"Hello!"
Nathan grunts a couple of times before falling asleep again.
"Hello!"
"Hmm."
Nathan opens his eyes in surprise.
"Where am I?"
He’s completely lost and looks around. It takes a while before he realizes that he’s sitting in his car. Outside, the faint light of morning has arrived.
"Hello, are you OK?"
"What?"
He looks out the window and outside there’s a young man in a police uniform. Nathan sits up and rolls down the window.
"Are you OK?"
"Yes, I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I was out late last night."
The officer raises his eyebrows a little.
"In the office?"
Nathan nods.
"I was with Walter, Walter & Walter until after midnight."
The officer looks at him with disbelief. Nathan can hear the sound of high heels behind the officer and catches a glimpse of the young girl from the reception at Walter, Walter & Walter. She sees him right away and comes back to see what’s happening. There’s a look of surprise on her tired face.
"What’s going on?"
She can’t hide her surprise.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"Oh, my name is Wicky West and I work for Walter, Walter & Walter."
"How fortunate. Do you know this man?"
She nods eagerly and smiles at Nathan.
"Yes, that’s Nathan Wilkins. We met last night at a meeting."
Nathan notices the pride in her voice.
"When did the meeting end?"
"Oh, it was late. After midnight, I think."
The officer nods and looks at Nathan. Then he looks at Wicky who’s still standing there smiling at Nathan.
"Wicky West, that name will take you far. It’s a name you remember."
"Thank you, I think so too. It was expensive to change."
The officer looks straight at her.
"You can go."
She looks surprised, but finally nods at Nathan and then gives the officer an angry look before disappearing in the direction of the elevator.
"Don’t fall asleep in your car in a public place again. We wouldn’t like to be called again."
He raises his eyebrows.
"And by the way, I don’t care who you are."
Nathan looks startled when the officer turns around to join his partner in the car. The officer stops and looks back at Nathan.
"I wish you would focus more on who the good guys are when you are in court."
Nathan rolls his window back up, surprised that the officer knows who he is. ”It’s not important anymore.” He makes up his mind, turns the key and starts the car. While backing out, he feels something he hasn’t felt in many days. He’s hungry. Slowly and disrupting the rest of the traffic, he drives the short distance to his favorite café. The weather is mild and the autumn sun hangs lazy in the sky above him.
"Nathan!"
He’s pleased they still recognize him even though he hasn’t been back since he moved his office outside the city. He chats with the owner who shows him to his old table in the small garden behind the café where the noise from the street is almost gone. He’s alone. The other guests are sitting inside which Nathan finds strange since the little garden is so peaceful and even has a new fountain which trickles away nicely in a corner. Breakfast turns to lunch and the owner comes out to chat with him many times like he always have. Nathan feels at peace. He enjoys the interrupted conversations and looks closely at the birds when they come to drink.
"Look, I’ve put up nesting boxes there and there.
The owner points.
"I hope they will nest next year."
His enthusiasm and lust for life, his hopes and deep conviction that he has built a solid foundation for the rest of his life lifts Nathan’s spirit.
"Can I show you a picture of my son? He’s three."
The owner pulls out his wallet and hands Nathan a picture of a small boy with his hands in the fountain.
"I hope in time he’ll take over the café. That’s why it’s so very important that it’s going well and making money."
Nathan nods and gives him back the picture.
"But Nathan. It’s important to enjoy life."
He looks at Nathan over the rim of his round, dark framed glasses, and Nathan has a feeling that he’s in a small forgotten garden somewhere in Italy. Nathan smiles and knows what comes next. He has heard it before – many times over the years.
The surrounding buildings are blocking out the sun now and Nathan decides that it’s time to leave. He looks at his watch and takes out his phone from his pocket. Petra has called him many times during the morning and also a couple of times in the afternoon. He’s also got a few lost calls from numbers he doesn’t recognize. He keeps the phone in silent mode and puts it back in his pocket. Then he says goodbye to the owner, thanking him many times for a wonderful day. When he’s back in the car, he has made up his mind. He drives into the street and when he reaches the exit that will take him home, he doesn’t take it.
