In the intro article, Carolin and I explained the rules for our new series and let you vote on the genre, time and product to be included. That's why we're now taking turns every Thursday to write a crime thriller set in the present day. The highlight: you can intervene in the action yourself by voting at the end of each chapter. As a reader, you decide which product from a random preselection the author has to include in her sequel. A kind of mini-challenge from the Community.
Ephraim has been lonely since his dog Hannibal was killed in a nail bomb attack. A high-ranking member of the PdA was also killed in the attack on his workshop. The sun blind weaver waits in vain for the results of the investigation by Inspector Magenta and his juice squad. After finding a frightening message in his letterbox, he secretly steals a black notebook and a request form for a house search during his visit to police headquarters. With his stolen goods and a poisonous green suspicion, he makes his way to the paint shop "Lack und Eder", where he hopes to find answers.
It's just before closing time and nothing in the "Lack und Eder" reminds us of this morning's chaotic incident. The shelves, which are now upright again, are lined up as usual with paint colour after paint colour. The floor is also gleaming. Almost as much as Angred does when she sees Ephraim come in. He takes a deep breath and resists the urge to turn round on the spot. He needs answers. For Hannibal. "Well, will it be another can of rhubarb red?" asks Angred, batting her clumped eyelashes. "I'm here on serious business. May I ask you a few questions?" Angred seems confused, but catches herself with a smile. "I could close the shop early. My husband Diethard isn't here anyway. A glass of sparkling wine upstairs in the cosy parlour makes it easier to talk, doesn't it?" Without waiting for Ephraim's answer, Angred turns the "Open" sign on the shop door and makes the key dance around its own axis several times in the lock."A water for me, please," Ephraim calls out to Angred, who has already filled a champagne flute to the top in the kitchen and is about to start the second one. Painted ceramic plates of various origins hang on all four walls. At least 70 of them. All souvenirs. Angred seems to have a penchant for collecting. An arsenal of thimbles hangs in the box above the blazing fireplace. Back on the sofa, the woman with the purple hair moves so close to Ephraim that the smell of her cheap perfume burns his nasal mucous membranes. "You know what happened to me in the workshop, don't you?" Ephraim begins hesitantly, trying to breathe in enough perfume-free oxygen with his face turned sideways so that he can choke out the next few sentences. "Terrible thing," Angred replies. Ephraim lowers his head and continues in a hushed voice: "What do you know about this guy in the poison green hoodie who's been tearing up the place today? I have a feeling he might know something about the Hannibal thing." Ephraim remains vague. After all, he doesn't want to tell her too much about his mission. With her loose mouth, it would probably take an hour at most before the whole village knew. Angred empties the champagne glass in one go and places it on the coffee table next to a flickering candle. "This is Eddie. A boy from the neighbouring village. But I can reassure you, Eddie's definitely not involved. He no longer has all the paint tins on the shelf, if you know what I mean." Angred winks at him with a giggle and seems proud of the allusion. "The boy visits us once a week. He studies the colour catalogues for hours. He's fascinated by colour. And when he's not staring at colours, he rummages through rubbish bins. He's already known to the police." Disappointment spreads through Ephraim, which doesn't escape Angred's notice. "You look like you could do with some cheering up," Angred whispers in his ear. Ephraim stands up as if stung by a tarantula. "May I use the toilet for a moment?" - "Of course, go ahead and freshen up, big guy. Down the corridor." Ephraim's heart is pounding. Saying no has never been his strong point. He's generally not a man of big words. As he ponders how to get out of this mess, he finds himself in a cramped, musty office. Definitely no toilet in here. Files and piles of paper line the small wooden desk in the corner. Diethard and Angred don't seem to think much of tidiness. As Ephraim turns to leave the room again, his gaze lingers on a piece of paper on the magnetic board next to the door. It is attached at Ephraim's eye level with a colourful magnet from the children's game Klack! He hates this hectic game. His nieces force him to play it with them every time he visits. "Joachim Schüberle" is written on the note in green ink and scrawled writing, followed by a telephone number. Isn't that the journalist who has already reported on the attack on his workshop several times in the local newspaper "Kaff Aktuell"?The note reminds Ephraim that there is another one in his trouser pocket. The application to search the house, which he stole from the police. He hasn't looked at it yet because of all the excitement. He carefully unfolds the note.[[pullquote:... entering and searching the property at Frevelstrasse 99 along with the associated shop space and rented garage.]]He knows the address. It's the Eders' house."Well, are you lost, big guy?"Continued on 24 December 2020[[competition:625]][[product:8720833,10681416,12904352]]You can vote until 20 December 2020 at 11:59 pm. The product with the most votes at that time will be included in the next part of the story. Follow the topic "Series" [here](/en/topic/1310) or us as authors to make sure you don't miss an episode.#### All parts published so far[[marketingpage:18430]] [[marketingpage:18442]] [[marketingpage:18576]] [[marketingpage:18692]] [[marketingpage:18543]] [[marketingpage:18717]] [[marketingpage:18700]]
