Nakkita: Bumps are lethal

By Udo Meeßen

Tanja Sorg owns an Opel Nakkita GTC, a chic girls' coupe, tuned at the factory and with its paint job an absolute one-off.
Hans Burgmeister, a moderately successful traveling salesman, drives too fast into a densely populated residential area in Porta Westfalica, loses control of his SUV and rams Tanja's beloved Nakky.
Two days later he is dead, run over in a field and all the evidence points to Nakky as the murder weapon.
This is the beginning of an absurd series of murders in which detective inspector Charlotte Bauer has a lot to gnaw on. Absurd, because you can kill someone with a Nakkita, but you certainly can't run them over, because the coupes of the GTC series with their sports chassis are much too low over the road for that. The victims of the murders, however, have tire marks on their faces, and in the courtyard of Nadja Pfeifer's workshop there are literally piles of damaged cars and wrecks of this type, which after the respective accidents are observed undamaged by witnesses during the murders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: tredition
• Release date: Apr 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9783347621947

Book preview

Tanja's beloved Nakky

May 11, 2047, 2:25 p.m., Porta Westfalica / Minden-Lübbecke: Coming from the south-west, Hans Burgmeister drove his heavy SUV much too fast along Mindener Straße, turned left into Postillionweg with squealing tires, lost control of his car for a moment and rammed the rear of a car parked there at the height of house number 2.

The car he rammed was a sleek Opel Nakkita GTC coupe, which was very popular with young women, and it stood out for its unusual paint job, because it was painted in turquoise with a mother-of-pearl effect.

Shit!

Burgmeister thought for a moment about just driving on, then he thought that for sure some resident could have heard the bang. If he then knew the owner of the Nakkita and informed him, it could get loud, because on the black rear window of the car was stuck in yellow writing a clear warning:

Keep your distance!

You dent my Nakky,

I'll dent your face!

The car was undoubtedly tuned, with expensive aluminum rims, a large rear spoiler, widened fenders, and its appearance suited a hot-headed, youthful car nut who went on the prowl in the bars and clubs on the weekends. Such people had the reputation to strike first and Burgmeister did not want to let it come to that.

Especially because he had already experienced this. A few years earlier, he had also driven into a densely populated residential area at far too high a speed because, after all, time was money. He had to go to the settlements because he sold biometric locking systems for houses and apartments to private individuals, and he was constantly under time pressure because he was only moderately successful, so the masses had to bring it.

No sooner had there been a clatter than a front door flew open and the next moment a well-trained guy in his early twenties dragged him out of the car. He struck first, gave Burgmeister a few hard punches and rearranged his face. Burgmeister was sure that the guy would have beaten him to death if the police, called by a neighbor, had not intervened.

So he thought that it would be better to get ahead of the presumed witness and called the police to have the accident properly recorded. In the presence of the police officers, the injured party would also keep himself in check and not bang him on the ear.

Disgruntled, he turned off the engine of his car, got out and looked at the mess, taking photos with his smartphone for the insurance company. The front right fender of his car was dented and the right headlight had disintegrated into its component parts. The Nakkita, meanwhile, was badly damaged. The rear apron had been torn off and - because the plastic had been around for a few years and the plasticizer had disappeared from it - had shattered into numerous pieces. In addition, the left fender was crushed, the widening was lying on the asphalt and the 17-inch rim showed a fresh, wide crack. But that wasn't enough… the taillight was equally destroyed and a large crack showed in the rear window.

'Tank versus soapbox,' Burgmeister thought, trying to assess the damage as a patrol car turned into the street and slowly approached.

Good afternoon, the driver of the patrol car addressed him, dumb luck, huh? What happened?

I came from Mindener Street, had to sneeze and lost control for a moment, Burgmeister replied, making a helpless gesture to ekm/hasize his innocence.

Aha. Then may I ask for your driver's license, vehicle registration and insurance card.

Meanwhile, the policeman's colleague, Roswitha Schleimer, looked at the scene of the accident, took photos for the accident report and determined the owner of the Nakkita by means of the license plate number by means of a short phone call.

While Police Chief Wulfrad was busy with the paperwork, making an accident sketch and taking Burgmeister's particulars, Schleimer looked around briefly and then went to house number 4.

Good day. Schleimer from the police. Is Ms. Tanja Sorg in the house? she asked the graying woman in her mid-fifties who opened the door.

Tanja? Has she done something wrong? Just a moment, please. Tanja is working the night shift and sleeping.

Thank you. And she didn't do anything wrong. But her car was damaged.

What?! My Nakky is broken? exclaimed a brunette, petite woman in her mid-thirties, who at that moment came out of one of the rooms because the ringing of the doorbell had woken her up.

You are Tanja Sorg?

Yes, that's me. What happened?

I think you'd better put some clothes on and come out to your car, please.

Oh, yes, Tanja said, looking down at herself. She was wearing only a playful negligee made of semi-transparent fabric in turquoise and matching panties. All in all, she was very appetizing in Schleimer's eyes and the latter could imagine more pleasant things than having to confront the cute thing with her damaged car.

