Wensker was on his porch, enjoying the coming of spring. The sun was shining, Wensker sighed with a smile and resolved to schedule more time out like this. Just then the phone rang, Schubert's name lit up on the display. He briefly considered turning the phone off, suspecting that Haller had accidentally shot Schubert in the leg or some such escapade. Unfortunately, the two of them were good for that sort of thing. But he answered it anyway, dutiful as he was.
"What's up?"
"Hello boss, murder at the Sicily."
"What, in the restaurant? What happened?"
"The owner is lying in a red pool on the floor, a customer found her."
"Terrible. Okay, sure the crime scene, I'm coming. Don't touch anything. You haven't touched anything, have you?"
"Haller slipped on the blood, after all, we thought she spilled ketchup and fell asleep at first. It's lunchtime. Anyway, he went home for a minute to get some fresh clothes. Hopefully, the stains will come out."
"...Please best not move, I'll be as quick as I can!"
Arriving on the scene, he was first greeted by that bitter Hesperidian smell. Not only did it smell like bergamot and lemon, the scent was heavier in its effervescence. Wensker saw Schubert eating three kilos of bitter oranges. Puzzled, he looked at his co-worker.
"Yes mei, was inside what boring. I went to the kitchen and took the blood oranges away. Doesn't matter to Ursel anymore. Just a little mishap, I ran a bit of it on the white, dignified leather. Where also the blood puddle is."
"Schubert....you fell on your head two....too many times earlier.....I'll go inside!"
Inside, Wensker was presented with a picture which at first seemed very bloody and gruesome. Ursel Sattlinger, liked to vacation in Italy and opened the Sicily many years ago. Here one ate inexpensively and in the evening not a few mating willing mid-forties gathered here with cheap spirits. Now the question of what had happened here was exciting. Wensker discovered a bleeding wound on the head, a lot of blood had flowed into the carpet. The whole place continued to smell of bitter citrus, though, which seemed quite warm, but not necessarily inviting. Quasi warm-hearted and yet distantly cool with a tendency towards darker elements. A reserved leather continued to resonate. Suddenly, something caught Wensker's eye:
"Did any of you move the body?"
"Nah, why?"
"Didn't you tell me there was orange juice in the blood here? Where would that have been? It's all basically cleaned up - apart from the body, and the pool."
"Well, I may well be wrong, too. Had three grains for breakfast already."
"And then Did you drive??? Are you serious?"
"Sure, Haller, had some more."
Time passed, leads were secured, the press courted news, and Wensker had a feeling. He looked at the dead woman and, puzzled, noticed that there was suddenly an empty Coke can and a candy bar wrapper.
"Who put their trash next to the body here? Turd!"
No one came forward.
The scent, on the other hand, which still hung in the air, turned more towards birch. Green, aromatic, not smoky but reminiscent of smoke. Clearly influenced by the Hesperides. Somehow also spiced with cardamom for this birch smelled slightly pungent and ethereal. The scent should continue to linger in this state. Very easily, this melange could be mistaken for some kind of juniper.
Wensker had an idea and what he then observed when everyone had left and the corpse was virtually waiting for its transport to pathology, that was quite unique but now it was also clear where the scent came from! The Ursel moved, sprayed herself with a scent and looked for the Coke can! Zombies in Bavaria? No, he didn't like to believe that.
"Ursel, get up, I saw you."
The corpse stirred and then sat up. "Nice mess, that wasn't the plan."
"What's the fuss here?"
"The Sicily doesn't run, wanted to bounce the life insurance. And then start over in the real Sicily. With my new lover Basti, he's sort of Italian."
"I'm sorry, Ursel. That's it."
As Ursel was now being led away, he was again struck by the scent. This one was by now rather bitter, free of freshness, unfree of little but no quality leather. Ursel had not revealed her lover. Except for his first name. He would put his colleague Basti Briatore on it, as an Italian from the area and a police colleague he might know who. Wensker stubbed out his cigarette. The scent was gone now, too.
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