Richard House: The Kills

‘The book.’ Rike changes the subject. ‘I looked at the book.’ She holds her hand to her chest, then to her brows. ‘I really need to know where Mattaus is. It would help to know when you last saw him. Nobody knows where he is.’

Kolya’s arrival isn’t best timed. Sol sees him from across the pool. The man strides out from the shadow of the lobby, shorts on, sandals going clap, clap, clap, looking mean and nasty with his newly shaved head (the skin whiter on his head than his face and neck), a monster tattoo of a dragon clambers up his back, she sees this as he twists about to make his way through the tables and chairs, one claw stuck into his belly, another to his thigh, two others dug into his shoulder. The tail coils around his leg — the claws look like they puncture his skin. It’s a crazy tattoo, the thing is scrambling over his body. Compared to the crudity of the blue-black scribbles on his arms, this is fine art.

Kolya clocks onto Rike immediately. His head twists inquisitively as he changes direction and speed as if he’s expecting her to make a dash.

‘Just pretend you’re from the hotel.’

Rike doesn’t hear him.

‘The hotel. Just pretend. You’re a guest.’

As Kolya rounds the near corner of the pool he’s suddenly all smiles, all charm and delight.

‘Hey.’ Sol stands up. ‘I was just heading in.’ He directs this to Kolya, then turning to Rike says he hopes she has a nice stay, perhaps they can talk tomorrow?

‘Sure.’ Rike holds up her hand, like she might wave. ‘Tomorrow.’

Kolya wraps his arm about Sol’s shoulder. ‘You call those shorts? You walk about in public like this?’ He tells the boy to go inside, hands him a key and then speaks to him in Russian. Sol indicates Rike, a small hand gesture, and Kolya asks Rike directly why she is bothering the boy. He knows nothing, and given what has happened, he doesn’t want the boy involved. ‘We cannot talk with you. We can’t help.’

Rike says she’s sorry, but she doesn’t understand what this is about.

And here Sol steps forward. ‘He called me. Before he fell. He asked me to tell your brother that he should run. That he was in trouble. That someone was after him.’

Kolya holds up his hand and tells Sol to be quiet. Rike should go.

‘Why?’ she asks the boy directly.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Where was he?’

‘He was staying here. He’s gone now. He left as soon as I spoke with him. I don’t know where he’s gone.’

Kolya again instructs the boy to be quiet.

‘He needs to tell this to the police.’

Kolya says no. The boy is not involved. Whatever trouble her brother is in, Sol has nothing to do with. ‘He can’t help you.’

11.9

Udo comes to the apartment on his own. Henning, he says, is with the manager and the boy from the nightclub but they aren’t getting any information. The boy won’t even confirm what he told Rike earlier. He wants to speak about the other matter, Tomas Berens. He’d like to go through everything Berens has told her, everything she might have said to him. Anything that might seem particularly odd to her now. Udo tells her: You are the stories you tell, whatever their basis in fact or experience. It’s who you are. This sounds like Isa, truthful and banal. Once she can understand Tomas Berens, she can let him go.

What did she tell him? ‘Are there any discussions which stand out? Things which at the time were peculiar?’

Rike honestly can’t remember. In hindsight she just feels stupid about everything. The story about the assault is perhaps the most ridiculous element.

‘What did he tell you?’ Udo insists on detail.

It’s hard to remember specific conversations, all of that stuff about his neighbours.

Udo is definite. ‘What did you talk about? Try to remember.’

He needs to explain, she asks, how this matters. ‘What difference will it make?’

Udo holds his breath, as if he needs to say something, but wants to spare her. ‘We have nothing except for the stories. His apartment is close to the hospital. Henning thinks this is relevant. It could be a coincidence, but I doubt it.’

This isn’t so bad, she thinks. Surely? This can be explained. And what about the medication?

‘He won’t explain what he’s doing here.’ The medication the man was supposed to be taking is unbelievable. She should have seen it. The quantity. The bathroom had every anti-psychotic you could imagine. All suppressants of one form or another. The man isn’t well.

‘It’s all attributable.’ Udo is insistent. It will all come from somewhere. He won’t be completely making it up because that takes time and creativity he just doesn’t have.’ The books are his source. Perhaps, on some level, he wants you to know how clever he is. He wants the shape of this deception to be discovered. He wants to be acknowledged.

Udo lays out the possibilities. ‘This is what we think we know. The man is suffering some kind of breakdown. It’s possible he’s here because he’s fixated on the man they discovered in the desert.’ He asks again, ‘Is there anything he’s said which makes either or both of these seem likely? Is there anything you might have said which could have encouraged him?’

Rike stands at the window and looks for a while to the patio. She should shower, freshen up, put this aside and take a break. He wasn’t well. Didn’t he admit to that?

‘There’s no record of a family, the Berens, in Bergen.’

‘So where is he? Is he dangerous?’

‘I doubt it.’ Udo doesn’t think the man is dangerous, just delusional.

* * *

Rike lets the water fall hard on her scalp, turns under it, twists the head so that the stream becomes sharper and more focused. The pressure penetrates, at least preoccupies her so she can focus only on the water, the heat. She doesn’t want to think of Tomas, and cannot believe that he is disturbed in any way.

* * *

When Rike and Henning visit they find Isa sat up in bed, flowers on the table, flowers beside the bedside. Isa asks Rike if it’s too funereal. ‘I mean, seriously, look.’

Rike holds back at the door, and Isa asks why she’s looking at her like that. She can’t bear how kind they’ve become. Everyone is being overly nice.

‘Hen.’ Isa purses her hands, as if in prayer. ‘Would you give us a moment?’

Isa is seldom this serious. Henning holds up his hands in surrender. ‘Let me know when you’re done.’

‘I’ll let you know.’

Rike asks what’s wrong. Isa gathers papers from the side unit. ‘The boy who came to fix the washing machine—’

‘Shit-the-bed?’

‘Right. Little Mr Shit-the-bed. They think he’s the one shooting the cats.’

‘They know? Or they think?’

Isa closes her eyes and softly rubs her eyelids. ‘That’s not what I wanted to talk about.’

Here it comes.

‘Henning and I. Actually, it doesn’t have anything to do with Henning. I think. Not right now. But after the baby comes. I think you should start thinking about leaving Cyprus. This isn’t what it sounds like. I just don’t think you should stay here. I don’t think it’s healthy. I think you should make a new start. We can still keep looking for Mattaus. We aren’t giving up. You can still be involved.’ She reaches for Rike’s hand. ‘Rike. I’m worried about you. I don’t think it’s healthy to stay here.’