Richard House - The Kills

Rike understands that everything is beginning to sound rehearsed.

Udo flicks through the pages, cocks his head when he finds an underlined passage. ‘He said that, about the coffee? It always tastes better ?’ He holds his finger to the page.

‘Word for word.’ And again, she asks herself, why? To what end? ‘There’s probably more. I can’t bear to read it.’

‘And what did Henning say?’

‘He’s had enough going on, don’t you think?’

Udo, out of niceness, she can’t think of another reason, asks if she wants him to check this out.

‘I can talk with him. Find out what’s going on.’

‘Oh god no. I don’t want to cause trouble.’ Does he think she’s asking for help? The situation offers unending possibilities for humiliation. ‘I just want to forget this. Honestly.’

‘Grooming,’ he says. ‘He was grooming you.’ Then looking up. ‘It’s a technique the Stasi used. If you can’t intimidate someone, if it’s not possible or appropriate, then you befriend them. You give information which isn’t yours, so they know nothing about you.’

Now he thinks she’s stupid. ‘I know plenty about him.’ Rike doesn’t like how defensive she’s sounding.

‘You take a story from somewhere else and use it as your own. This way you give a consistent idea, something formed. It’s harder to detect if you are lying. It’s a quick way to gain someone’s confidence when you want information.’

This is ridiculous. ‘What do I know?’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘We talked about his neighbours. The other people who lived in his building.’

‘That’s what he talked about. But what did you talk about?’

‘I taught him English.’

Udo waves his hand as if this is probably nothing. He’ll visit Tomas Berens. See for himself. ‘I’ll take Henning. We’ll go see this man.’

She asks him not to take Henning, the whole thing has been embarrassing enough. The idea makes her cringe, sending her brother-in-law, in whatever capacity, to check up on a man who has cheated on his homework (if that’s even what you’d call it) just feels juvenile. She can’t think of any aspect of this event which hasn’t been grindingly humiliating. He hasn’t broken any law, and there isn’t any requirement that a student should tell the truth to their tutor. If she thinks about it, the idea that students always tell the truth is a little ridiculous. How many times has she listened, kept herself attentive to the turgid details of an unremarkable life: where people come from, their families, their schools, their childhoods; thousands of unremarkable facts traded as confidences, which seldom hold interest or meaning? Tomas Berens took stories out in the public domain. Stuff to be used. Grooming? To what purpose?

She wants to know why. Didn’t he lay the ground first with those banalities, all of that detail about his neighbours? Didn’t he soften her up first?

Udo takes the book and says that he will read it first.

* * *

With Isa in hospital the apartment is much too empty. She hankers for Isa’s company, finds the hospital visits unsatisfactory. Yearns to see the black cat, even briefly, but there’s nothing in the garden except fallen fruit, a few scattered lemons.

She takes a phone call from Henning, who hands her over to Udo.

They want to know if Berens made any threats.

‘Threats?’

‘Did he say anything which sounded inappropriate? Anything at all?’

‘He just spoke about the people in the apartments. Then about his assault. All of those stories from the book.’

There’s an inordinate number of drugs in his apartment. Did she know anything about this?

‘Drugs?’

‘Medication. Anti-depressants. Anti-psychotics.’

She knows nothing about this.

Did he say anything about the man in hospital? The man from Syria?

Rike rests her hand on her heart and feels it thumping. She has to think before she answers, not because she doesn’t know the answer, but because the answer will be complex. If she says yes, then she is admitting to being indiscreet. And hasn’t she already caused Henning enough trouble? Isn’t her family bothersome enough?

‘Did he mention the man in the hospital?’

She says yes.

Udo is quiet and she has to ask why this matters.

‘I’d better come and speak with you.’

‘What does he say?’

‘He isn’t here.’

11.8

She finds the boy poolside at the Del Mare not the Miramar. Sunlight bounces off the pool, so bright she shies away. Sol stretches across a lounger, wears his sunglasses, and a pair of briefs — a posing pouch — with a picture of a kitten on the front. The kitten is cute, nestled in a ball, big saucer eyes, just adorable, and ridiculous ears. She can’t see why a young man would want to wear something so absurd, so girlish. He turns again to find a comfortable position, and she can see, printed across the seat in a pretty italic script, the words ‘kitty kat’.

She watches him for a short while. With earphones and a small player he likes to stand over the pool and look out at the sea. There’s a ring of winsome mothers in the shallow end who are less shy about staring at him than their daughters. But he looks bored, and she imagines it can’t be much fun sitting in the sun, with the pool, the interested mothers, the distant daughters, the uppity staff, and the very pissed-off pool boy (who isn’t getting any attention while Sol takes the boards). What he needs is company, other boys, it’s wrong to see a young man so isolated.

She decides to speak to him. The honest truth is that she isn’t entirely sure what to ask him, but has a notion that he can help resolve some of the confusion. Perhaps she means to apologize?

The boy returns to his lounger and lies back. Rike, with her bag over her shoulder, comes tentatively forward and clears her throat.

‘I don’t mean to interrupt.’

She isn’t prepared for his reaction. The boy is alarmed to see her, and he immediately sits up on his elbows.

Rike gestures to the sunbed beside him and she sits side on. The straps on her shoulder bag stroke down her legs as the bag softens at her feet.

‘I need to speak with my brother.’

Sol shuffles up, and searches for a towel, a little too naked perhaps for a conversation about brothers.

‘I can’t speak with you.’

Surprised by his reaction, Rike repeats her question. She just wants to know where her brother is.

‘I can’t help you.’

‘He hasn’t been in touch. I just need to speak with him.’

The boy looks hard at her for a moment. ‘We shouldn’t be talking.’

Rike asks why. ‘He’s my brother. I need to speak with him. You might know where he is?’

‘You seriously haven’t heard?’

‘I told you he hasn’t been in touch.’

Sol shakes his head and she thinks he looks frightened. ‘No one knows where he is. He’s disappeared.’

‘I’m sorry about the manager. Lexi.’

The boy looks away.

‘I really don’t think Mattaus had anything to do with it. I think it was an accident.’

Sol now looks very confused. Rike thinks he has more to say. She looks to the pool, notes the pattern where water has splashed along the stone side. She asks why he isn’t in the Miramar, and Sol automatically looks up at the rising ranks of balconies.