|
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
AIDS .. Also a Vampire’s Lament
In the Spring of our rapture,
You assuaged my hunger
With gallant love-bites and
Wept rubescent teardrops
As my own offering
Cascaded willingly into the
Vessel of your thirst.
Thereafter,
Enchanting midnight promenades,
Serenaded by love-sick werewolves,
Inevitably climaxed with
Splendiferous candlelit repasts
Of aristocratic blood plasma
And the finest port wines.
Magically abducted by the ecstasy
Of transfusion and reminiscence,
We who are forever young
Renewed our vows of
Never-ending devotion with
All the certainty and bliss
Intrinsic to incipient passion.
So golden were our halcyon days --
Yet unblemished by the ravages
Of overfamiliarity and diseased blood,
Now yielding insomnious forenoons
In separate coffins and
Solitary meals under would-be
Romantic moonlight.
Since our greatest promise
Has become your heaviest burden,
I look upon eternity as
The merciless side-effect
Of myopic infatuation ...
And dream, perhaps,
Of growing old.
DRAG QUEEN.
You know – I hardly recognized you
Out-of-drag this afternoon!
Your clever disguise
Enabled you to sit down
Before I could run away.
You both surprised and intrigued me
When you lamented the slow
Passage of time – for I
Have often envied and despised
Your freedom and almost fickle
Sense of reality.
Funny how ..
All these years ...
I regarded you as crazy.
But now that we share disillusionment
With expectation and time,
I recognize you in myself.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
WHAT JONNY DUG UP
by Adam Donaldson Powell
October 15th. Blustering winds scattering leaves and raindrops over lush greenery and displaced benches in Kampen Park. The singing of the breeze through shrubs and trees muffles the occasional sounds of traffic in the distance. Non-constant noises ... sloshing of cars through puddles ... stalling motors gasping and choking ... and every now and then, a shriek from a skidding car, grabbing onto the wet asphalt as if clutching for its life. A quiet night: uneventful. Cold. Empty. The kind of evening most people stay inside, cuddled up beside the fireplace with a long novel. Or rooted in front of the television set, even though not a single program of interest is scheduled for broadcast. Perhaps also the kind of night one could expect to sow the seeds of a common cold, or the flu. Otherwise, a night like any other in Oslo during mid-October. Well, almost ....
I was walking Jonny, my golden retriever, around 9:30 p.m. He seemed to be in no hurry to relieve himself, to my dismay – as I found the weather rather inconducive to a prolonged stroll. After much cajoling on my part, Jonny took an interest in an out-of-the-way shrub that had never attracted him before. Wherewith some excited sniffing and barking, Jonny began to whine and dig at the earth beneath the shrub. The more that I attempted to force him to heel, the more persistent he became. Finally, I figured ‘What the hell’ – the sooner he uncovered the bone, or whatever it was, the sooner we could finish up the business at hand and return home. And so, I unleashed the dog and lit a cigarette. After digging about a quarter meter into the loose soil, Jonny began to bark and wag his tail anxiously. “Good boy, Jonny,” I cried. “Bring it over here. ‘Atta boy!” Jonny pulled at what looked like a mass of unravelled brown rope, and began to drag the object toward me with great pride. I was just about to pick up the treasure-find for closer scrutiny, when I began to feel quite nauseous. He had unearthed the severed head of a woman, barely identifiable .. with worms and other insects of the soil crawling about her eye-sockets, ears and mouth. There wasn’t a nose – maybe it had already decayed before the rest, but I don’t think so. It was a horrible sight!
The next half hour is fuzzy in my recollection. I’m not quite sure how, but somehow I managed to leash up the dog and run to the nearest apartment building. Apparently, I had been quite hysterical .. randomly ringing the buzzers of all inhabitants of the building while screaming and crying. The dog was confused and excited over my madness as well. It took several tenants to get us inside and under control. I must have been babbling complete nonsense, because the apartment-dwellers who telephoned the police thought that I had been sexually-assaulted – although they couldn’t understand how that had been possible with such a large dog for protection. The dog and I were sitting in the vestibule, just inside the front door of the building, surrounded by five or six tenants. No one dared to invite us into their homes ... Kampen isn’t really the kind of neighborhood where people get too involved in other people’s affairs. It’s quiet, residential – a no-trouble community.
