Wolf Tones (Standalone Psychological Thriller)

by JJ Marsh

  Rolf wrinkled his nose. “That cat has an attitude problem. Look, if this is a bad time …”

  Anton’s eyes dropped to the shopping bag. “What have you got there?”

  “Some seafood, a bottle of champagne and some ice cream. I wondered if you’d like to share it with me?” His toes curled inside his trainers. “Nothing spicy, I promise.”

  Anton’s smile spread slowly. “Why don’t you go into the garden and let me finish cleaning up here. I’ll be out in five minutes. As for the spice, we can add our own.”

  Rolf’s stomach did a full back flip and he managed to mumble, “Right, see you outside.”

  The evening sky echoed the meal. Mackerel clouds swam in shoals on a salmon-pink sky. Rolf and Anton ate the seafood with fresh bread, drank the champagne, fed Blue the leftovers and talked as if they’d known each other far longer than a few months. The conversation ranged over so many topics Rolf couldn’t even remember them all. He over-analysed every single remark, wondering if last night had been a one-off occasion and they were now back to nothing more than musical colleagues. His urge to kiss Anton inflamed his lips to the extent that he felt like a puffer fish.

  “... their dresses.”

  Rolf, his mind elsewhere, had missed Anton’s comment. He played for time. “How do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you notice? They work together perfectly. Trudi’s height and upright posture beside Jun, so slight and fragile. I think they make a striking pair, even down to their dresses.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Both stunners. We make a handsome foursome.” Rolf’s efforts to turn the spotlight onto themselves was painfully obvious. “You know, I think Trudi has a bit of a thing for me. I’ve tried not to get too cosy, because I don’t want to lead her on.” His comment did not provoke the kind of reaction Rolf wanted.

  Anton laughed so much he had a coughing fit. “Sorry, oh God, I nearly choked. I can promise you, if Trudi was interested, she’d tell you. Don’t confuse her friendliness with anything else. She’s a good person, with a kind heart. But she won’t take any shit. Of all the people in the world, she’s the last person anyone could lead on. You finished?”

  Anton collected all the empty cartons and took them into his kitchen. Rolf panicked, wondering if he’d upset him and should go. He watched Blue wind himself between Anton’s legs, demanding whatever was left of their fishy feast. The champagne bottle was empty and he was desperate to find some reason for them to stay together, to keep talking. Anton emerged once again, coming up the steps with something in his hand.

  “And now for dessert. You know, chocolate is my favourite flavour ice cream. You have good taste, Herr Jaro. The only question is, do we eat it in the garden?” He dropped his voice. “Or in bed?”

  Rolf was on his feet in a second.

  It was after midnight and they were watching a film with the lights off when the front door slammed closed. Rolf and Anton stared at each other and muted the sound. Footsteps were climbing the stairs to Rolf’s flat.

  “Leonor!” he whispered in strangled tones.

  “Get dressed quick and go into the garden. You fell asleep after drinking a full bottle of champagne. Hurry!”

  Rolf grabbed his clothes in the darkness and fumbled to get them on. Anton opened the French windows and thrust the empty bottle into his hand. Rolf scurried up the steps and into the pergola, where he lay in the reclining chair, squinting at the lights upstairs. He heard the balcony door open.

  “Rolf?”

  He gasped as if someone had shaken him awake.

  “What are you doing down there?”

  “Leonor? You’re back already?”

  “Looks like that way to me. What are you doing down there in the dark?”

  “Mmm, dunno. Fell asleep. Got carried away celebrating and drank too much. I’ll come up. Hang on a minute.”

  She closed the balcony doors and went inside. He strained his eyes to make out anything in Anton’s apartment but all was in darkness. On his way up the stairs, he checked himself for any giveaway signs as to where he had been. The apartment door was open and Leonor was in the kitchen, making herself a drink. Ice, lemon and a generous measure of gin.

  “There you are! Let me look at you. My God, what a state! And all this because you played a bandstand gig? What will you be like after a proper concert? Come here and kiss me. I missed you. I’m making us a nightcap.”

