by Willow Rose
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Asta has also lost her daughter from that playground I was talking about," he said pensively.
I was about to leave when I suddenly stopped. "She did?"
"Come to think of it, I believe Asta's daughter was the first one to go missing. It was back in '97. The story is that she went a little nuts after losing her daughter. She was admitted several times to an institution on the mainland before she finally found the passion for dolls to keep her sane. She works as a taxidermist, you know, stuffs animals for museums and people who want them in their houses. The dolls are just her hobby and she sells them to Helle for extra profit as far as I know. It's a little sad, her story that is. We used to call her Miss Polly. Because of the song, you know. And all her dolls. She has the house filled with them and she treats them like real children. She dresses them every day and puts them in a stroller and takes them for a walk. Some people say she even feeds them and talks to them all day. Guess it's a little sad."
Chapter 51
April 2013
The woman was often gone for hours at a time. Josephine was left in the darkness only accompanied by Django who was put in the room with her to make sure she didn't try and escape.
Josephine no longer knew how long she had spent in the cage in the woman's basement. And she was getting too tired to think about it anymore. All she wanted to do was to sleep. The woman had hardly given her any food, only a few crackers now and then that she fed her through the bars. Josephine could feel that she was losing weight. Her arms had become very thin and the skin on her stomach was drooping. Every day the woman would come down to the basement and feel the skin on Josephine's arm. It reminded Josephine of the story of Hansel and Gretel only it didn't seem like she wanted Josephine to get fatter.
Josephine didn't understand it at all. If the woman wanted to eat Josephine didn't she want her to be fat? Why didn't she feed her then? It made no sense.
Josephine was too tired to even try and plead with her anymore. The first days she had begged and pleaded for her to give her more food, but the woman had pretended not to hear. She was good at that. Only Django seemed to listen when Josephine spoke.
Josephine sighed in the darkness. She tried to move to change position, but her body was aching all over. It was truly painful. She was so tired of being in this cage, so tired of being afraid of what was going to happen to her, so tired of lying awake all night listening to her stomach growl, feeling the pain of hunger.
Django lifted his head and looked at her. Since she had gotten skinnier Josephine was now able to put her arm out through the bars and reach Django. She petted him on his head. He seemed to like that. They had become quite good friends lately and as long as Josephine stayed put he was very nice to her. As soon as she tried to shake the bars or scream or fiddle with the lock, he would start growling and snapping his teeth at her. If she behaved he was really nice. And since he was her only companion in this godforsaken basement, Josephine tried to be good. She succeeded most of the time.
Josephine heard a rattle behind the door and knew the woman was unlocking it from the outside. She drew back her arm and looked at the door opening with anxious eyes. The woman entered. She was humming as usual.
Django got up on his feet and ran towards her while wagging his tail. "Hi there, buddy. How are we doing today? Is she behaving?" she asked patting his back.
Django made a satisfied grunt. The woman pulled out a treat from her pocket and gave it to him. Josephine listened to the crunching sound coming from his mouth as he ate the treat and wished so badly that she could get one, too.
Mommy I'm so hungry. Please come find me. Please help me.
Josephine knew her parents had to be searching for her and for days she had thought about finding a way to communicate with the outside world, but without any luck. She wished so badly that she was able to tell the world where she was, to scream to people walking by in the street outside of the house. But she had already tried. Screaming didn't get her anywhere. It only made her unpopular with the old woman and Django.
The woman approached Josephine's cage and looked at her like she was examining her.
"Give me your arm," she said.
Josephine obeyed and stuck out her arm between the bars. The old woman felt it and pulled the skin. "Yes, yes. I think you're right. It's looking good now, Django. I think she is ready for the next step."
Josephine gasped as the woman pulled her loose skin hard again. Then she smiled. "We're gonna peel all that skin of you like you were a chicken, aren't we Django? Yes we are. All of this nice loose skin will come right off once we get started, just you wait and see. And then we're gonna stuff you like a bird. Yes. I think we are. To make you last forever and ever. To make you stay beautiful forever. Isn't that wonderful…baby doll?"
Chapter 52
April 2013
We spent all day and most of the evening at the hospital in Esbjerg, the town on the mainland closets to the island. Helle was stable they told us, but not awake yet and they weren't expecting her to wake up any time before tomorrow, but it might also take longer than that. Maybe even several days. She had lost a lot of blood and they couldn't tell us yet if there had been any damage to her brain.
Later they told us to go home and get a good night's rest. There wasn't really much for us to do but wait and we might as well do that at home. So we did. We took the ferry back to the island and made it home before midnight. Maya and Victor were exhausted so I got them to bed right away. My dad was sitting in the kitchen when I came back down.
"Can I get you anything?" I asked.
He was sitting with his head bowed. Now he looked at me. I hated to see him like this.
"What do you say we grab a beer?" I asked.