The two policemen who arrived must have asked me about twenty-five questions about myself before I could get a word in about what I had seen. “What is your name, address, telephone number? Where do you work? Are you single, or married? Why are you walking in the park so late at night? Etc.” I was half-expecting them to ask me if I was working as a prostitute, when one of the officers finally told me that the tenants had complained about my screaming, and they would escort me home or to a hospital after I gave them my description of the assailant. By the time I was able to explain to them that I had not been raped, but rather had discovered the partial remains of a probable murder victim, I was so angry that I practically dragged them by the hand to the disgusting head of the poor woman, while pointing and screaming, “Look at that! LOOK AT IT!” That was all I could divulge in my state: ‘Look at it!’ One of the officers led me away from the park, radioed for help, and called for another car to drive me home, explaining that he had all the information he needed from me for the moment. I would be contacted later for an official statement. Once home, I cried .. and cried .. until I fell asleep on the sofa, at God only knows what hour.
I awoke from my troubled sleep with a start. The telephone was ringing, the dog was barking, and the answering machine was signalling that messages had been taken. Half awake, I grabbed the receiver. “Hullo ... Jonny, PLEASE SHUT UP! .. No, I’m sorry .. not you .. the dog. Who’s calling?”
“It’s Petter,” said the voice on the other end. “Are you ill? I’ve been trying to call you all morning long. Have you forgotten about the shoot, or what?”
“Oh, Petter!” I cried. “What time is it? I must have overslept ...”
“It’s 10:37 a.m.,” he replied. “We were supposed to meet with the camera and make-up crew at Aker Brygge at 8:30 a.m., remember?!! Are you alright? I don’t understand. You’ve never missed a shoot before, Turid. What’s going on?”
My God. I had totally forgotten about the Solo Light shoot. “I’m really sorry, Petter. So much has happened. I guess I was so exhausted that I forgot to set the alarm. But I don’t see how I can work today. I need some time to .. I mean .. I just can’t do any...”
“Okay, it’s okay. Slow down ..” he interjected. “I sent the crew home an hour ago. We’ll reschedule the shoot. But you sound terrible – is there something wrong? You aren’t hurt, are you?!!”
“Yes,” I stammered. ”I mean, no .. my God, Petter. I’m a mess!” Starting to sob over the phone: “It was horrible! I can’t explain ...”
“Listen, I’ll be right there. Stay where you are; and don’t do anything. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Okay? I’ll be right over!”
“Okay, Petter ... please hurry. I really need to talk to somebody.”
After hanging up the receiver, I felt lonelier than I’d felt for a long time. I hugged and kissed Jonny, gave him some food and water, and opened the window blinds. I looked at the clock. 10:44 a.m. Petter will be here soon ... I’d better try and pull myself together. Looking in the bathroom mirror, I saw that I had circles around my eyes, my face was bloated, and I looked pale. “You really look awful, Turid,” I said to myself. And with that, I quickly washed my face, threw on a layer of make-up and changed clothes. I had just put the coffee on when the buzzer rang. Petter had arrived at the entrance of the building. In less than two minutes he had bounded up the four flights of the apartment building, and was in the entrance hall to my flat.
“Turid, what’s wrong?!! Are you hurt? What has happened?” he panted. And I just broke down and started to sob, all over again – trembling and staining the quick make-up job I had completed just minutes before. Petter put his right arm around me and walked me to the sofa, where he sat me down and held me, saying: “It’s going to be okay, now. It’s going to be alright.”
“Petter, I’m so sorry about the shoot. I didn’t mean to ...”
“Don’t think about the shoot right now, Turid. It’s not a problem. Right now we’ve got to calm you down. That’s all that is important at the moment.”
I felt so awkward, weeping like a child in Petter’s arms, and making no sense at all. Petter had taken a special interest in me ever since I first walked into the modelling agency, eighteen months ago. He had transformed me from a gangling, self-conscious nineteen-year-old into a sophisticated young woman – at least on the outside. He’d taught me how to walk, how to carry myself in front of the camera and at fashion shows and, yes, even how to make love. I adored his dark hair, deep blue eyes, cleft chin, and broad shoulders. My perfect Petter. Twenty-five, tall, masculine, self-confident ... I cherished so much about my Petter; perhaps too much. I didn’t want to get serious with any man now. My career was just beginning. And so it was I who suggested that we break off the sex, and continue as agent/model and as “good friends”. Yes, it was very awkward crying in his arms at this moment, but I was damned glad he was here, holding me as he was.