-*-

What, because of that little doll… escaped Burgmeister with a snort and then he swallowed the rest of what was on his tongue.

Excuse me? asked Wulfrad.

Nothing. I was just thinking out loud.

Ah. O.k. As it is, Mr. Burgmeister, you were driving too fast. If you had kept to the prescribed 30 km/h, you wouldn't have totaled that car, and you'll be hearing from us in that regard.

Total loss? What's that supposed to mean?

Well. At a conservative estimate, the repairs will cost around 3,000 euros. But according to the registration, the Nakkita is already 14 years old and its current value is correspondingly low. For the insurance company, this is a total economic loss and, in your case, serious damage to property.

Damage to property? That was an accident. I had to sneeze.

Sure. If you don't mind, I'll just read out the geotracking on your car. You don't mind, do you? I mean… Do I have to confiscate your car for evidence, or will you cooperate?

Burgmeister realized that the policeman had him on the hook and that the whole affair would have repercussions, because the system of his car naturally logged every meter of his way, including speed information, and they would pull a fast one on him. Therefore, he decided to cooperate and not give the policeman any more reason to kick his butt.

What have you done?! Tanja drove at him with tears in her eyes, My Nakky, you broke my Nakky! Why? Were you going too fast, or are you drunk?

Your Nakky? Old pimped-out car, more like, Burgmeister murmured absolutely not empathetic to the woman's feelings.

My beautiful Nakky, Tanja kept saying and tears rolled down her cheeks. At that moment, Schleimer would have loved to take her in her arms to comfort her and love her, she felt so sorry for the little doll.

As sorry as I am, Mrs. Sorg… I'm afraid this is a total loss.

Fourteen years… fourteen years and never so much as a scratch and now… broken, Tanja's voice broke and she began to cry heartbreakingly, so Schleimer took her by the hand and led her back into the house.

Will you please take care of your daughter? She's not really well right now.

Is it that bad? She loves her car.

Unfortunately, yes, Mrs. Sorg. As it stands, it's a total loss and the insurance company will only reimburse the current value.

-*-

Wulfrad had finally let Burgmeister drive. He had previously read out the SUV's system, filled out an accident report, had Burgmeister sign it, urged him to inform his insurance company of the damage in his presence, and informed the man that he would file a criminal complaint.

The team was already back in the patrol car when Schleimer thought of something else and she opened the door again.

I have to see Mrs. Sorg for a moment. Smoke a cigarette and drink your coffee. It will take a moment, she said and went back to the house.

I just thought of something, Mrs. Sorg.

What? asked Tanja, who looked terribly tormented with teary eyes and apparently could hardly calm down.

In Flurweg in Barkhausen is a car repair shop which is specialized in Opel. The owner is also a passionate Nakkita driver and I'm sure she will give you a good price.

You mean for the repair? I thought you said it was a total loss.

Sure. Economically… You know, the insurance company will reimburse you for the current value of the car, probably 2,000 euros at the most, and by law the car then belongs to them. But the insurance companies usually don't insist on repossessing the car in this price range, because they would have to scrap it expensively. So you can use the money to have the damage repaired and can continue to drive your Nakky.

Uh-huh, and why would this woman give me a good price?

Because she is a good friend and has a big heart for girls. Here, take this business card. I wrote a greeting for her on the back.

Nadja, the screwer

Wow, she's delicious, escaped apprentice Thomas Kroll and he whistled appreciatively through his incisors as the brunette hesitantly entered the workshop.

Oups? asked his boss, Nadja Pfeifer, coming around the VW T9 whose engine she was wrenching on, Jou, she's really pretty.

Right up your alley, huh? teased Kroll, because it was no secret that his boss was a lesbian and liked petite, small women.

That's right, kiddo…hello, what can I do for you?

Hi. Are you Mrs. Pfeifer?

That's me.

I'm here because… So your friend, the policewoman…

Rosy?

Yes, Roswitha Schleimer. She said you could fix my Nakky.

Your Nakky? You mean a Nakkita?

Yes. A '33 GTC. I had a hit earlier and the back is all busted up.

Well, let's take a look, Pfeifer said, cleaning her hands and taking Tanja by the hand to be led to her car.

Oooh, that's a fancy one. That's a special paint job?

Yes, Cost me 2,000 euros extra at the time.

It's painted like that from the factory?

Yes.

Good, then I can get the varnish, too. Otherwise it would be hard and I'd have to have it specially mixed.

I get it.

Shaking her head, Nadja circled the car, mentally calculating the cost of repairs.

Who wrecks such a nice car? Drunk?

Nah. An arrogant asshole in a fat SUV driving way too fast into a residential area. He didn't give a shit that he broke my Nakky.

Are you filing a criminal complaint?

Absolutely, and so are the police.

O.k. Is the key in it?

Here, take it.

All right, I'll take the car up on the hoist to have a look at it from underneath. If the frame has taken a beating, it's going to be hard and really expensive.