He nodded heavily. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out two beers. We drank in silence for a little while. I put my hand on top of his. He sipped his beer and swallowed. Then he looked at me.
"I just don't understand why," he said. "You say this killer has many victims on his conscience, but why of all the people in the world would he pick Helle?"
I shrugged. "Why would he pick the young girl at the auditions? I think we all want an explanation, but maybe there isn't one. Maybe he just picks his victims randomly, victims of opportunity."
My dad sniffled and drank again. "Maybe you're right."
"Can you think of any reason why anyone would have anything against Helle?" I asked.
"Nah. You're right. She's just a nice lady with a funny shop. Why would anyone want to harm her?"
My dad finished his beer then looked at me. "That hit the spot. Do you mind me crashing here?"
"I was expecting you to. Take any room upstairs."
He growled and got up. "I would have sworn I'd never have to sleep in this awful house again, but I really don't want to be alone tonight, you know?"
I smiled. "I know, Dad. You're always welcome here."
My dad grunted and left the room. I still had way too much adrenalin in my blood to be able to sleep so I pulled a second beer from the refrigerator. I went into the living room and grabbed my computer. I started researching the bowtie killer. Using what my ex-boyfriend once taught me, I hacked into the Danish police force's central database and found all the files and cases and went through them one after the other. [P1] He had killed many over the years, but mostly younger women and teenage girls. Not one of them had been older like Helle. It surprised me, but then again it could just be a coincidence. I scrolled through the notes the two officers working on the case had written and then stopped. A particular sentence stuck out to me. One of the theories the police were working with was that the killer was some kind of stalker of the TV show Shooting Stars. They based the theory on the fact that most of the killings happened on the last night the TV show was in town or right after they had left town. That caused the police conclude that someone was following the TV show around killing people in its tail.
I looked up and drank some more of
my beer. Hadn't anyone thought about the fact that it might be someone connected to the TV show instead? I thought to myself. There were hundreds of people working on a show like this. One of them could easily be a psychopath. Sick people were everywhere and often a guy like this, a true psychopath, was brilliant at hiding, at blending into a crowd. At least that was what I had read.
I returned to my computer and tried a new approach. I knew my dad was going to hate me for this, but I did it anyway. I hacked my way into Helle's computer in her shop and started going through her stuff. A lot of it was personal and I promised myself to never tell my dad about anything I encountered in there.
I checked her emails to see if anyone had contacted her in the last couple of days, maybe someone from the TV show, but found nothing. I moved on to check her Internet browsing history the last few days. She had been visiting a lot of pages about dolls, then Facebook, some news websites where she mostly read stuff about royalty and celebrities. Then there were literally hundreds of pages where she had read about the disappearance of Josephine Gyldenstjerne, the lost Countess, as they had named her. It wasn't so strange that she would be interested in that case since she naturally saw many similarities with her own story. I sighed and leaned back into the couch. I pulled the laptop onto my chest and found a way into Helle's web-bank by guessing her password, which happened to be dollbaby. I drank the rest of my beer and almost dropped it when the page opened up and I saw how much money she had in her account.
I stared at it for a long time to make sure I wasn't mistaken. Then I closed the lid of the computer and brought it with me up the stairs. As I turned off the light and lay under the covers, I knew I was going to have to break my promise to myself.
Chapter 53
April 2013
I had printed everything out for my dad to see when he got down the next morning. I knew it was a little much for him after what he had been through the day before, but I had to show him. I couldn't know this and not tell him. Why she had chosen to keep it a secret from my dad was her business, she probably had her reasons, but there was no way I could keep this from him. The damage was done.
I was still bent over the stove making scrambled eggs when I heard a grunt behind my back. I turned and smiled.
"Good morning, Dad."
"Humph. Where are the kids?"
"They've left for school. It's Monday."
I poured him some coffee and placed it in front of him. He grunted something that was probably supposed to be a thank you. My dad had never been a morning person and today less than ever.
"Any news about Helle?" I asked.
He shook his head. "They promised they would call if she woke up. I slept with the damn phone next to my head all night. Now I have the worst headache. I'm not so sure these things are healthy for you."
"Here have some orange juice," I said and poured him a glass. "I'm also making eggs."
My dad shook his head and growled. He drank the juice. "I'm not hungry, but thanks. I'd like to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I want to be there when she wakes up. They said it was going to be today."
"Dad, they said it might be today. There is a difference."
He grunted dissatisfied. "Whatever."
I put the papers on the table in front of him.
"What's that?" he said.
I sat down with my coffee cup in my hand. "Look, Dad. I know you're going through a lot of stuff right now, but I did some research last night and I think there are some things you need to know about Helle."
He looked startled. "Like what?"
I took out a piece of paper and pointed at the number on top showing the total amount of money on her account. My dad whistled impressed. He took it from my hand and looked again. "That's a lot of money."
"It's Helle's bank account."
My dad laughed. "No. It can't be. You must be mistaken."