“Can I get you something ... water, a drink?” he asked tenderly.
I wiped the tears from my swollen cheeks, sniffled a couple of times, and replied quietly: “Sure. Maybe a cup of coffee. I just put some on in the kitchen.”
“Cream and sugar?” he asked softly, with a reassuring half-smile.
“No .. I’ll take it black. Thanks.” Jonny had snuggled at my feet and was looking up at me with worried eyes. “I’m okay now, Jonny,” I said, giving him a few strokes on his head and back. I surveyed the living room and noted that I hadn’t done any of the cleaning chores I had planned to do the night before. The coffee table was littered with newspapers, my half-eaten dinner, and an ashtray overcrowded with cigarette butts. Petter returned with two cups of black coffee.
“Here you are!” he said, handing me one of the cups.
“I feel so embarrassed,” I blabbered. “I’m a mess, the apartment is a mess ...”
“Yeah, yeah. Just relax now ... and tell me what has happened.”
I took a sip of the hot liquid, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a slow stream of blue-grey smoke toward the ceiling. “You’re probably not going to believe this,” I began. “It was just like a nightmare ...”
“Try me,” he said, squeezing my hand lightly and then releasing it.
“Well, last night around half past 9:00 p.m., I was walking Jonny in the park. I was a little preoccupied with all the chores I had to take care of before going to bed, and I wanted to get back as soon as possible since I had an early morning shoot. We were walking on the side of the park closest to the corner of Økernveien and Ensjøveien, when Jonny got all excited and began barking at a shrub. I tried to pull him away, assuming that it was some poor terrified squirrel. But Jonny started digging at the ground with his front paws, and with such determination that I finally just unleashed him to uncover whatever he was looking for. You see, I sometimes let Kåre take him for a walk in the park, and then pay him 10 crowns or so ...”
“Who’s Kåre?” asked Petter.
“He’s the kid who lives in the apartment below me,” I replied. “I thought that perhaps Jonny had buried something there recently on one of their walks together, and now wanted to dig it up again. Anyway, I had just lit a cigarette and was about to congratulate Jonny on his efforts when I realized what he had dug up. I totally freaked out .. it was -- absolutely horrible!”
“What was horrible? What did he dig up!” asked Petter anxiously.
“It was a severed head,” I blurted. “The rotting head of a woman, I think – with no nose .. and with worms crawling all over her eyes, ears and mouth.”
“Oh, no .. oh, Turid!” gasped Petter. “No wonder you’re in such a state! Did you call the police?”
“No ...” I replied. “I mean, I didn’t – I was too incoherent at first. But I scared the hell out of everybody in a nearby apartment building, and someone there called the police. I then led them to it, and a policeman drove me home. I don’t remember much after that, but I must have passed out here on the sofa. I guess I was still in a state of shock and exhaustion.
“I bet you were,” replied Petter. “I’m really sorry you’ve gone through this.”
Petter put his arms around my shoulders and nuzzled his face into my hair ... it felt good; very good. I didn’t resist, but rather whimpered: “Take me to the bedroom, Petter ... please. I need you now.”
I awoke an hour-and-a-half later to find Petter sitting beside me on the bed, smiling and stroking my forehead and hair gently. “Hi,” he said. “Feeling better?”
“Hello. I must have drifted off. How long have I been asleep?” I asked sleepily.
“Not long .. I guess about 15 minutes, or so. How is my best model now?”
“Okay, Petter. I ...”
”Don’t say anything,” he said, interrupting me. “As far as I’m concerned, a horrible nightmare has had a very beautiful awakening.”
“Yeah .. it’s been a long time.” I noted.
“Too long,” he replied, giving me a loving peck on my left temple. “Listen, it’s now 12:55, and I have a 2:00 p.m. appointment with a client downtown. Do you mind if I take a quick shower here before I scoot off?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Go right ahead .. you know the way.”
