks.

Watch out, it's hot. - Thanks.

13 minutes past five.

Can't see anyone.

We have to watch through all of this, to see the other car,

or the person who parked it in and is in the woods.

And comes out again.

Tomorrow. Now it's off for tonight.

My coat is out there in the locker. I don't have the key.

I'll bring it with me.

It's the dark blue one.

Yes yes, I remember.

I'd like a taxi, please. Revier Forsterstrasse.

Yes. I'd like to... - I can drive you.

Just a moment, please. But it's terribly far.

Excuse me, you can cancel it. Thank you.

Where are you staying, then? - Hotel Landgraf.

Out on the freeway?

I told you it was far.

Why stay out there?

Cheap package deal.

I know this broker.

He's probably the only broker in Germany who is not an asshole.

I'm not sure I'm going to stay.

Who decides that?

I do.

Hanns.

Constanze.

Ah, the constant one.

Would be nice.

Shouldn't you be?

My mother loved fashion magazines.

"Petra", "Brigitte", "Sibylle", and indeed, "Constanze".

"Sibylle", that was GDR.

You know your stuff.

My mother read the fashion magazines too.

What sort of magazine is "Hanns" then?

There's a restaurant near your hotel, called Akropolis.

There should be some decent food there still around this time.

Sounds like a place with neither counter nor jukebox.

No, they have neither.

Just [Udo Jurgens'] "Griechischer Wein" at midnight to clear the place.

Another time. I'm too tired.

[Lale Andersen, "Ein Schiff wird kommen"]

"I am a girl from Piraeus, who loves the harbor, the ships and the sea"

"I love the laugh of sailors, I love every kiss that tastes of salt and tar"

"Like all the girls in Piraeus, I stand night after night here on the pier"

"And wait for the ships from Hong Kong, from Java, from Chile and Shanghai."

"A ship is going to come, and bring with it someone..."

Why did you get yourself mixed up in your parents' marriage?

My mother was unhappy. I could feel it.

You're in town to visit your stepfather?

Yes. - You wanted to persuade him to go back to your mother? - Yes.

You waited for him at the apartment and then you tailed him.

Tailed? No, I wouldn't use that word.

Followed?

Better.

What time does the Chiquita Bar open?

About what time?

At ten. - 10 pm?

Yes.

So you followed your stepfather at night to the bar.

Didn't you speak to him? It's a long way over there. - No.

What were you planning?

You wanted to save the marriage, to alleviate your mother's misery.

Yes, but I didn't get a chance. - Did you miss your stepfather?

I don't understand what you mean. - You said you wanted to save the marriage.

I wanted to save my mother, not Brauer.

And that's why you showed her the photo?

Yes.

So, you saw Mr. Brauer with his lover.

You took the photo of the girl from the display... - I didn't say that.

It is from the display. It has the print marks and the tack holes on it.

When we came to visit you, was it this picture you were looking for?

I was looking for the will. - And?

There probably isn't any, says Dr. Sprengel.

Who's Dr. Sprengel? - Our lawyer.

That means your stepfather will be the next owner of the company.

That is, unless he's found guilty.

So you'll want to help us, right?

They say you're being harder on the witnesses than the suspects.

Who is "they"?

You?

Look, you have witnesses, and then you have informers.

And you don't like informers? - Do you?

We'd never get anywhere without them.

I'm sorry.

What for?

That sounded like third semester in Hamburg police academy.

I'm not hard on them because I couldn't stand them,

but because I have to sort out the truth from the slandering.

Of course it's a made up story, "saving the marriage" and all that.

But now we now that Brauer had a lover around here.

We don't know that yet. - But we will.

So, he has a lover, who fleeces him of his money.

He winds up broke. So it's a Walk to Canossa, back to her wife.

She doesn't want him anymore, and wants to sell the company.

He's left with nothing. He is desperate, begs her.

She humiliates him.

He stands there in the woods, she's taking her revenge, humiliating him.

The dog is running around, barking mockingly.

