Wolf Tones (Standalone Psychological Thriller)

by JJ Marsh

  “He likes you,” said Anton, his voice soft. “I’m not surprised. I can’t tell you what a difference it’s made having you and Leonor upstairs. It feels like a home now. Not just a house.”

  Rolf relaxed into the chair beside him, smiling. “Yeah, it does. If you had seen the place we lived in Bratislava … but that’s all in the past. Are you going to bail on me too, or would you like another drink?”

  Anton dug into a bucket and pulled out two beers. “Let’s have one for the road, OK? It might seem like Trudi’s being bossy, which she is. We have to be on top form tomorrow morning. It’s a piece you might have played a hundred times, but fitting someone new into the quartet requires a major effort from all four of us. Are you looking forward to it?”

  “I am, actually. In fact, I’m looking forward to the whole weekend. I can’t remember the last time Leonor and I spent a night apart. This is an opportunity to do all things she hates.” He was a little drunk and certainly stoned. “I want to go to a bar and order a stein of beer and sing Oktoberfest style. Then I want to cook a meal that involves three different kinds of carbs and eat it in front of the television, watching trashy TV. After that, I want to dance to rock music at a volume which upsets the neighbours.”

  Anton cracked the caps of the bottles and laughed, shaking his head. “If you invite the neighbour around to join you, he probably won’t mind. But rock music is a pretty broad church. What did you have in mind? Here you go.”

  “Thanks and thanks again for your help tonight. I don’t know, something with fast guitars and anthemic lyrics. Nirvana, Arctic Monkeys, Foo Fighters. Something I can dance to in a frenzy and bounce around the apartment as if no one is looking. Or judging.”

  Blue crept across the lawn, clearly on the prowl. He moved so slowly his bell did not make a single sound. He crouched by the hedge, his hindquarters wiggling. Anton and Rolf watched him pounce, miss whatever his target was and stalk off as if the whole enterprise had meant nothing.

  “That cat’s got style,” Rolf observed, taking a swig of his Pilsner.

  “And plenty of it,” agreed Anton. “If I had ten percent of that animal’s cool … Listen, how about a boys’ night tomorrow? I can take you to a traditional Bierkeller where we can eat some stodgy food, drink some classic brews and maybe drop by a music venue to listen to some bands. We have got most of the day to recover on Sunday because the concert isn’t till four in the afternoon.”

  A thrill rushed through Rolf’s body and he took a second to find his voice.

  Anton filled the gap. “Sorry, I’m trying to muscle in on your home-alone weekend. Forget I said anything and play your music as loud as you like.”

  “No, no, I’d like a boys’ night. I really would. I don’t get to hang out with other people very often. Let’s go for it!”

  They touched beer bottles and drank in anticipation of the following day.

  8

  Nerves woke Rolf early, and the first thing he did on getting out of bed was to unlock his phone. He’d texted Leonor an affectionate message before he went to bed and received no reply. It was unreasonable to expect one if she was out with friends. But perhaps she would have checked before bed and responded.

  Nothing.

  He pushed the worry out of his mind and prepared for his day. A shower, followed by an omelette and a double espresso provided sustenance while he read the news on his phone. He collected his cello case, suit bag and hold-all, then went downstairs to knock on Anton’s door.

  After a few seconds, the door opened and Anton’s clean-shaven face greeted him with a bright smile. “See! You’re glad we didn’t have the tequila slammers now, aren’t you?”

  They walked to the bus stop with their instruments and formal wear. The sky was a promising shade of blue and Rolf’s nervousness became anticipation. His phone buzzed in his pocket as they found a couple of empty seats on the bus. He checked immediately for news from Leonor, but it was Trudi, making sure he was already out of bed.

  She was waiting for them outside the church, her hands empty. “On time! Well done, Anton, for keeping him under control.”

  “Nothing to do with me,” he grinned. “Where’s your violin?”

  “Inside. Jun and I set up half an hour ago.”

  Rolf had never been inside this church before, although he’d passed it many times on his walk into the city. There was a stage area in front of the altar, with four chairs arranged in a semicircle. Jun was already seated and rehearsing her part. Rolf stood still to appreciate the acoustics of the building.

