Detective Maier loitered naked in front of the full-sized mirror. At 190 cm, his reflection barely fitted into the solid teak frame, courtesy of Hamburg’s prestigious Hotel Atlantic Kempinski, that he drunkenly leant against. He studied his lived-in face, the deepening lines that spread around his eyes and along his cheeks. One day, it would all be gone to hell. But his shoulders were broad and he was in good shape at forty-five, all things considered. He still had hair on his head. He didn’t need glasses. He enjoyed his vanity and made no bones about it. Old age held off for another day.
He looked deeper into the mirror and could just make out the vague outline of Julia, who lay asleep across the huge bed in the shadows behind him.
His boss, Sundermann, had told him to go on holiday, ta
