Thomas Glavinic: The Camera Killer

A motorist, who spotted the utterly frantic victim several miles from his parental home, picked him up and took him to the police.

Eva kneaded her brow and said she might have to be sick. Heinrich too detected a certain pallor on the faces of all present. He turned off the television. Nobody spoke for five minutes or so.

My partner went over to some shelves on the wall. After a while, she removed a CD and inserted it in the stereo system. Music was a good idea, said Heinrich. He suggested playing a game of cards. Eva said she was far from in the mood for cards, but in view of the circumstances, and because simply doing nothing would probably prevent her from shaking off her horrific thoughts, she was prepared to play. My partner and I did not decline to join in either.

Heinrich fetched the deck of cards from an old wooden sideboard and put it on the table. When he went to get some red wine from the cellar, he discovered how hard it had started to rain again and swore repeatedly. On returning from the cellar with the wine, he remarked that the rain would probably have dispersed the crowd in the victims’ hometown. The storm was growing steadily worse, he said.

Eva asked him to drop the subject for a while.

As he was uncorking the wine, my partner opened a drawer in the table and took out some paper and writing utensils. Eva proceeded to shuffle the cards. We played rummy, as we had the previous night. There was no great change in our respective fortunes either, except in the case of Heinrich and myself. I won even more this time, and he lost more heavily than before.

Once again, there were one or two breaks in play. Heinrich, who refused to comply with our suggestion that he bring up more than one bottle at a time (going down there kept him sober, he claimed), had to pay several visits to the cellar. We expressed our belief that he would be bound to catch a cold, even though he put on a blue terry cloth bathrobe after every sortie and changed back into outdoor clothes only when going to the cellar. Eva, who suffers from a weak bladder, had to make frequent visits to the bathroom.

My partner fetched some nibbles and cookies. On one occasion, she went to get a cardigan because the downpour and the open window had made it unpleasantly chilly. During one of these intermissions, when Eva was in the bathroom, Heinrich asked if we believed that the video would really be shown. Neither of us doubted it. He said he insisted on watching the program. We said the same. Eva, who had rejoined us, put her fingers in her ears. Heinrich laughed and said, OK, OK.

There was a knock at the door. My partner gave a violent start. Heinrich rose and we followed him. Standing outside were the farmer from next door and his wife, who was carrying an umbrella. She asked if we were coming with them to Mass at Kaibing Church.

Heinrich was about to reply but was dissuaded by a warning glance and a surreptitious nudge from Eva. No, he said, we weren’t going to church but would watch the Easter Vigil Mass on television instead. He felt sure his neighbors were aware that the pope’s Urbi et Orbi benediction extended to viewers seated in front of their television sets. This was now valid for Easter Vigil services as well. That being so, we would stay home and be blessed by the cardinal on the screen.

Oh, said the farmer’s wife, so that’s how it was these days. Everything had been different in the old days, and she adhered to the churchgoing tradition. The neighbors took their leave and we returned to the living room.

That passed off all right for once, said Eva, but only just.

Heinrich fulminated about rural traditions and the prevailing compulsion to defer to the Church. Eva said he should drop the subject.

Heinrich went and fetched another bottle of wine. He had to slip into the bathrobe again on his return.

My partner remarked that the rain was getting heavier and heavier. We confirmed this. The rain was thundering down on the old house so loudly that my partner shivered, drew the cardigan around her more tightly, and leaned against me as if in search of protection. Heinrich asked if she was scared of thunderstorms. No, she replied, but the combination of a heavy downpour and a psychopathic murderer roaming around on the loose created an atmosphere that transcended the bounds of normalcy. If there were another knock, Heinrich shouldn’t open the door so unthinkingly; she hoped he hadn’t forgotten to lock it after his last trip to the cellar. She was assured that it was securely locked.

Eva urged us to go on with our game and, above all, not to widen the discussion. At around 10:15, I went to the bathroom. When I returned to the living room, my partner and Eva were standing, talking beside the kitchen dresser. They were clearly visible to me because the passage connecting the living room and kitchen was short and straight. Heinrich was seated in front of the television, looking at the news. I perched on the arm of my chair.

Heinrich said public holidays were a mystery to him; he’d thought there weren’t any newspapers on Easter Sunday. I told him I shared that view, but Heinrich said the Kronen Zeitung was bringing out an edition containing an illustrated sixteen-page report on the murders; it had just been advertised. Perhaps it was just a one-time edition, I said. Heinrich promised to go and get a copy by car early tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, the nearest newsstand was situated several miles away. That was one of the disadvantages of living in such a remote spot.

He called to the women in the kitchen, asking where they’d gotten to. We could go on with our game, he said. When there was no response, he went to persuade them to return. I followed him out, so I witnessed Eva reproaching Heinrich for giving the murder story no rest. She didn’t feel like going on with the game as long as the remote control was within his reach.

Laughing, Heinrich promised not to turn it on again until 11:30, even though we would, with such tragic finality, have missed the wonderful televised Mass. We were heretics, he said; we hadn’t even had our food consecrated.

Eva was about to reply when we heard a crash upstairs. We all stared at each other.

What was that? my partner exclaimed.

Heinrich shrugged his shoulders.

There’s someone up there, my partner cried loudly.

Before we could respond in any way, she reiterated her cry of alarm and dashed to the front door. She turned the key twice and wrenched it open, evidently intending to leave the house just as she was, dressed only in a cardigan, T-shirt, and jeans with panties underneath, and wearing no shoes on her stocking feet.

Heinrich restrained her. She mustn’t go imagining things, he said; there was no one upstairs, but if it would reassure her, he’d go and look. My partner did, in fact, come to a halt. She even locked the door again, but she refused to leave the spot.

Heinrich went to a medium-sized chest in the passage and took out a flashlight because he might have to go up into the loft, which had no electric light installed. Did he mean to go up there by himself? my partner demanded. Was he crazy?

Heinrich answered the first question in the affirmative, the second in the negative.

I offered to accompany him. My partner said she wouldn’t let me; it might be better to call the police and enlist their help. Heinrich told her not to be ridiculous. The police quickly became overburdened with such calls and unable to perform their proper duties in a regulation manner.

To simplify the situation, I suggested that all four of us go; that way, no one need be worried about anyone else.

What gives you that idea? my partner demanded; she would be all the more worried about herself and everyone else. No one and nothing would induce her to go up there. She would sooner summon help from the authorities. Even if this step might seem ridiculous in normal times, the guardians of the law would surely sympathize with such fears on a day like this and might even be grateful for information that could lead to the killer’s capture.