  He was last to be ready but that was not due to his inexperience, it was more to do with how much longer it took to set up a cello. It soon became clear that Jun, who played in the orchestra’s second violin section, albeit as their principal, was the quartet’s leader, which seemed to be fine with Trudi’s first violinist ego. Jun waited till they were all in position and gave the nod to begin their rehearsal. The church filled with the sounds of Schubert and Rolf relaxed into the first movement. Having played with Trudi and Jun so often, he found communication with them easy and comfortable. To his surprise, Anton was just as familiar. It was as if the four of them had played together since childhood. When they came to the final bars, Trudi’s eyes were shining. They rehearsed their curtain call, then left the stage with their instruments for the vestry, which doubled as their dressing room.

  Jun laid her violin in its case and turned to applaud them all, starting with Rolf. Anton clapped him on the back and Trudi came over to squeeze his arm.

  “Like a hand in a glove! You fit in perfectly. Any notes, Jun?”

  Jun flicked through her score. “The opening of the Allegro was a little unsteady. We all need to attack it from the first bar. But as this was our first attempt at playing as a quartet, I think we smashed it! OK, we have twenty minutes before the church doors open and half an hour before we are due on stage. I’m going to get changed and put on my make-up. Rolf? You did really well. I don’t want to sound patronising, but the way you fitted in was really impressive.”

  “I agree,” said Anton. “It was a pleasure to hear you play.”

  Trudi groaned. “Enough already! His ego will be out of control if you keep this up. Come on, let’s get ready. I need a good ten minutes to straighten my hair.”

  “Thank you, everyone. Maybe it’s because I know you as friends, but today is more like having fun than working,” Rolf said. “We should do this more often.”

  The vestry had two ante rooms for male and female choristers. Rolf followed Anton to the low-ceilinged room on the right. Anton was telling a story about walking on stage at an outdoor concert and slipping in a puddle. “Mud all over my trousers and no time to change, so I sat at an angle to the audience and played the entire symphony with a wet arse.”

  Rolf laughed, hanging up his suit bag and unpacking his hold-all. “Happens to the best of us. Still, we should count ourselves lucky. At least we don’t have the hair and make-up problem.”

  “Speak for yourself. I take a great deal of care of my hair,” Anton laughed, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He unbuckled his belt and shucked off his jeans. “I even bring my own hair gel.”

  “You could have fooled me. What do you call that? The just-out-of-bed look?” Rolf crossed his arms over each other and pulled off his T-shirt, catching the faint scent of the aftershave Leonor had bought him. Leonor. “Oh, shit!”

  Anton looked up from kicking off his running-shoes. “You forget something?”

  Standing there bare chested, Rolf gazed at his hold-all. “My tie. Normally when I’m performing, Leonor does my tie, because I always make such a mess of it. So when she’s not here, I have a pre-tied one with an elasticated back. I forgot that and brought my regular one. Maybe Trudi or Jun knows how to do it.”

  “Call yourself a member of the SCO and you can’t tie a bow tie? You should be ashamed of yourself. Don’t worry, I learned how to do that aged eleven. Get dressed and I’ll tie it for you.”

  In
dress shoes, silk socks, dinner jacket, tailored trousers, white shirt and cufflinks, Rolf looked almost perfect, every detail exactly right. Apart from the tie. When he was ready and Anton had finished fiddling with his hair, he held out the piece of limp fabric. Anton pulled up a chair and sat knee to knee with Rolf. He reached his arms behind Rolf’s neck to lift his shirt collar. As he folded and tucked and tweaked, he explained what he was doing, so that Rolf could do it himself next time. His face was very close, although Rolf’s chin was lifted to give him space to work. Even so, Rolf could feel Anton’s breath on his neck as he spoke. His fingers brushed Rolf’s chin more than once and Rolf found it difficult to concentrate on his words. Once he had finished, he pulled one end of the tie and undid the whole thing.

  “Right, your turn.”

  “What? I haven’t got time. Do it again for me, please, Anton. I promise I will hire you for bow tie lessons another time. Now I need to do my warm up exercises. Come on, please?”

  Anton met his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that. Come here then.” With a few dexterous movements, he finished the tie and turned Rolf to face the mirror. It looked perfect.