“I can still cancel if you need me to ..”
“No, please don’t. Really! I’m fine now,” I said, trying to appear cheerful and refreshed.
“Are you sure?” he beseeched.
“Absolutely! Besides, I’ve screwed up your schedule enough today as it is,” I said.
Petter leaned toward my face and kissed me again, saying: “Okay. I won’t be a minute.”
While Petter was in the shower, I threw on a robe and played back the morning’s messages. 8:52 a.m. – a message from Petter. 9:23 a.m. – another message from Petter. 10:10 a.m. – was a call from a Lieutenant Tjæreborg, Oslo Police Station: “Yes, Miss Alvdal. Please call Lieutenant Tjæreborg at the Oslo Police Station as soon as possible regarding the incident in Kampen Park. Tlf. 22.48.00.35.” I sat staring into space for a moment, not certain what to think, and then I nervously picked up the receiver and began to dial. “May I speak with Lieutenant Tjæreborg?”
“Hold on while I page him, please,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “And whom shall I say is calling?”
“This is Turid Alvdal, returning his call.”
Seconds later, Lt. Tjæreborg picked up the phone. “Miss Alvdal? I’m handling the investigation of the Kampen Park case. I wonder if you could come down to the station and review your statement from last night for us officially – just for the record. I’m told that you were in shock at the time, and I just want to re-confirm the information for the investigation report.”
“I guess so,” I said, hesitantly. “When would you like me to come down?”
“As soon as possible, if that’s convenient,” he answered. “Just ask for Lt. Tjæreborg in Room 307. You will be shown the way.”
“Okay,” I replied nervously. “I’ll be there within forty-five minutes.”
“That would be fine. I’ll be waiting for you.”
I hung up the telephone and just sat still for a couple of minutes, staring blankly into space. When I finally looked up, I saw Petter standing over me, drying his hair.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes, fine,” I replied. “That was a Lieutenant Tjæreborg from the police station. He wants me to come down and verify my statement from last night.”
“Do you want me to come with you? It’s no problem, really!”
“No, no. I’m fine. I just have to pull myself together real quick. It’s just a routine matter, I’m sure. It shouldn’t take but a few minutes,” I mumbled.
At two o’clock I was in Lieutenant Tjæreborg’s office.
“Miss Alvdal?”
“Yes, and you must be Lieutenant Tjæreborg?!” I responded.
“That’s right. Miss Alvdal – if you would be so kind as to read over this statement from last night which we’ve typed up, and verify the facts and sequence of events.”
I read the report twice, cringing both times. “As far as I can remember, it’s pretty accurate,” I said finally.
“Good .. have you anything else to add? Perhaps something you forgot to mention last night, that you now remember? Anything – even if it seems trivial.”
“No, I can’t think of anything else,” I replied.
“Very well then, Miss Alvdal. If you’ll please just sign the statement right here ....”
“Do you have any clues about the identity of the woman,” I asked. “... or the murderer? I mean, who would do such a terrible thing?!! He must be a very sick person, indeed!”
“Well, we have found some additional body parts not far from where your dog dug up the head.”
I was shuddering as the Lieutenant spoke.
“But so far,” he continued, “no other significant clues that would lead to positive identification of either victim or murderer.”
I sat back in my chair.
“As for the murderer,” he added, “it could be anyone.”
I didn’t like the way he looked at me when he said that – almost as if even I could be a suspect.
“It’s difficult, Miss Alvdal, to get to the bottom of cases such as this one. When the victim and the murderer are involved with one another in some capacity, a motive can be established fairly readily .. and the killer identified. And in cases where there is a trend, we usually catch on pretty fast. But – an isolated incident such as this one – which happened so long ago, and with no fingerprints – well, it’s difficult.”
I shook my head and said, “I can’t understand how anyone could do such a thing .. and to mutilate the body like that!”
The lieutenant looked me straight in the eyes and asked: “Miss Alvdal, have you noticed anyone digging in Kampen Park over the past month?”
“Not that I can recall,” I replied.
“Let me ask you something else then,” he continued. “How often do you and your dog .. what is your dog’s name?”
“Jonny,” I answered quickly.
