Richard House - The Kills

* * *

There was no reaction on the funiculare, but crossing piazza del Municipio two boys shouted at Yee Jan and ran ahead, finding themselves funny, and these shouts were reassurance that he’d established himself: if someone followed him now, police or maniac, there would be a reason for it, an explanation. With his white face, finely drawn eyes and eyebrows, with his hair pulled back over his scalp, a broad soft collar (he’d chosen a butch office number over the blouse — hints of Chanel), he walked with the manner of a courtier, with delicate but confident steps, not quite primping, but mannered, definitely mannered: each footfall an assured but subtle, me, me, me, me. The wide reach of the piazza, this volume of space about him open and hollow, the air close enough so that he could feel himself swim forward, and he felt honest and good and happy.

* * *

The students of Elementario Due returned with clippings from the week’s newspapers and chatter about the film, the visiting actors, and news of where they were staying. Everyone expressed amazement at Yee Jan’s transformation, how perfect, how delicate he appeared, and how he seemed to flutter in front of them as someone they knew and someone they did not know. He soon bored of the attention, and became exhausted by the constant struggle to pick the simplest phrases, he ached to get outside and find the film crew (although, even this could offer only a momentary interest). As a boy in Washington State he’d felt the same kind of boredom, days on end. A dry dissatisfaction. Something akin to taking a journey, the sedation of watching the world slide by a window and holding no influence over the persistent slide of it all, of being both inside and outside, a passenger who is never really present.

The newspapers revived the story of the clothes, the assault, the missing Japanese student, Mizuki Katsura, the missing American student, and it all began to assemble itself. At first, Lara refused to answer questions. Everyone had an idea about what had happened, and while the tutor would say nothing the students became busy with speculation.

With some effort she attempted to steer the conversation to easier subjects: toward whatever they might have attempted in Italian on the previous night — but the news of a killing made for a better discussion than food or culture or travel and these students, now roused, became inexplicably fluent and direct in their new language. This was no ordinary Friday. Lara wouldn’t just tell them directly to stop, to shut up, to do exactly what they were asked.

‘She was singled out at the train station. They were waiting for her.’

Then Lara, provoked: ‘There are people who have family — missing family. They come here to make a film, to tell the story about this, but they bring everything with them and have no interest in the city, and no interest in the people who have lost members of their family and who have no idea where they are.’

Tonight there was to be a demonstration. A silent protest, an hour-long vigil organized over mobile phones, devices seeking people from the region, calling them to a specific point at a specific time. They would find the location of the film crew and they would silently materialize and surround them in their hundreds. This, anyway, was the plan.

The second session did not improve. Having answered questions all week about why they’d come to Campania and what they liked best about Naples, students fixed on the subject. What they liked best about Naples today involved killing.

Yee Jan was surprised how uneasy the discussion made him: when he left the building for the coffee break he waited deliberately for a group and struck up a conversation so that someone would escort him across the courtyard and outside.

‘Did you see him?’

‘You know I can’t say I saw him. I mean, the police said he was right at the main door.’

The question was repeated, time and again through the break. Have you seen him? What do you think he wants? What are his intentions? What do you think he is going to do? It was only when they returned to class and came round the corner to see the thin dark alley, the glass of the antique shop window, wet-looking, eye-like, that Yee Jan understood — these people are no better than the people who came to the school and stood outside. Everybody wanted that thrill of proximity. There wasn’t one speck of difference.

Keiko met Yee Jan on the stairs and Yee Jan spelled it out. ‘I have a theory,’ he said, ‘about why people are so curious. There’s only one question, really. What’s it like to watch somebody die?’

* * *

He refreshed his face at the end of the day, and when he came out of the toilet he found Lara at the entrance, waiting, somewhat deliberate, he thought. He planned to find the film crew at the Duomo and did not want to be delayed.

Lara sat in a folding chair beside the door, an invigilator, hands clamped between her knees.

‘I thought you’d be here. If you have a moment.’

Lara had not spoken to him in English before and Yee Jan found this slightly alarming. ‘You want to speak?’

‘It’s about what happened last week.’

Yee Jan waited but Lara couldn’t formulate the question. Finally, she gave up and stood up and said it didn’t matter.

‘I know about the police,’ he said. ‘They told me I had my own secret security guard, or something like that. I had no idea. Did you know?’

Lara gave a small nod. ‘They told us last week.’

‘So everyone knew except me?’

‘The other instructors were told.’

‘Did you see them? The police?’

Lara shook her head.

‘I should have been told.’ Yee Jan smiled. ‘Someone should have told me.’ He let the statement stand. ‘Have you seen it?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Did you see the footage?’

Lara nodded. ‘They showed it to all of the instructors last week.’

‘It was two men, wasn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. It isn’t clear.’ Lara dismissed the question as she did in class when the answer wasn’t what she wanted.

‘Did you know her? The Japanese student. The woman who disappeared? Were you teaching then?’

Lara made a small gesture which Yee Jan took as a no.

‘Has to be weird. The whole thing. Is there anyone here who knew her?’

‘I was here. I was finishing my teaching placement.’

‘So she was in an advanced class. But you’d know about it.’

‘Everybody here knows about it.’

Yee Jan nodded and thought to leave. ‘It’s just, when something like that happens people treat you differently. If they know you were involved.’ He could sense Lara measuring him.

Yee Jan made one single nod. ‘And people don’t know how to talk to you. Like you’re sticky. A little toxic.’

‘Look.’ Lara dipped her head, eyes closing. ‘This has happens a lot. People come all the time. Even though nothing actually happened here.’

‘They said.’

Lara zipped up her bag. ‘You said this happened to you before?’

So this is what she wanted to know? ‘Not quite like this.’

‘Sorry?’

‘It wasn’t the same.’

Lara looked up and waited.

‘OK, the first time there was a guy in a car. He just drove up and told me to get in.’

‘And you got in?’

‘I recognized him. I knew who he was. I wasn’t sure there was much of a choice. Anyway, I always do what I’m told. After I got in the car I changed my mind and he wouldn’t let me out. I managed to get out, but for a moment I didn’t know what was going to happen.’ Yee Jan explained the situation directly and without fuss, his voice gently flattening as if what had happened was a little tedious or had happened to someone else, to a person perhaps that he didn’t like.