  “Thank you. I’ll buy the beers afterwards. We’d better warm up.”

  The concert was over in what seemed like a couple of minutes. His concentration on his instrument and his fellow players was so intense that he forgot to enjoy himself. Only when the audience burst into delighted applause did he feel that bubbling delight in having contributed to creating a thing of beauty. They took their bows and left the stage. The applause continued for so long, he wondered aloud if they should return for an encore but Jun, with a huge beam on her face, shook her head.

  “Not at a lunchtime concert. Leave them hungry. But I don’t think I’ve heard applause like that for a chamber music recital for a very long time. Lady and gentlemen, we should be very proud of ourselves. Let’s get changed and have a quick celebratory drink. Then I have to get into town. There’s a flash sale happening at Modise and I need some new black dresses. Trudi, do you want to come?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic? Prosecco and shopping is my favourite kind of Saturday afternoon.”

  In the café opposite the church, they commandeered a table outside, resting their instruments and luggage between themselves and the wall behind. They chatted with great excitement about how well the concert had gone and built enthusiasm for tomorrow’s bandstand event. True to her word, Jun had one drink and chivvied Trudi to finish hers. They said their goodbyes and Jun reminded them to get an early night.

  Anton lifted his shoulders to his ears. “Early-ish. I promised to take Rolf out on the town tonight, maybe catch some live music. But rest assured, we’ll be fresh and fragrant by four o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Good luck with the shopping. Hope you find a Schnäppchen.”

  “We will. They don’t call me the Bargain Hunter for nothing.” Trudi tossed the last third of her Prosecco into her mouth. “If you’re looking for live music, Henry hosts some classical jazz on Saturday evenings.”

  Anton and Rolf exchanged a glance. “We were looking for something a little grungier than jazz, but it’s a good tip. Jun, you did a great job today. Thanks, both of you.”

  Jun hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “We all did a great job, and we’ll do it all again tomorrow. Have a good afternoon!”

  Rolf ordered two more beers to thank Anton for his bow-tying skills and they sat in the sunshine, people-watching and talking about the orchestra, Anton’s previous experience and Rolf’s lack of it. Given the ease with which Anton mixed with the orchestra members last night, Rolf was surprised to find his neighbour had come from a working-class background much like his own. Even more unusual was Anton’s openness about his childhood poverty, his scholarship and his sense of being an impostor. Rolf wondered if he would ever feel as comfortable in his own skin as Anton clearly was. Their conversation engaged them so much it was tempting to stay for another, but if they were going out that night, they decided, it was probably best to go home for a few hours.

  “I’ve got some boring chores to get through and then I want to go for a run. Thanks for the beers. What’s your plan for this afternoon?”

  A smile broke across Rolf’s face as he realised he had no plan and no one else had any plans for him. “You know what? I have no obligations whatsoever. I’m going to take my book, sit in the garden and read. If I fall asleep, who’s going to judge me?”

  “No one,” Anton laughed. “Hey, the bus is due in five minutes. We should move.”

  Lunch was not a plateful of carbs, as Rolf had intended, but a sausage and cheese salad with another beer. He ate it on the balcony and sent Leonor a second text, informing her the concert had gone brilliantly and hoping she was enjoying herself. Her reply came in a couple of minutes.

  Well done!

  That was it. He finished his lunch and dumped his dirty plate in the sink. He stripped off to his boxers, found his book and sunglasses and went barefoot into the garden. The sun was strong and after fifteen minutes he got off the grass and moved under the pergola. A light breeze lifted his hair from his forehead. Sleep was whispering in his ear and he decided a ten-minute doze wouldn’t hurt. He reclined the chair as far back as it would go, placed his book on the table and closed his eyes.

  A bell woke him. He dragged himself back to consciousness and his first thought was how cold he’d become. The tinkling sound grew closer and he realised Blue was trotting across the grass towards him, his tail vibrating in the air. He sat up and stroked the cat, rubbing his face and blinking. He must have slept for over an hour. The cloudless sky of earlier was now the colour of dishwater and the light breeze had become a more threatening kind of wind. He stretched, wishing he had bought a blanket or a sweatshirt downstairs.