  Rolf couldn’t kiss her with the scent of Anton all over him. “One sec, I need an urgent piss.” He left the kitchen before she could protest and locked himself in the bathroom. A shower would look suspicious, but he had to wash the smell of sex and chocolate ice cream from his skin. He had a brisk cool shower and pulled on his bathrobe. She’d been drinking, he could tell, which meant she’d be horny and unlikely to take no for an answer. There was only one was to play this. Stick to his role of naïf, overcome with excitement and now paying the price. He’d worry about the rest of it tomorrow.

  He entered the living room and sat on the sofa, groaning, his head in his hands. She came to stand in the kitchen doorway, carrying two glasses.

  He looked up. “Not for me. I feel like death warmed up. I am never drinking again.”

  She laughed and came to sit next to him. “That bad, huh? Hair of the dog?”

  He pushed her hand away. “Don’t. The smell makes me want to puke.”

  “You’re such a lightweight. Champagne shouldn’t give you a hangover, if it’s a quality brand. On Saturday night, I drank Laurent Perrier until three in the morning and I got up fresh as a daisy. That party Le Duc threw for me was too fabulous for words, Rolf, I’m telling you. You wouldn’t believe the number of famous faces and old friends I met. He hired a band and we danced for hours. I had to take my shoes off and dance barefoot on the grass. It was absolute bliss!”

  “Sounds like fun,” Rolf managed. “How come you’re back early?”

  “I’m not. I told you the train would get in around eleven. I took a cab from the station and here I am. Kiss me!”

  He obeyed and she nibbled his lower lip, then forced her tongue into his mouth. Her glass pressed against his neck and her left hand slid to his crotch.

  He pulled away with a jerk, causing a little of her drink to slosh over the rim and onto her dress.

  “Sorry, but I’m going to ...” he ran for the bathroom and closed the door. He waited a moment before flushing the toilet and brushing his teeth. Gingerly, he emerged and saw her standing on the balcony.

  She turned at his approach. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m sorry, that was poor timing. It’s just the stink of gin turned my stomach and I had to ... I’m sorry. Maybe I should drink some water and go to bed.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably best. Tonight. But tomorrow, we’ve got some catching up to do.” Her gaze dropped to his crotch and he had an urge to hide. Something else was bothering him.

  “Anyway, I was very rude to rush off in the middle of our conversation. You were explaining why you came home early.”

  She shook her head, dismissing the question. “I’m not home early. I booked a ticket out on Friday morning and a return for Sunday night.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s now quarter to one on Monday morning so if anything, I’m late.”

  “But you said you were staying over on Sunday night. You told me one of your friends was only available then, remember? And when I sent you a message this morning asking what time tomorrow, you said around eleven but plans were still fluid.”

  She drew her brows together and looked at him askance. “How much have you been drinking this weekend? I never had any intention of staying over on Sunday. I have pupils later today. Maybe I misunderstood your message. My answer was about today. 11pm.”

  “No, you definitely said you’d changed your mind and planned to stay an extra night.”

  She turned her back to him and looked out over the garden. A rush of possessiveness overtook him. The garden belonged to him, Anton and Blue. She sh
ouldn’t even be looking at it.

  “Go to bed, Rolf. I can deal with you getting drunk but I can’t deal with your imaginary conversations, not after the wonderful weekend I’ve had. Goodnight.” She stalked into the kitchen and picked up the second gin and tonic, before flopping onto the sofa, flicking on the TV with the remote.

  Rolf wanted to pursue the matter even if it did escalate into a row, but he simply did not have the energy. He left the room and closed the door so the sounds of whatever horrible show she was watching did not pollute the bedroom. He undressed, removed his phone from his pocket and chucked all his clothes into the laundry basket.

  There was a message from Anton.

  Congrats on your first outdoor quartet performance! You fit like angegossen. As for the practice sessions you mentioned, of course! Happy to help. Let me know when you’re free.

  Warmth spread through Rolf’s entire body. Anton was so subtle and discreet.