“How often do you and Jonny go walking in Kampen Park? Is it once-a-day, twice-a-day, more? In the evenings, mornings,, afternoons ..? And did Jonny run directly to that spot and begin digging up the head, or did he seem to find it by accident?”
“He ran directly, I think .. now that I .. I don’t understand what you’re getting at Lieutenant,” I protested uncomfortably.
“Miss Alvdal, we believe that the woman in question has been dead for about three weeks now. I just thought that you and your dog may have possibly seen someone digging in the park around the time of the murder.”
“No. I haven’t seen anything like that at all, Lieutenant.” Honestly, he made me feel guilty, just by the way he looked at me. “In fact,” I elaborated, “last night was the first night we had been to the park for a couple of months.”
“A couple of months, do you say?”
“Yes. I’ve had a very busy work schedule lately, so we’ve basically just been for short walks around the block.”
“I see. Well, thank you Miss Alvdal. I think that will be sufficient. If you should happen to think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
I replied that I most certainly would, and left the police station hurriedly, while thinking: ‘I hope they catch that sick son-of-a-bitch soon – I’m really getting the willies.’
Afterwards, I took the subway downtown and bought myself a new outfit. Buying new clothes usually makes me feel better when I’m depressed. But somehow, it didn’t do very much for my mood this time. On the way home, I stopped in at the Pakistani-owned tobacco store between the bus stop and the apartment building. That’s when I noticed the story on the front page of the evening edition of Aftenposten. “Oh, my God!” I exclaimed. “Here it is!”
The caption read: “IF DOGS COULD ONLY TALK.” The story was as follows: “Last night Oslo police uncovered several female body parts in Kampen Park near the corner of Økernveien and Ensjøveien. The police were called to Kampen after a golden retriever and its owner discovered the woman’s severed head. The dog had apparently been digging in the earth and delivered the decomposing head to its owner, who subsequently called the police to the scene. It is believed that the victim was abused, and that her neck was broken before her body was viciously hacked into pieces and buried separately. So far, no positive identification has been made of either victim or murderer. Police investigators speculate that the dog may have witnessed the murderer burying the victim’s head. Anyone with information helpful to solving the case and identifying either victim or murderer, is urged to telephone the police.”
When I reached the door of my flat, I was startled to look up from the newspaper and see Anne, Kåre’s mother, standing at my door. She was out-of-breath and had a terrified look on her face. “Have you seen Kåre this afternoon?” she demanded anxiously.
“Why no, Anne”, I replied.
“I thought he might be up here playing with the dog ...”, she snapped nervously, and yet pleadingly.
“No, I’ve been out all afternoon,” I replied. “You see, there was a body discovered in the park last night, and I was a witness sort of and, well, anyway, I had to go down to the police station to ...” I was rambling.
She cut me off: “Oh, God. I heard all about it! That’s why I’m so worried about Kåre. I left him all alone in the backyard for an hour while I ran some errands. I don’t do it often, but he was playing so contentedly by himself, and the sun was shining for the first time all week, and ... Well, it just seemed easier to leave him there for himself for a little while rather than dragging him around with me. I don’t know where he could have gone!” She was most distraught and was speaking faster, and faster.
“Oh dear. Take it easy, Anne. I’m sure it’s not anything serious. He’s probably playing with some of his friends at their house,” I said, trying to console and reassure her.
“No, he’s not!” she cried hysterically. “I’ve looked everywhere! He’s gone .. I know it. Something terrible has happened to him. I can feel it! Oh, please .. God, please help me!”
“Listen Anne .. just, just let me put these things in the apartment, and I’ll help you look for him. I’m sure there’s a simple and logical explanation. We’ll find him .. you’ll see. We’ll find Kåre.”
And so we began searching for little Kåre. With the help of the superintendent and his master keys, we went through every apartment in the building. Kåre was nowhere to be seen. We found the door to the attic surprisingly unlocked,, but all looked to be in order. Finally, the superintendent noticed that the door from the backyard to the basement had been forced ajar. There, next to the boiler, he found the limp body of young Kåre – hanging from the ceiling by a dog collar and leash – with his eyeballs frozen wide open, and his nose gouged out.