And then, he reacts.

Sounds like something off the Internet.

That's what it mostly is: feuding about heritage or jealousy.

Here we have both.

I have something off the Internet too.

The son, put in boarding school by the mother,

unloved, lost, with a stranger in his home in place of the father.

He denounces the stepfather.

The mother, instead of finally loving him, wants to sell everything, go away,

start finally living, spending all the money, have lovers and so on,

and leave him behind for good.

But he's got an alibi. He showed me.

When? - In the kitchen, when you were with Brauer.

A photograph. He was 36 kilometers away in Zweibrucken when it happened.

Doubtless identification? - Yes.

Why didn't you tell me about this?

We had an eyewitness and a murder suspect.

Did they play "Griechischer Wein" again yesterday?

No, they played "Ein Schiff wird kommen".

Lale Andersen's version?

Oh, you know your stuff.

It's a prostitute's song.

Yes, I have no idea what the barmaid was thinking.

Well, there's a blast from the past.

There's a place in Berlin called the Tin Drum.

You're kidding. - I swear.

Named after the book?

Well, they certainly don't read there.

I'll go see if I can find someone. See you soon.

She's a brunette now.

Is that her?

Nadja Bruns, been working here two months.

Got her address and phone number.

How long ago was that?

Not so long ago. July, August. It was hot.

And how did he take it?

Like a man.

Did you get his hopes up?

In what way?

You know, your door will be open if there's more money, and so on.

Of course it would have been open in that case.

And you got back to work two months ago? - Yes.

Didn't last long then, his money.

He didn't either, I'm sad to say.

How long were you together?

Long. - About?

Two years. - That's a long time.

You could say that.

It's rather unusual to be that long with a customer, wouldn't you say?

He's a good man.

So a night club hostess discovers that one of her clients is a good man,

then leaves her job and stays with him for two years? - Yes.

Is that normal? - What do you think, how many stewardesses find their

good man in the business class? - Is there no difference?

That's debatable. What's your opinion?

It's debatable.

Well OK, I knew Peter already beforehand.

Watch out, it's loud.

Like some? - No.

It's healthy.

You? - No.

And?

One night he was just there on the counter.

He was the only guy who didn't look up at the screens.

That's where the film clips are shown. And I was a little bit ashamed.

Why ashamed?

Well, I knew him from the university. I studied industrial design.

He came there twice as a guest lecturer.

And I financed my studies with the bar work.

And as it goes, a lot of people just stick to these jobs.

And why is he a good man?

He recognized me, but didn't show it.

Then you worked for him? - Yes.

Sounds a bit like those men who rescue fallen girls.

Well, it's a bit like that. I left him when the money ran out.

When did you last see him?

Like I said, July, August. It was hot.

Are you sure they were the keys to an Alfa?

Yes.

You know your stuff with cars? - I know my stuff with car keys.

But just ones for expensive cars.

And why do I only know keys for expensive cars?

The bar counter. The men who pay put their car keys on the counter,

ostentatiously, to impress you, right?

Exactly, yes.

Why didn't you tell me about Nadja?

You've told everything so exactly,

Depardieu, love songs, that your wife didn't use perfume.

But this one here, Nadja Bruns, has no place in your story.

You know what that's called in the Hamburg police academy?

Asshole.

Yes. Avoidance of self-incrimination.

Yes.

That's not the case here though.

What is it then?

Circles.

You remember?

The model railroad, the circle, the appalling cliches.

A man, not young anymore, goes to the big city.

wants something new, something different, to get another chance.

In the end he winds up with a former student,

who admired him and is selling herself in a sex bar.

Here's the photo from the lab. - Thanks. - He dreams about saving her and himself.

But it all goes to shit. It's a circle.

Cliched, no?

The terrible thing about cliches is that they're often true.

I was in the forest four days before Claudia was killed.

I drove behind her.

My Walk to Canossa.

I saw him get out of the car with Werfel.

I knew she was going to humiliate me.

