Richard House - The Kills

Geezler is less happy, but somehow not surprised, with the news about the man following Parson and his wife. ‘It can’t be true. These are paranoid fantasies. Of someone who —’ the connection falters ‘— desperate. I fail to see the logic.’ It is absurd.

‘She has a photo of the man. She recognizes him from other occasions.’

The line becomes silent.

‘I said she has—’

Geezler asks him to send the photograph. Can it be emailed? He asks Gibson to describe the man.

‘Well,’ Gibson tries to recall the image, ‘the picture shows very little. Something of a staircase and there is a man in a doorway. It’s very clear.’

The stairway might be marble, there is a suggestion that it is vast and grand. A curved wall. A doorway in which a figure hesitates, his right hand raised. On a small screen the image appears deceptively clear. This is a European male. Light skinned. Light hair, shorn but not shaven. An angular face, with strong features, Gibson thinks, with a new or trimmed beard which emphasizes his mouth.

Enlarged, the image shows nothing new, and what appears distinct begins to lose definition. The most striking element is that the man knows he has been caught. His eyes look directly at the camera.

5.1

Rike sleeps late. She wakes with one clear thought, an ambition: today the lesson will be outside. It doesn’t matter where, but outside, away from the apartment. She isn’t interested in hearing news about his neighbours, has no desire to know Christos’s thoughts or experiences with his wife. She does not want to hear about the Kozmatikos boy or know what kind of trouble he has brought down upon himself. No. Today they will walk through the city, and maybe have a drink at one of the terraces overlooking the bay. Today they will take in Limassol and they will discuss what they find, whatever they happen upon.

She finds Henning in the kitchen in his shorts. He walks through the apartment without a shirt, an electric razor in hand. The buzz maps his walk. Rike watches from the garden, her feet up on the small side wall. It’s like he’s checking his territory, she thinks. He’s taking stock.

‘So no more cats?’

‘I haven’t seen them today. There’s one black one left. That’s all I’ve seen.’

‘I thought the black one was dead?’ Henning leans against the door. Rike hasn’t noticed before how the kitchen and the front room are linked by a continuous line of windows which should all open up. Henning hangs about like he has something to say.

‘What?’

‘Nothing?’

‘No, what is it?’

Henning turns back to the apartment but doesn’t yet go inside. ‘Isa said you’re teaching?’

‘Yes, there’s a school in Limassol.’

‘She said you were teaching a man in his house?’

‘I go to his apartment.’

Henning frowns.

‘It’s safe. It’s all organized through the school.’

‘For how long?’

‘Seven weeks.’

‘And you like it?’

Rike takes a sip from her coffee and slowly agrees. ‘Yes, I like it enough. Why did you come back early?’

Henning rubs his hand over his cheek and chin to check his shave.

‘Everything’s done.’

‘With the man from the desert?’

‘Yes, everything is settled.’

‘You still think he isn’t Sutler?’

Henning isn’t pleased to hear the name. ‘I doubt it.’

‘But you aren’t sure?’

Henning runs his tongue inside his cheek. ‘Do you know what a sutler is? It’s a person or a company which provides for the military. This is a man, who works for a trans-national company which provides for the American military, and his name is the name of the service he provides. And because no one takes so much money from these people so easily, not without someone knowing. It doesn’t happen.’ Henning points the shaver at the cat-food bowls.

‘But someone thinks that it’s him?’

‘Someone, yes. Some people.’

Henning points again to the cat bowls and asks if Rike can pick them up. ‘We’ll have rats.’

‘She won’t listen to me.’

‘You think I’ll have more luck?’

‘You could ask for anything right now.’

‘I’d better ask then. It won’t last long.’

She thinks Henning disapproves of her teaching. The idea, one he approved, was that Rike would spend time with Isa while Henning was away. If she’s teaching, she isn’t providing company.

* * *

Rike walks to the school offices on the Limassol waterfront. She delivers her passport and waits while it is copied. The language teachers are all women. Rosaria, the woman who hired her, is friendly and formal in equal measure, certainly less blank than the first time they met and the times they have spoken on the phone. As she waits the door buzzer sounds intermittently. There is an expectant atmosphere, a little nervousness among the students as they gather in the common room. It wouldn’t be so bad teaching here. English, German, Italian. In the afternoons, between classes, she could swim.

Rosaria points out the library. It’s nothing more than a stacked shelf in each room of DVDs, CDs, course books, and other books — novels and poetry — which seem so random they were possibly left by students. Greek in one room. Spanish in another. Italian in another. English in two rooms. Rike is welcome to borrow the books as she pleases, and she should tell her student about the facility. Rosaria presses a brochure into Rike’s hand.

‘Make sure he knows about these. There are trips, half-day trips to the museum, to Curium, to other archaeological sites, and a meal. Then full-day trips to Paphos, which take in a stop at Aphrodite’s Beach. He’s welcome to come.’ She points out that these are extras, run in association with the school. Rike would also be welcome on these trips and her ticket would come at a reduced price.

As the bell sounds Rosaria turns to the door. She hesitates. ‘He really hasn’t told you about himself?’

It seems to Rike that this question is reflexive. Rosaria asks Rike to walk with her. ‘Has he said anything?’

‘Only that he isn’t working.’

‘He was on a day course with us, but he only stayed for the morning. When we were in touch with him he explained that he would be more comfortable taking the lessons at home. I met with him to discuss what he might need, and that’s when he asked for you.’

‘Did he say what the problem was?’

‘Oh yes. He was assaulted.’ Rosaria looks meaningfully at Rike — who isn’t sure about what she’s implying.

‘Assaulted?’ This word sounds different when applied to a man.

‘Hospitalized.’ Rosaria nods and adds in a low voice. ‘What I’m telling you is confidential.’

In the office Rosaria looks in the small filing cabinet and takes a moment to locate the file.

She passes a handwritten note to Rike. It simply states that he regrets that he’s unable to attend meetings or events with groups of people because of a continuing health issue, and would the school extend his apologies to the teacher.

Rosaria compresses her lips, an air about her: there is more information she cannot possibly share.

‘How do you know what happened?’

‘I spoke with him for a long time. He had a family,’ she says. ‘He was attacked at work. The injuries were serious. I’m telling you so you won’t be surprised. It’s probably best to let him raise the subject.’