Lars Kepler - The Hypnotist

“Good.”

He hurries home, enters the building, and waits for the lift. Through the yellow polished window set in the door, the world outside looks magical and enchanted. He puts the boxes down on the floor, opens the door of the rubbish chute, and throws away the roses.

In the lift he has second thoughts. It’s possible she would have been pleased. It’s possible she wouldn’t have interpreted it as an attempt to bribe her, to avoid a confrontation.

He rings the bell. Benjamin opens the door and takes the pizzas from him. Erik hangs up his coat, goes to the bathroom, and washes his hands. He takes out a box containing small lemon-coloured tablets, quickly removes three of them from their blister pack, swallows them without water, and returns to the kitchen.

“We went ahead and started,” says Simone.

Erik shrugs and looks at the water glasses on the table.

“When did we become a family of teetotallers?” He goes to the cabinet and gets out two wineglasses.

“Good move,” says Simone, as he opens a bottle of wine.

Erik’s phone rings. They look at each other.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” asks Simone.

“I’m not talking to any more journalists tonight,” Erik says firmly.

“So let it ring.” She cuts a slice of pizza, takes a bite, and waits expectantly. Erik pours them both a glass of wine. Simone nods and smiles.

“Oh, I forgot,” she says suddenly. “It’s almost gone now, but I could smell cigarette smoke when I got home.”

“Do any of your friends smoke?” Erik asks, turning to Benjamin.

“No,” Benjamin replies automatically.

“What about Aida?”

Benjamin doesn’t respond. He just keeps eating. Suddenly he stops, puts down his knife and fork, and stares at the table.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Erik asks tentatively. “Something on your mind?”

“Nothing’s on my mind, Dad.”

“You know you can tell us anything.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Don’t you think- ”

“You don’t get it.”

“All right. Explain it to me, then,” Erik ventures.

“No.”

They eat in silence. Benjamin stares at the wall.

“The pepperoni’s delicious,” says Simone quietly. She wipes a lipstick mark off her glass. “It’s a pity we’ve stopped cooking together,” she says to Erik.

“When would we find the time to do that?”

“Stop arguing!” yells Benjamin.

He drinks his water and gazes out the window at the dark city. Erik eats almost nothing but refills his glass twice.

“Did you have your injection on Tuesday?” Simone asks Benjamin.

“Has Dad ever missed one?” He gets up and puts his plate in the sink. “Thanks.”

“I went and had a look at that leather jacket you’re saving up for,” says Simone. “I was thinking I could pay the rest.”

Suddenly, Benjamin’s whole face breaks into a smile, and he goes over and hugs her. She holds him tight but lets him go the instant she senses him begin to pull away. He goes to his room.

Erik breaks off a piece of crust and pushes it in his mouth. His phone rings again. It moves across the table, vibrating, but he looks at the display and once more shakes his head. “No friend of mine,” he says.

“Have you gotten tired of being a celebrity?” Simone asks gently.

“I’ve only talked to two journalists today,” he says, with a wan smile, “but that was enough for me.”

“What did they want?”

“It was that magazine called Café , or something like that.”

“The one that has tits on the cover?”

“Usually some girl who looks amazed at being photographed in nothing but a pair of panties with a Union Jack on them.”

She smiles at him. “What did they want?”

Erik clears his throat and says dryly, “They asked me if it was possible to hypnotize women to make them horny.”

“Seriously? How professional.”

“Totally.”

“And the second conversation,” she asks. “Was that a journalist from Ritz or Slitz ?”

“ Radio News ,” he replies. “They wondered what my views were on being reported to the Parliamentary Ombudsman.”

“I’m sorry for your sake.”

Erik rubs his eyes and sighs. To Simone it looks as if he’s grown smaller, shrunk by several inches.

“Without the hypnosis,” he says slowly, “Josef Ek might have murdered his sister as soon as he was discharged from the hospital.”

“You still shouldn’t have done it,” says Simone softly.

“No, I know,” he replies, running his finger around his glass. “I wish…”

He falls silent, and Simone is overcome by a sudden desire to touch him, to put her arms around him. But instead she stays where she is and just asks, “What are we going to do?”

“Do?”

“About us. We’ve said things, said we were going to separate. I don’t know where I am with you anymore, Erik.”

He rubs his hand over his eyes. “I realize you don’t trust me,” he says, then falls silent.

She meets his eyes, sees the worn face, the straggling hair, and thinks that there was a time when they almost always had fun together.

“I’m not the person you want,” he goes on.

“Stop it,” she says.

“Stop what?”

“You say I’m not happy with you, but you’re the one who’s deceiving me; you’re the one who thinks I’m not enough.”

“Simone, I- ”

He touches her hand, but she moves it away. His eyes are dark; she can see that he has taken pills.

“I need to sleep,” says Simone, getting up.

Erik follows her, his face grey and his eyes glazed. On the way to the bathroom, she checks the front door carefully to make sure it’s locked.

“You can sleep in the spare room,” she says.

He nods indifferently, seeming almost anaesthetized. She watches as he enters their bedroom, emerging a moment later with his duvet and pillow.

In the middle of the night, Simone is woken by a sudden jab in her upper arm. She is lying on her stomach; she rolls over onto her side and feels at her arm. The muscle is tense and itchy. The bedroom is in darkness.

“Erik?” she whispers, but remembers he’s sleeping in the spare room.

She turns to face the door and sees a shadow slip out. The parquet floor creaks. She thinks that perhaps Erik has got up for some reason but realizes he should be in a deep sleep, thanks to his pills. Suddenly, she’s frightened. She switches on the bedside lamp, turns her arm toward the light, and sees a bead of blood coming from a small pink dot on the skin.

She can hear soft thuds coming from the hallway. Turning off the light, she slips out of bed, her legs weak. She rubs her sore arm as she eases past the threshold. Her mouth is dry, her legs warm but numb. Someone is whispering and laughing in the hallway, a muted, cooing laugh. It doesn’t sound anything like Erik. Then Simone shudders: once again, the front door is wide open. The stairwell is in darkness. Cold air is pouring in. She can hear something from Benjamin’s room, a faint whimpering.

“Mum?” Benjamin seems scared. “Ouch!” she hears him say. He begins to cry.

In the mirror in the corridor, Simone can see someone bending over Benjamin’s bed holding a syringe. Thoughts whirl around in her head. She tries to comprehend what is happening, what she is seeing.

“Benjamin?” she says, her voice high with anxiety. “What’s going on?”

She clears her throat and takes a step closer, but suddenly her legs give way; her hands grope for support, but she is unable to hold herself up. She collapses on the floor, bangs her head against the wall, and feels the pain searing her skull.

She tries again to get up, but she can no longer move; it’s as if she has no connection with her legs, no sensation at all in her lower body. There is a strange fluttering sensation in her chest, and she feels short of breath. Her vision disappears for a few seconds, and when it returns it is cloudy.