Then I hope something isn't broken there, too. I love my Nakky.

How many hands did you get the car from?

I'm the first owner. It's my first car and I paid for it out of my teaching salary back then. Four years I paid good and Nakky never let me down.

Then I hope for your sake that I can get Nakky going again, Nadja said in a low voice, because there were tears in Tanja's eyes again and it was very close to her.

When she got into the car, she saw the copy of the accident report on the passenger seat and decided to ask Tanja to make a copy of it because she could then settle directly with the insurance company.

Ten minutes later it was clear that the frame of the Nakkita had not been damaged and that it was only sheet metal and plastic that needed to be repaired or replaced.

We're in luck with the rim, Tan… er, Miss Sorg. Borbet still has the model in its catalog.

Great. Then I can keep riding the Allus¹. I mean, I don't have to get used to new ones.

Exactly.

And you'll get the rest done? So also the varnish?

Sure. When I'm done with Nakky, she'll be as pretty as she was before.

And how much does it cost? Your friend said the insurance only pays the current value of the car.

Yes. However, the insurance company depends on the expert opinion. I am a workshop partner of Opel and if I handle the matter directly with the insurance company, the appraiser comes to me. He judges the current value not only on the age, but also on the condition of the car and your car is virtually as good as new and in top shape. It's easy to get a value of 4,500 euros, and I can do all that for it.

So it's not actually a total loss?

Nah. It's zero to zero mathematically for the insurance company, and they'll pay.

And you can get by on 4,500?

Sure. You can't forget the girls' discount.

The gi… oh, I see. You tick like that, too.

You too?

Me too.

Fine. So…I price my works based on economics, of course, but with a Nakkita GTC, my heart speaks a word. And when the owner is also so downright pretty and loves her car so much, my heart speaks a little louder.

You think I'm pretty?

Yes, absolutely. You fit my booty pattern perfectly, and if we had met in a bar somewhere, I would have pulled out the big digger.

And do you make your calculation dependent on anything?

Oops, you mean… Nah. I certainly don't expect anything from you in that regard. You get the girl discount and that's it.

O.k. Then I would… whereas… you're wearing a wedding ring. So I'd better not.

Oh? So the ring…I just wear that out of habit. I've been divorced for a few years.

So would there be room for me? I mean, I think you're very pretty too. Really tasty, even, and I like you.

Nadja examined Tanja's 161 centimeters attentively, looking for signs of calculation in her face, but she looked at her openly and honestly, obviously speaking from the heart.

You really think I'm pretty? Am I not too big and too… well… too much woman for you?

Nah, you're just right. How did you say? You fit perfectly into my booty pattern. I like when she's a little bigger and stronger. I like when there's something I can snuggle up to, and you're certainly not too much woman, but just right.

Tanja looked openly at Nadja and then spontaneously added:

And I would love to have such a nice bust size myself, but on me it would probably look silly. I mean, D cup size on me wouldn't look really great, would it?

They're not D. They're C, Nadja amused herself, and yours are A, right? Just what I like.

Somewhere between A and B. Heavens, we're chatting about our tits.

Tjo… There's no bra showing under your little dress. So they're nice, tight and handy.

Now before I go crazy. Let's get the paperwork done and…shit…I do need a car.

So, you're entitled to a rental car. You get a fancy Astra from me for the duration of the repair. I'll sort it out with the insurance company… By the way, they've just sent an e-mail. The assessor is coming tomorrow and the preliminary approval has already been received.

Nadja picked up the phone, dialed a number and spoke briefly, giving the transaction number given by the insurance company and asking for the green light for the rental car. After two minutes, she ended the call and looked at Tanja with a smile.

The Astra is a cinch, sweetie. It's a little smaller than the Nakkita, but that shouldn't be a problem with your 160 centimeters.

161, please. Don't make me smaller than I am, sweetie.

Oups. Then 161. One centimeter more Tanja for me. Here… Sign there and there, please. Then we're done with the paperwork.

Tanja signed with trembling fingers and was glad when Nadja put the documents in a filing cabinet, so the business part was done, because thoughts were racing in her head. As soon as she entered the workshop and saw Nadja, she felt warm because her libido was stirring. She had been without a partner for four years, and since she was a shift supervisor on the night shift, she hardly ever had the opportunity to go out and socialize.

When others were hanging out in the bars, she was working, and when others were doing their day's work, she slept alone in her bed. That didn't fit at all and Nadja was just right for her.

I'll be honest, Nadja.

What?

I admit that I'm horny for you. But that's not all. I don't want to be a snack for you. Do you understand that?

You mean fuck and bye? Nah, nah. I'm not that kind of girl. I'm looking for someone who wants more than just to fuck. And I wouldn't hit on you just for that.

Then I would like to invite you to dinner. I'd actually have to sleep… no, it's Saturday.

You should be asleep by now? So, if it wasn't Saturday? asked Nadja, rising from her seat and circling her desk. Then she took Tanja by the hand, led her to a sofa in a corner of her office and pulled her onto her lap