  Thank you! I felt completely comfortable and thoroughly enjoyed myself. It’s generous of you to spare the time to coach me. Is Saturday a possibility?

  Anton’s reply was instant. Two thumbs-up emoticons.

  Rolf got into bed, feigned sleep and relived the previous few hours before Leonor got home. It had been the happiest weekend of his life.

  10

  “Excuse me, Herr Jaro. Good morning and I hope you are well.”

  Rolf looked down, startled out of his muddled thoughts by a young voice. “Hello, Dieter, how are you?” He took in the pale face and sweaty brow and dropped his voice to prevent other bus passengers from overhearing their conversation. “Is everything all right?”

  “Thank you, yes. It’s just that I have to do prefect duty over lunchtime because one of my classmates is unwell. Unfortunately that means I can’t attend my music lesson today. Would you mind informing Frau von Rosenheim for me?” The kid appeared kind of sickly and Rolf wondered where Susana was. Those two were always together.

  “No problem. I’ll give her a call as soon as I get to the Konzerthalle. Are you sure you’re all right? You seem a little unwell yourself.”

  “That’s very kind of you. I appreciate it. This is your stop, isn’t it?”

  Rolf grabbed his cello and said goodbye. His concentration was all over the place this morning, which did not bode well for rehearsals. With less than three weeks to go before the opening of the season, the pressure was on and a sense of urgency affected them all. On top of all that, Rolf had been unfaithful to his partner with a man. Not just any man, but their downstairs neighbour and part of his quartet. Why was he so weak and easily influenced? That kind of misstep could cause him his nascent career in Salzburg. Or worse. If Leonor found out, she would destroy him.

  In the rehearsal room, Rolf’s mind was not on the job and he made several errors, the worst of which was the beginning the third movement instead of the second. The maestro called a halt and suggested a fifteen-minute break for everyone to get some fresh air. He motioned to Rolf to join him in his office. With a heavy heart and the eyes of his fellow string players on his back, Rolf prepared himself for the worst.

  “Mr Jaro, I have a question for you. On Friday, you gave one of the best performances I have heard since you joined us. Now, on Monday morning, you have made half a dozen mistakes before eleven o’clock due to lapses of concentration. Rehearsals will continue at this rate of intensity until opening night. My question is this: do you feel playing in the quartet has affected your ability to devote attention to the orchestra? If so, I will find another player to substitute you. Important as it is to reach out to the general public, your first priority must be here.”

  “No, maestro, certainly not! I loved playing with the quartet and found it energising rather than draining. Really.” Panic fluttered in Rolf’s stomach. He had to stay with the quartet. It was one of the best things in his life. “It’s true I have not been on best form this morning and that’s because I’m tired.” So far, so honest, but here come the lies. “The fact is, my girlfriend was away this weekend and she came back late last night. She was, how can I put it, pleased to see me and she’s a very hard woman to refuse.” He looked down in embarrassment, both feigned and real. Of all the reactions he might have expected, the last was the maestro’s soft, low chuckle.

  “I understand. At your age, you believe you can do everything and put all your efforts into trying to please us all. And who knows, maybe in time you can. Who knows? Think of yourself as an athlete in peak condition. Your sleep, your diet and your training are all part of making you a gold medallist. There will be times, many more of them in the next two months, when you will need to forego the pleasures of the flesh in order to keep your mind sharp and focused. If your partner objects, you can blame me. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  Rolf gave him an embarrassed smile, thrilled to find an unexpected ally in the maestro. He thanked the man and left the office. After a detour to the cafeteria, where he bought two energy drinks, he recalled his encounter on the bus that morning and the message from Dieter Fitz he had not passed on. He dialled Leonor’s number but she didn’t answer. Maybe she was with a pupil. He sent her a text and returned to the rehearsal room.

  It was all a question of discipline. The terrifying thought of being removed from the quartet focused Rolf’s mind and he threw all his energy into his performance. As a result, the rest of the day improved and they ended the afternoon session with a few words of praise from the maestro. Bertrand gave him a wink, Sebastian tilted his head in recognition of his efforts but René simply wagged a finger. Rolf ignored him. Jurgen Wilk was a far better people person than René would ever be.