Chapter 20
When the taste of the croissants has almost gone, Fredericsson slowly lifts his head. He is struck by how dirty the car actually is. ”Hmm, note to self, must wash car.” He gets in, but instead of starting the car, he plays around with his key ring before finally putting the key in the ignition. He drives slowly through the beautiful neighborhood, but he misses the children playing in the street. There aren’t any children in the gardens either. Before leaving the neighborhood, he turns right and reaches the outskirts of the neighborhood. The gardens are surrounded by high walls and the landscape begins to drop toward the valley. He drives into the small parking space that he remembers so well. That’s where he asked his wife to marry him. She had hesitated but still said yes. Later, when he had asked her why she had hesitated, he had been surprised by her answer. "We’re both police officers. We might get killed. Our children will grow up with only one of us, or maybe none of us." He gets the chills when he thinks of how prescient she had been. She had lost her life on patrol three years after their daughter was born and had left him as a widower and a single father. All he could do was turn to his parents for help. He smiles. ”They’ve always been there for me when I needed them.” Katrine, which they had called her after his mother, had gotten her own room at the expense of her grandparents. They slept in the living room. Their love for her had made up for his long and irregular hours. He sighs. It has also meant that they had practically raised her. He didn’t see her very often and he felt how she got more attached to his parents than to him. He has become someone representing a previous life. Something that could have been, but was never allowed to be. Something that could never be. Something Katrine had dreamt of all her life. Katrine had looked up to him when she was little. As soon as she could, she had started working to make enough money to get into the school she had dreamt of ever since she had been to a lecture on economy. Since then, she had known what she wanted to do, and she wanted to go to the best school. It had been difficult to raise the money even though she had worked after school. But they had succeeded with a combination of his parents’ savings, his own savings, a loan he had taken and the good will of the local church. She still works after school and she’s doing fine. He knows she will get where she wants to be. But not seeing her is hard for him. They can’t afford the plane tickets – not even for Christmas.
"I really hope she has a normal job."
He bends his head and looks at his hands. He jumps when the phone suddenly rings.
"Hmm."
It’s quiet on the other end.
"Is that Peter Fredericsson?"
"Yes."
"You can’t just say ”hmm”. Then you have no idea who’s on the other end of the line."
Fredericsson holds the phone away from his ear and looks at it for a while as the voice keeps talking.
"Peter, are you there?"
>
"Yes, yes."
He holds the phone to his ear again.
"Yes, I’m here."
"We’ve got another one."
The phone goes quiet again.
"Peter, are you there?"
The voice is eager and tense. Fredericsson breathes heavily. He’s still thinking about his daughter.
"Of course I’m here. I’m just waiting for you to tell me what it is you want."
"Another dead body."
He waits as the phone goes quiet again.
"Yes?"
He asks.
"It’s Eric Taylor."
"Doesn’t ring a bell."
Silence again. Fredericsson is waiting for his boss to say something more.
"Hello, is anybody there."
"Yes, Fredericsson. Eric Taylor is Eric Brown. I guess you haven’t checked your voice mail."
"Hmm."
"He gave a fake name and now he’s dead. Someone broke his skull with a champagne bottle. The address is..."
"Erick Taylor is Eric Brown. That’s interesting... and he’s dead. Interesting."
"Yes, it looks like there’s a connection.
"Hmm."
Fredericsson’s mind is already working overtime.
"And Peter?"
The line goes quiet again. Fredericsson looks out over the valley while he waits for his boss to go on.
"It’s in the same circles. Where people make more money in one day than we do in a year."
"Yes, I suppose that’s true."
"His parents..."
"Can we move on? All I can think of right now is coffee."
"Yes, sure. Did I wake you?"
Fredericsson is distracted and fumbles around with the dashboard.
"Are you there?"
"Yes, damn it. But when will I ever have time to do the paperwork?"
A snort hits Fredericsson’s ear and he holds out the phone, looking at it with surprise. Then he puts it on speakerphone as he scratches his ear. The voice sounds calmer when it goes on.
"A woman called up anonymously a few minutes after half past two. We sent a car over and they found him naked on the couch. Dead. No sign of the woman. They called it in at four minutes past three. That’s…"
It’s quiet for a moment.
"…seven minutes ago."
Fredericsson finishes the sentence.
"Since you’ve just left Nathan Wilkins’ place, you can take this one as well. You seem to get along well with rich people."
It’s quiet while Fredericsson fishes out his notepad.
"Fredericsson, are you there?"
"Yes, yes, hang on."
He flicks through the pages of his notepad and then he smiles.
"Evy Schmidt had been at Nathan Wilkins’ office just before she was attacked, and guess who I ran into at her apartment?"
Fredericsson waits for an answer, but doesn’t get one, so he goes on.
"Eric Brown, or Taylor, which seems to be his real name."
It’s quiet again and Fredericsson stares into space.
"Who ends up getting murdered today."
"Webs. Fredericsson. Webs. Find the spider."
"By the way, is it Fredericsson now instead of Peter?"
Another loud snort fills the car and Fredericsson looks at the phone and smiles. ”Thank God it’s on speakerphone, so my ear was spared this time.”
"Since you’re being so funny, here’s the address!"
Fredericsson reaches out for his pen on the dashboard, but the address has already been said and his boss has hung up. He writes down the address and puts the notepad in his pocket. His thoughts return to his daughter and he leans his head against the headrest and closes his eyes. His breathing becomes deep and regular.
He jumps when the phone rings.
"Yes."
His voice is slow and unfocused. It’s quiet on the line.
"Where are you?! Are you sleeping?"
Fredericsson breathes heavily and looks out over the valley as he rubs his eyes.