How so?

From her laughter.

And she did humiliate you?

Yes.

What did she have on?

Coat, long skirt, I think.

What colour was the coat?

Blue, yes, blue.

How did she humiliate you?

The whole works. Like I said, the circle.

Please elaborate.

You mean if I could have killed her right at that moment?

At that moment?

Yes.

Mr. Brauer, what did you do?

I choked her, she was down on the ground.

I scared myself. She just kept laughing:

"You can't manage even that much!" She got in the car and left.

Here they are, both of them.

We found the Alfa hidden in an underground garage,

beneath the condo where Nadja Bruns lives.

She didn't sell it? She wanted to sell it.

Was that the plan?

What plan?

To get rid of the car by selling it.

The Alfa doesn't belong to Claudia.

Didn't Nadja say anything to you?

She has disappeared.

When?

Right after we talked to her. This morning.

What day is it today? - The 11th. - What weekday?

Thursday.

Models.

You remember?

I told you I always make models.

Remember? - Yes!

You can't possibly understand how much I loved Claudia.

And you can't understand the way she didn't love me back.

You can't.

On the contrary: she despised me.

She despised everything that I thought was beautiful.

Now he's going to admit it.

There were three birch trees on the plot.

They gave the view from the living room window this perspective,

as if designed by a landscape architect.

I showed that to Claudia, she had never noticed it.

I got a bit carried away with it, wanted to take her in my arms.

In the evening when I can home from work, they had been cut down.

Or take the shoes. There was this pair that was perfect for her.

Once I enthused about them, she threw them away immediately.

Then I was away from her and met Nadja,

who used to me a student of mine.

And I could tell her...

...all this, and she would listen.

And as I was telling it, I got this feeling,

that everything would be...

...fine, and it would be okay.

I tried to make her into Claudia.

Nadja?

The Claudia that I always longed for.

I bought her the same kind of shoes.

She dyed her hair blonde, like I wanted. And then the Alfa.

You bought it? - Yes.

The one in the garage? - Yes.

Why did you cry?

Because she kept it.

She has no money, has to work in the bar.

But she's kept the Alfa.

She can't afford it, but she won't sell it either.

You cried because you realized you still mean something to her?

Yes.

Why has she disappeared?

She hasn't disappeared.

Every Thursday she goes to Stuttgart to the academy.

It makes me glad that she continues her studies.

How do you know about it? I thought you were no longer in touch.

[Czech] Hello.

[Czech]

[Czech] ...money?

[Czech] Police. Get out of the --

I don't think so. - Sure. I'm certain of it.

It's not her car. And what if the witness had mixed up the days?

It's Brauer.

What makes you so sure?

His whole story. You can see him explaining his guilt away.

And now he's starting to believe it himself.

Would you come to the window?

Wait a minute.

There's the company, about to be destroyed by Claudia Hoffer.

Jobs, people depending on them, also going to be destroyed by her.

And the birch trees,

and with them, the beauty, the love, the gracefulness...

And then finally in the forest, he would destroy the destroyer.

And in the moment he has overcome her, she laughs at him.

So he kills her.

Thanks.

The destroyer-woman must be banished, and everything will be fine again.

Hold this.

Nadja Bruns.

Well, with a lot of imagination.

I saw something in Nadja Bruns' apartment.

A pair of sunglasses and a wig.

She killed Claudia Hoffer.

She wanted to bury her. That didn't work.

She dressed up as the victim, in case someone would see the car.

What about the shovel?

He was there four days earlier.

He had all this planned already then? - He builds models.

The blue overcoat,

his description of strangling her,

identical with that of the witness.

And why? Because he did it.

And now he's just trying to confuse,

to cast doubt on the statement of the witness:

she has mixed up, mistaken about the day or so.

We can only keep Brauer in detention for one more day.

With a lawyer he would be out today.

We've got him.

You have to interrogate them both tomorrow.

They're not going to have an alibi. You'll have them then.

