“Lotte, you are amazing! I love the way you sometimes just say exactly what you are thinking. It’s so spontaneous, and certainly not something I have in me. Sometimes I think that I miss being like that and it’s so wonderful to have you in my life.”
The laughter had given them a break, a timeout in a surreal situation. The food came, and they were able to eat and enjoy it. While they talked Lotte asked her questions and Marie answered as honestly as she could without scaring Lotte. She talked about her childhood, her thoughts on the murder of Lars and Lotte and her way of life; the way Marie saw it.
After dinner they had dessert, a couple of Piña Coladas served in a pineapple, and the talk continued.
“So basically, you travel the world killing assholes and then shop for designer clothes?” Lotte said fascinated though frightened at the same time. “Aside from the murder it sounds wonderful. I could definitely live that life.” By the third Piña Colada she was getting pretty tipsy. “Since I’m so good at attracting those assholes, can’t we travel together? I’ll attract them, you kill them, then we go shopping.”
“It is not for fun, Lotte. I have a mission.” Marie said, trying to be serious. “You need to go home, back to your job. Find a good man and have children. Being a hunter is a full time job and it has risks I don’t think you want to be exposed to. It has a price.”
“Everything has a price, Marie. Going back to my job and marrying and having kids has a price and it’s certainly not as exciting or dangerous. Give me a chance. Take me on one trip.”
“You are on a trip. You know? Lars and so on!”
Lotte giggled. “Oh, Marie, that doesn’t count. I was not involved in the process.” She looked at her pineapple. “These Piña Coladas are so good that I think I’ll marry one now that I’m single!”
After Lotte finished another drink a man in white whispered something in Marie’s ear.
“We have to go,” Marie told Lotte.
“Pfft, just tell them that you’re a serial killer. They should just shut up and do what they’re told. That is the meaning of their life, after all.”
Lotte was unsteady and flushed with drunkenness so pulled her up to her feet and helped her back to the car. After a few minutes of driving she was fast asleep.
After reaching their hotel again Marie gently shook Lotte awake. She rubbed her eyes, blinked a few times and staggered across the lobby like a sleepwalker. Lotte’s mind flooded with the day’s events and at that point she proclaimed she needed more alcohol, but Marie just helped her move in the direction of her room. As they neared her suite they passed an employee of the resort and Lotte grabbed him by the arm and said “Piña Colada.” He nodded, and went to get her what she asked for.
“Look! I can also speak Indonesian!” Lotte said with a drunken slur.
She laughed and was about to topple over, and Marie had to take hold of her to keep her on her feet. Marie got her into her suite and had just placed Lotte on the couch when there was a knock at the door, and the waiter came with two Piña Coladas.
Lotte took a swig. “I believe in God. The combination of coconut and pineapple simply cannot be accidental. This has to be intelligent design.”
Marie said nothing but smiled. She was aware that Lotte was still in shock after the day’s experiences. Standing in front of Lotte, she was just about to suggest that it was bedtime, when Lotte leaned toward her and whispered with her eyes closed:
“It’s so damn cool what you did for me. No friend has ever done anything like that for me. I could never pay you back. This is insane! Completely crazy!”
Marie was tired and lacked clarity of mind, but her alcohol tolerance was much higher than Lotte’s. Marie wasn’t interested in Lotte’s drunken declaration of love. She was interested in going to bed.
“Thank you, Lotte, but it’s bed time now. But that’s okay and you don’t owe me anything.”
“No no, I have to tell you something, Marie!” She breathed in, took another sip, and then fell forward and stuck a hand out to stop herself, grabbing one of Marie’s breasts in the process. She looked at her hand as if it had its own life and then giggled as she removed it.
“Sorry, Marie. Damn, I look up to you. You’re everything I want to be! Well, maybe not the killer part, but frankly, he deserved it … he did. You did the right thing, Marie. He was a bastard. He didn’t deserve to live.”
Lotte swayed backwards and forwards again and nearly fell off the couch, seemingly having lost all ability to coordinate itself with its current state of intoxication.
“I know.” Marie said, moving away from Lotte as she was about to go back to her own suite.
“No! No! Don’t go! If you go away from me I will go to pieces.”
Lotte began to hum and sing a Patsy Cline song about falling to pieces and she looked so goofy that Marie couldn’t help but laugh a little. They sang some verses together as best they could remember, they made up some lyrics and sang too high and then they both collapsed with laughter, Lotte on her couch and Marie on the bed.
Marie laid there looking up at the ceiling and sighed.
“I also want to be more like you, Lotte. You are so spontaneous, and you have a humility that I miss. And you…feel.”
Marie instantly regretted what she said.
“You want to be more like me and I would like to be more like you. So it’s really good that we’re friends!”
They laughed again, but each was now really tired. Half asleep Lotte muttered, “Let’s go out and kill idiots together, Marie. I’ll quit my crappy job and we’ll travel the world with each other killing bastards. For once, I really want to let go and have some excitement in my life; even a sense of danger.”
“Sure, but right now we need sleep,” muttered Marie, but there was no answer.