  He chose to walk home, even though the weather was a little too warm for comfort. His phone pinged with a message from the maestro.

  In the intensive weeks before the opening of the season, it is imperative that all performers pay particular attention to their health. Herr Jaro, should you feel playing with the quartet at weekends leaves you with insufficient rest, I am happy to substitute you. In my capacity as pastoral as well as orchestral conductor, I advise undisturbed sleep, healthy eating and minimal physical exercise. This includes personal intimacy. I hope you perceive my advice as that of an old hand and not as unsolicited interference. Best, Jurgen Wilk.

  When he got to their flat, the door was unlocked, but there was no sign of Leonor. With a strange sense of panic, he ran through all the worst case scenarios. Hanging from a beam? Jumped off the balcony? Lying in a pool of blood in the bath? Kidnapped by sex traffickers? With nervous hands, he checked every room and went outside onto the balcony.

  She was in the garden on her hands and knees beside the hedge, calling in a high-pitched voice, “Puss! Pussycat! Come, puss, where are you?” From behind the pergola, Anton emerged, shaking a box of cat biscuits. He made some kissing sounds and called out in softer tones, “Blue? Blue? Come have your dinner, there’s a good cat.”

  Rolf called down from the balcony. “Has the moggy gone AWOL?”

  They both looked up at him and Anton spoke, his eyes concerned. “Since lunchtime. He often goes off for a wander but never misses a meal. I went to find him around midday and there’s no sign. When Leonor finished work, she offered to help me search.”

  “Rolf, why don’t you go and check our apartment in case he’s napping in a cupboard? Anton, maybe you should ask the neighbours to make sure he didn’t get shut in a shed or garage or something?” asked Leonor. “I’ll have another look around inside.”

  Rolf did as he was bid, finding no trace of the animal. He was thorough and it took him at least twenty minutes. Disheartened and a little sad after Blue had been such a part of their weekend, Rolf descended to the garden. His heart leapt. Under the pergola, Anton held Blue in his arms. The cat was making a fuss, purring and rubbing his head against Anton’s chin while Leonor stroked his fur with her fingertips. All three saw him at the same time.

  “Here he is!” said Anton, his face all smiles. He released Blu
e, who ran to Rolf and smoothed himself against Rolf’s calves, his joy at returning home palpable. Rolf stroked his thick tar-coloured fur and released an irrational swell of relief.

  “I found him!” Leonor exclaimed. “He was in the cellar! This morning I was doing the washing and he must’ve followed me down to the laundry room. I didn’t notice him and closed the door behind me. Poor little boy must be hungry. I’m so sorry, Anton, I really am.”

  “Not your fault. He shouldn’t be so nosy. Thank you for helping me and most of all for finding him. I’ll take him indoors and give him something to eat. Thanks, both of you. Have a good evening.”

  Leonor came up behind Rolf and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder as they watched Anton carry Blue inside. “Happy ending for the pussycat, this time. How was your day, my love? Hangover all gone?”

  “Let’s go inside, I’m hungry.” He walked away from her towards the door, trying not to look at Anton’s apartment. “This morning was pretty crap, to be honest. I had to drink two Red Bulls before I could up my game. But they worked and this afternoon was all right. Did you get my message about Dieter?”

  “Yeah. I should charge the insufferable little shit at least fifty percent of the lesson price at that short notice. Why did you call me and not him?” She followed him up the stairs.

  “I saw him on the bus and he asked me to pass on the message. It didn’t occur to me to ask why he couldn’t call himself. He seemed a bit stressed about something.” He opened the apartment door and noticed the absence of cooking smells. “What are we having for dinner? Should I get us a takeaway as you’ve been busy searching for the cat?”

  “No need. I’ve made a seafood platter. We’re having marinated squid, spicy prawns, seared scallops and fresh oysters. The food of love. I’ve also chilled a Riesling and I’m just about to bake some bread. I thought we could eat in the garden.”