Say, how about you interrogate Brauer? That would surprise him.

Uh-uh.

What about Nadja Bruns? - No.

Why not?

Are you inviting me out tonight?

Akropolis?

Yeah.

Phone!

The Czechs.

Hang on.

Yes.

When?

Send it right over, will you?

Good, thanks. See you.

They have the car.

And the killer.

Can I get you something more? - No thanks.

An ouzo on the house, perhaps? - Thank you.

You can have one, it doesn't bother me. Learned that in the clinic.

Check, please.

One should feel happy when a case is solved.

Something's not right here, is it? What do you make of this?

He had her wallet, her car.

His sperm on Claudia Hoffer's underpants.

What did the witness see?

She confused the dates.

And who is she, then?

He was a male prostitute, looks like he was in drag.

What is a Czech tranny doing in a German forest?

Pull over there.

Huh?

Please!

Let's change places.

Did you pass the idiot test? - He killed her.

Nadja Bruns was there.

When it got dark, she drove the car off.

She had on the blonde wig and sunglasses,

so that she would be identified as Claudia Hoffer if necessary.

She wore gloves, so as not to leave marks.

She drove through the night, crossed the border to the Czech Republic.

She drove up to the lone hustler - she knows her way, it's her trade -

she finds herself a lone hustler and does business with him.

She drives to some deserted place,

tells the guy to unzip his pants and close his eyes.

And then...

She jerks him off.

She feels he's going to come,

takes the panties that Brauer took off from the body,

and wipes the sperm off his cock onto them.

She hides the panties under the front seat, without him noticing.

Then she leaves the car with this or that excuse,

leaving the keys, handbag and money in plain view.

And then she waits.

The poor guy falls into the trap and steals the car.

Crazy?

Right, let's drive straight there.

To Nadja's? - Yeah.

Now? - Sure, yeah.

Were you in Stuttgart?

Excuse me? - At the university?

Yes, so?

It makes him happy.

Makes whom happy? - Brauer.

It even made him cry.

Have you been drinking?

One more question.

Just one.

Where were you last Friday between 3 and 5 pm?

What's this about? - Answer the question.

On the 5th?

I was having an operation.

In a hospital? - In St. Joseph.

What kind of operation? - Is that your business?

At 3 o'clock I was being put under anaesthesy,

at 5 I came to in the waking room.

That's it, thank you. - See you.

Have a nice day, thanks.

It can't have been her.

She was under monitoring the entire day.

I'm sorry.

What for?

For all this shit.

What do you mean? - My ambitiousness pisses me off.

It was a good story though. - Don't make fun of this!

I thought we had her too. - Oh, come on.

I wanted to impress.

Whom?

Myself, you...

Doesn't matter.

I wanted to go out on a triumph.

What do you mean, go out?

I'm moving back to Hamburg.

When?

When am I leaving?

Today.

Okay.

To the hotel?

Yes.

How was it you put it?

"Third semester in the Hamburg police academy."

That was you.

Anyway, what I was going to say,

from therapy group 4 at the Heidehof clinic:

"Avoid losing control", "seek safe, familiar surroundings", etc.

That's my husband's car.

He's probably up there packing my things.

Maybe it's not big love anymore,

but I don't have any use for big love at the moment.

Shall we smoke one more?

I'd rather not.

Good morning. - Morning, Mr. Schrader.

We just let Brauer go. - Yes.

Where's Mrs. Hermann? - Went back to Hamburg.

That's a shame.

Brauer left that in the cell.

He built it.

Didn't want a TV or books, just wood, glue and paints.

You forgot this.

No, I made it for you.

Didn't they tell you?

You like it?

Yes, thank you.

Well, -- - I was just going to make coffee.

Please stay a while. I don't have to go out to get to the kitchen anymore.

I found the key to the connecting door. I'll be right back.

I hoped so much that you would come.

I didn't want anything to happen to the boy.

Shall we drink the coffee before you take me? Please.

Sugar? Milk?

Black.

Just like me.