Marie raised herself and could see that Lotte was out like a light so she got up and went into her own suite, turned on the air conditioner and crawled beneath the thin sheet. She sighed deeply. It had been an exciting day. She was unsure about tomorrow, but she enjoyed the feeling of having exercised justice, to have taken care of Lotte and have had some Piña Colada. She smiled for a moment, and then she was gone too.
30
The next day at breakfast, it was a very pale Lotte that fell into her chair. She wore sunglasses - not because of the black eye Lars had given her. I felt sorry for her as I gave her a smile and tried to guess how she might be feeling. Being beaten and belittled by her boyfriend and then seeing him stabbed to death, could well give her some very conflicting emotions. She might be frightened, hurt, angry, sad, happy, relieved, and she would be exhausted because a moral war would be raging in her.
It would be violent, but by then I could hardly recall how it felt the first time. People who are in emotional turmoil need a strong person to take control and I’m good at that. What I’m not good at is understanding emotions, being able to feel the moment. But Lotte had awakened that in me and I knew I needed to have her with me. I needed to give her what she wanted and needed so she would want to stay with me.
“Do you remember what you said yesterday, Lotte?”
Lotte looked at me with an evasive expression and asked me to remind her of what happened yesterday. I told her she had witnessed her friend stab her boyfriend, had a meltdown, got drunk, sang an old song and passed out. Lotte gave me brief, but pained smile.
“If you had not killed Lars, I would not have drunk so much so it’s your fault I have a hangover!” She turned the corners of her mouth down and I put my hand over hers.
“Yes of course you can blame me since my shoulders are broad enough to carry it all … especially in a Gucci top.”
Lotte laughed but it was obvious that it hurt her. She let out a long groan as she put a hand to her head.
“Marie, I thought of you this morning. There can’t be many people that know what you’re doing.
Why did you share it with me? I don’t know if I am worthy of your trust.”
“I would like to give you a rational response, Lotte. But I can’t. Our friendship feels different. I’m comfortable with you. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt comfortable with another person.”
“It must be just as scary for you as it is to me that my friend is a serial killer?”
“Yes, it is.”
We both gave nervous laughs. It was obvious we were both testing out this relationship. I was suddenly vulnerable. We were both vulnerable. Loose lips could get us in trouble. Neither one of us would like that much. There was a new closeness to us and I had to explore this with caution. I was by no means certain where it would lead.
We got a car with a driver, and headed for the airport. I had booked tickets two days ago for us, when I arranged everything for Lars’ “trip” to Lombok. I’d told Lotte at first that she needed to go home, but, deep down, I’d known that I wanted her with me. We stopped only a few times during the three hour journey, to get some water or to calm Lotte’s stomach, which was outraged by the hangover.
We arrived in time to catch our plane to Hong Kong. I had planned that we would be there for a number of reasons, but now I’d added the need for Lotte to find a completely new style to go with her much broadened outlook on life. Also I needed to know where her head really was before I took her home again.
When we got up in the terminal, I went to the bookstore to find something to read; I can’t sleep during flights. One of my therapists suggested that it might be PTSD. It could very well be, but without a book five hours feels like a very long trip. I found something of interest and got another book that I tucked in my bag where Lotte wouldn’t see it.
While we sat and waited to be called for boarding, Lotte fell asleep. Her nap gave her a clearer head as we boarded and took our seats in the first class cabin and readied ourselves for the flight. Attendants handed out warm cloths that smelled faintly of lemon. It was just what Lotte needed to refresh herself a bit more.
When we were in the air, I told her that I wanted to talk to her about what happened and what she had said. That she wanted to be a team. Not that I expected her to make a decision now but I wanted to see where she was at mentally. It was not my original intention to start anything together, but the opportunity had arisen and I wanted to know how it could be done.
Lotte hesitated and said she would think about it. She would ask more questions as they arose and she needed to collect her thoughts after the fear and violence she’d experienced. I was ready to give her time, but I felt, that she wanted the same thing as me. She just had to get there at her own pace, but maybe with a little encouragement from me. I took the book out of my bag and gave it to her.
She read the title and the text on the back.
“A book about a serial killer?”
“Yes. See it as a “read and learn” book,” I replied and gave her a wink and a smile.
She laughed a little nervously, but opened the book and began to read. Soon she was engrossed in the story.
I wanted to tell her some of the stories from my life but it had to wait. She had to be ready, so she could listen without condemning me - and herself for being my friend. I stopped myself from worrying about Lotte, drank champagne, and started thinking about the things I had to fix in Hong Kong, apart from Lotte’s makeover.
A few business partners had to be visited, some old contacts would be caught up with and then I’d move on to Peter Hansen, the policeman, who should have his ... retirement package.
About the author
Mette Glargaard (born 1966) became a public figure when her narcissistic father, the famous Danish actor Poul Glargaard, committed suicide and blamed her for it, in 2011. She wrote a book about growing up with him and her alcoholic mother. Before that she had 2 bestsellers, which have been published in English:
“Your way to real self-esteem” and “Your Hero’s Journey” - both available on Amazon.com
Today, besides being a succesfull author and psychotherapist, she travels a lot to do speaks and workshops about self-esteem, getting rid of negative patterns and writing books.
Dead Men (Marie and Lotte Book 1) Page 19