He said it was a hard case, hard to comprehend and, hence, hard to solve. Yet we should not muddle through: we had to keep a clear mind, and we should not assume the assassin was mad.
Picture: der “Tatort” in der ARD, source: web.de
She thought she ought to check the address before she went down the high street. She had the key, and would see the colour sign, the code.
Her mission was simple, she was paid to kill him.
He knew, and was waiting. He was accepting death. His time had come, and he made sure the sign was at his door. It would be painless, she was such an artist, he knew: he had trained her.
She looks at him: she believes, and yet she knows, she’s known him for so long.
“I avoid walking on insects, or even plants, I keep away from fearful animals…”
Her eyes take in the uniform, the weapons, the thin lips of a professional assassin: her sweet husband.
“When you die, I shall remember,” she says at last, “and my grief will be my companion , all the way to the gates of Hell.”