"Hmm, no."
"They’ve called. They’re waiting for you. Are you on your way there?"
Fredericsson starts the car and pulls out his notepad.
"Is it 2190?"
He puts the car in gear and turns slowly onto the road.
"No, it’s 3190. Are you on your way?"
"Yes."
He thinks briefly on Petra and her twos and smiles.
"How far away are you?"
He looks at the clock in the dashboard – almost three thirty.
"Pretty far."
He hangs up the phone and speeds up as he runs his hand through his hair, well aware that he’ll hit rush hour. He gets caught in traffic several times and notices that he’s not the only one looking exhausted - almost everyone around him does, and they are all clearly impatient. One person drums his fingers against the dashboard, another one is biting his nails and a third person in talking so loud on the phone that he can hear the whole argument about who was supposed to have picked up the kids. He sits down lower in his seat trying to keep his eyes on the road ahead of him. Slowly the smell of coffee sneaks in through the air condition system and he instinctively rubs his nose. Then he starts to look around and soon sees the coffee shop up ahead.
"That’s not fair!"
It almost sounds like he’s in pain. The line moves forward a little and the shop comes closer. Another couple of yards and he’s right next to it.
"It’s right there. That’s not fair."
He scratches his neck and feels a sting, but he keeps his eyes on the entrance. He sees a young man exiting with a cup of coffee in one hand while he’s texting with the other. He stops on the pavement and Fredericsson can tell from his body language that he’s pressing send. Fredericsson smiles and shrugs, then he rolls down the window.
"Hey you!"
The young man looks around, but has clearly gotten a text back and looks back down on his phone.
"Hey you!"
Fredericsson’s voice is loud and clear, but the young man doesn’t react. A teenage girl walks over to his car.
"Who are you shouting for?"
Fredericsson jumps when her voice suddenly fills the car. She is standing calmly next to the car and has bent down a little so she can see him. He shakes his head slightly.
"Right, I just thought since you keep shouting."
"Stop. Stop."
Fredericsson smiles.
"I was just surprised. I was shouting at the young man over there. I want to buy his coffee."
She raises her eyebrows.
"You want to do what?"
"I’ve been on duty for a long time. A very long time actually, and coffee is almost the only thing on my mind."
She laughs a little.
"Know what that’s like. I work nights sometimes. What are you drinking?"
"Anything with caffeine in it."
Fredericsson feels liberated as he laughs.
"Anything with caffeine in it."
He repeats. The driver behind him honks his horn and Fredericsson notices that the car in front of him has moved a couple of yards. The teenage girl looks at the car behind him.
"That’s not good."
Her voice is still full of smiles.
"You can buy mine, but it’ll cost you."
Her laughter fills the car and he feels a stab of longing for his daughter.
"You remind me of my daughter when she was your age. How much will it cost me?"
The girl lets out a small grunt.
"Try me."
He accepts her challenge, shakes his head and pulls out a bill, but she shakes her head. Then he pulls out another one, but she shakes her head again.
"Don’t push your luck."
"Try doubling that. It’s still warm and fresh and you said you didn’t care as long as it had caffeine in it… Or did you change your mind?"
He laughs and pulls out one more and hands them to her.
"Take it or leave it.
"
This time he’s challenging her. The driver behind him honks his horn again. Fredericsson feels how anger rushes through him when he looks in the rearview mirror. The teenage girl reaches out for the money, but Fredericsson pulls them back a little and then he smiles.
"Give me the coffee."
She laughs.
"I had to try."
She’s still laughing as she hands him the coffee. He feels the heat from the cup and a feeling of expectation fills him. But she holds on until he lets go of the money. She nods and laughs and disappears behind the car. He carefully puts the cup to his lips and sips at the coffee.
"Ohh."
He takes another careful sip.
"I wonder what this is."
He lets the sweet taste fill his mouth and looks at the cup before carefully placing it in the cup holder.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
He closes the window so the air condition can do its job. The driver behind him keeps honking his horn.
"Get down from that horn, will you?!"
Fredericsson slowly lets his car roll forward 15 feet before he has to stop again because the line is still there. While Fredericsson drinks his coffee, he uses the rest of the time in the line watching the man in the car behind him. As time passes, he gets more and more convinced that he’ll actually have to call an ambulance since the man is getting more and more red in the face.
Chapter 21
Not until sometime later does Nathan choose an exit. He feels a little stiff after spending most of the day on a café chair and several hours in the car. The scenery changes as he drives on, the road gets more and more winding and the mountains appear in the distance. The water in the lake reflects the tree tops and he can hear a goat in the distance. The gravel crunches under the tires and he stops in front of the little shop where he and Denize have always loved to shop. They loved the whole experience of coming there. The small bell in its twisted holder over the door. They used to say that the bell had probably been there since the industrial revolution and that it was made by a blacksmith with a huge beard.
Devil's Touch Page 17