  “I wondered what he was trying to tell me!” Anton stood in front of his French windows, with a towel around his waist. “Meowing at the window and pawing at the glass usually means he wants to go out, which is why I got him a cat flap. But he was communicating the fact there’s a crazy man sleeping in the garden.”

  Rolf picked up the cat and carried him across the lawn towards Anton. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t judge me.” He put Blue on the ground, and the cat ran past Anton’s legs into his apartment. “He really did come to fetch me indoors,” said Rolf, amused.

  Anton looked up at the sky as large fat raindrops fell on Rolf’s back and darkened the patio stone he stood on. “He did, and just in time. Come through this way or you’ll get soaked. How long have you been out there?” He closed the French windows behind Rolf and put his hands on his hips.

  “A couple of hours, maybe? That’s what three beers at lunchtime does for you.” His eyes took in Anton’s body and stopped himself from staring. “You’ve just been for a run?”

  It took a moment before Anton answered. He seemed to be studying Rolf. “Yeah, I try to do five kilometres every other day. But I could see the weather was about to change so I sprinted home. I just made it, and thanks to Blue, so did you.”

  It might have been the approaching thunderstorm charging the air or it might have been the intensity in Anton’s eyes. A magnetic pull drew Rolf towards Anton and his groin stirred. He tried to lighten the moment. “Are we still going out for beers? If so, I’d better go upstairs and get changed.”

  Anton held his gaze. “We could go out. We could also stay in.” His eyes raked Rolf’s body. “To be honest, I’m liking this look.”

  Rolf froze. His body and mind seemed at war with each other. Physically, he was aroused by the idea of touching Anton’s skin, removing the scraps of fabric separating them and giving in to lust. That was wrong on so many levels. Rolf was straight and in a relationship with his perfect woman. Sleeping with men had only ever been something he’d done out of necessity and Leonor had rescued him from all that. But this was different. He wasn’t selling himself for cash or drugs. He wasn’t renting part of his body in a transaction. Yet still, he felt vulnerable standing there, just after
waking up, cold and almost naked with an obvious erection. He looked away, battling an uncertain combination of desire and fear. He should leave and pretend this conversation never happened. He didn’t move.

  Anton shrugged and walked towards the kitchen. “Hey, it’s all right. If fooling around is not your jam, no pressure. Let’s have a gin and tonic, get changed and go out on the town.”

  In two paces, Rolf was behind him, grabbing his towel. He tore it away and turned Anton to face him. Anton’s eyes darkened. Rolf caught him by the hips and pressed him against his own body. His pulse thumped with a mixture of desire and dread. Sex with men equalled pain. Bristly bruising kisses, teeth biting his cheeks, a heavy body pressing the air from his lungs, rough fingers, parted legs, pain, punches, slaps and strangulation. His eyes were wet and tremors rippled through him from top to toe.

  Anton’s arms slid around his back, holding him close. He rested his cheek against Rolf’s collarbone in a gesture more familiar with reassurance than seduction. Rolf released his grip on his hips and enveloped him in an embrace. They stayed that way for several minutes, the heat of Anton’s body warming Rolf. It was the most erotic moment Rolf could ever remember, and he didn’t like feeling so vulnerable. He pulled away and looked into Anton’s face.

  “I don’t do this sort of thing. Not infidelity. Not men. I don’t want ...” He couldn’t finish, because the actions of his body belied whatever came out of his mouth.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” Anton raised a hand and caressed Rolf’s cheek and chin, running his fingers across his lips with such gentleness, Rolf gasped.

  Rolf pressed his groin against him. “But I do. I want to do everything.”

  Anton’s lips met his with a cautious gentleness, giving him permission to stop at any moment. Rolf had no intention of stopping.

  Apart from trips to the bathroom or kitchen, they spent the next sixteen hours in bed. Around nine o’clock that evening, Anton made Frikadellen, a classic meatball dish, and homemade fries, which they ate in bed while streaming music videos. Blue came to join them and accepted more than one mouthful of meatball. Rolf cleared up and took a shower while Anton went down to the cellar to hang out his laundry. Then they returned to the bed to explore each other further.