"I hacked into her bank account last night and this is what I found."
"You hacked into her banking account? Why on earth would you do such an awful thing?"
"I was checking out her personal stuff to make sure she hadn't spoken to someone or chatted with someone that might be the killer."
"But still. Emma. She is my girlfriend. You're not allowed to do something like that. It's private. Besides, why her bank account? I can understand her email and things like that, but her bank?"
I blushed. He was right. I had no explanation. I had been curious, that was all, but it was no excuse. I felt bad and tried not to show it. "It doesn't matter. The fact is I did it and I can't help wondering where she got all those millions from. Haven't you ever wondered where she gets her money from? I mean it's definitely not the small shop downtown. If anything, she's only losing money on that."
He shrugged. "Maybe she inherited the money, maybe she won the lottery or maybe she got it in the divorce from her ex. Who knows?"
"Maybe. Was he rich?"
"Not that I know of." My dad sipped his coffee. "I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation to all of this," my dad said and got up from the chair.
"I'm sure there is. And it's none of my business, I know that."
I put my coffee cup in the sink and looked at my dad. He suddenly seemed so old. Maybe it was just the sadness in his eyes. I was overwhelmed with guilt. Should I have kept quiet about this after all? No, done was done. My dad needed to know this. He deserved to know, and even if it turned out to be nothing at all, I still wanted him to know. After all, it was going to come out anyway once the police started investigating her to see if there was any motive for attacking her. This was a good motive. Money was always a good motive.
"Do you want me to take you to the hospital to see her today?" I asked.
My dad nodded. "That would be nice, thanks."
Chapter 54
April 2013
It had gone wrong, terribly wrong. Patrick felt like a failure when he drove towards the port where tonight's big show was going to take place. They were building the stage now and Patrick was supposed to have been at the noon briefing several minutes ago.
But somehow he just wasn't quite in the mood for it. Not for any of it. It wasn't like a catastrophe, he had managed to hurt the red-haired woman like he wanted to and she had even looked at him and known at that instant that it was revenge, that it was her past coming back to haunt her. But he hadn't managed to kill her or leave his mark, his brand behind. Someone had interrupted him and he'd had to run.
"Damn it," he mumbled and hit his fist on the leather seat.
Hanne, sitting next to him in the island's only limousine which they had rented for the day, looked at him. "What's up with you today?" she asked.
Patrick pulled out one of his famous smiles. "Nothing. Just excited about the show," he said emotionlessly.
Patrick had heard about the woman on the radio in the morning while he was in the shower. They had said that a woman was found yesterday in her own shop where someone had attempted to murder her, but apparently the killer was interrupted and ran off.
Attempted?
Yes, that meant she was still alive in the hospital on the mainland. Yes, that meant the doctors believed she was going to survive, the speaker said.
"It's the first time a victim has survived an encounter with the bowtie killer," were the last words Patrick heard before he threw the radio against the mirror and broke both.
Survived? The fucking bitch was still alive?
Patrick clenched his fist and fantasized about knocking Hanne out while in the car. He restrained himself. At least the woman wasn't awake yet and couldn't speak. The speaker on the radio had said so. She was still unconscious. That meant she couldn't spill the beans on Patrick just yet. That meant he still had time to finish his project, to finish what he'd come back for. That, at least, was something. Patrick burst into laughter thinking about what he had planned for later today, this afternoon before the big show. They always gave him a couple of hours to rest and get himself all psyched up for the big
show. Oh, he was going to get psyched up alright. No doubt about that.
Patrick laughed again. Hanne stared at him again. He smiled crazily. She looked confused. Then she shook her head.
"You sure are something, Patrick." The limo entered the area in front of the stage next to the port. Screaming fans approached the windows and started knocking while pressing their breasts against the car.
"Patrick, Patrick, Patrick."
Hanne scoffed. "I still don't get it. Maybe I never will. But they do love you. So do the producers. But only as long as you bring home the ratings, you understand that? One bad move that makes people switch the channel or turn off the TV, and you're out of here. That's the way it works, okay, baby doll?"
Patrick turned his head and looked at her. For years he had looked for a good reason to kill Hanne other than her being a complete pain in the neck. He had been going back and forth on the subject not knowing if he wanted to or not, waiting for the perfect time, the perfect excuse.
And here she was handing it to him on a silver platter.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Patrick?" she asked and pulled away from him.
He laughed manically. Then he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. She protested heavily but Patrick grabbed her around the neck and started to squeeze it holding her down with the weight of his body so she couldn't move. He forced his tongue into her mouth while she fought to get him off. As soon as he let go of her lips she started screaming, but his grip on her throat was too tight for much other than spurting sounds to emerge. Patrick smiled and stroked her gently across her face before he knocked her out with a head-butt. After that she didn't fight much as he strangled her, once again feeling the almighty thrill of power and control. He panted and leaned back in the leather seat finally feeling like his good old self again.