“Don’t let Anne in here!” he screamed to me. “It’s the boy; he’s .. dead.”
Within the next fifteen minutes to one-half hour, the apartment building was swarming with police, reporters, and ambulance personnel – not for Kåre, it was too late for him; but for poor Anne, who was at last heavily sedated and carted off to the hospital. The superintendent and I told the police all that we knew, which was practically nothing, and I went back up to my flat to call Petter. It was now around 7:00 p.m., and there was no answer at Petter’s apartment. He arrived, however, about 25 minutes later, having heard the news on the radio broadcast: “Kåre Holand, a nine-year-old deaf-mute, was found murdered in a basement today at Norderhovgata 73, at Kampen. No suspect has been named, but police believe the murder may be related to that of the butchered woman found buried in Kampen Park just 22 hours ago. Both victims had their noses gouged out of their faces in a similar fashion. Anyone – R-E-P-E-A-T -- ANYONE with information concerning either murder is urged to PLEASE NOTIFY THE POLICE IMMEDIATELY!”
“Turid!” cried Petter. “Are you alright?!! I just heard the news ..” He was out-of-breath and very anxious. “I tried to call you but there was no answer, so I panicked and rushed right over,” he explained.
“I don’t understand what’s happening, Petter,” I whined. “I’m really scared!”
“Where have you been?” he demanded. “And why didn’t you answer the telephone?”
“I’ve been down at Anne’s apartment with the superintendent and the police. She’s hysterical .. and they’ve taken her off to the hospital ..”
Just then the doorbell rang. It was Lieutenant Tjæreborg. “Miss Alvdal,” he said urgently. “I would like to have a word with you.”
“Certainly, Lieutenant. Please come in,” I replied.
He looked at Petter suspiciously.
“Lieutenant Tjæreborg,” I blurted, “this is Petter Hansen – my agent, and friend.”
The lieutenant nodded at Petter, saying: “I see .. pleased to meet you. Miss Alvdal,” he implored. “I’ve learned from one of your neighbors that Kåre often walked your dog?!!”
He was looking at me intensely again. I felt as if he were drilling a hole through my brain. “Why, yes Lieutenant. He doesn’t, I mean, he didn’t do so often. But I would occasionally pay him 10 crowns or so to take the dog out. It was more for the boy than for the dog, mind you. Jonny is very good with children, and Kåre has, uh .. had, some adjustment problems because of his disabili ..”
Jonny walked over to me, hearing his name mentioned – wagging his tail and barking softly. The lieutenant gave him a pat on the head.
“His mother and I never saw any harm in it,” I added.
“But why didn’t you mention it before?” the lieutenant demanded. “I specifically asked you earlier about your routines with the dog, and ...”
“Now, wait a minute, Lieutenant,” interjected Petter. “She’s been under a terrific strain lately. You certainly can’t expect her to rememb..”
“Petter – no!” I interrupted. “It’s okay. Let me speak.”
I realized that we were all still standing in the entrance hall. “Won’t you have a seat Lieutenant?” We all sat down in the living room. “Do you think there is a connection between the two murders, Lieutenant Tjæreborg?” I asked.
“Frankly, yes,” he responded. “Miss Alvdal – this is a very important question: had Kåre ever taken Jonny to the park by himself?”
“Yes,” I replied. “The park is the only place nearby for dogs and children to run and play freely.”
“And,” the lieutenant continued, “had Kåre been outside with the dog over the past several weeks?”
“Yes,” I said again. “Twice about three weeks or so ago. But not since. I think he had had a problem with some other kids, or was perhaps unhappy with Jonny the last time they were out, because he seemed a little distraught when they returned from their walk. He hasn’t taken much interest in walking Jonny for a couple of weeks now .. Oh, my God!” I exclaimed, realizing what the lieutenant was getting at. “You think that the murderer saw Kåre and Jonny together?!! And that ...”
“And that the murderer killed little Kåre because he was a witness!” piped Petter.
“Precisely,” confirmed the lieutenant.
“But Kåre couldn’t speak! Why would he worry about a nine-year-old deaf-mute?” I asked quizzically.
“I never suggested that the murderer knew that Kåre couldn’t speak, Miss Alvdal,” corrected the lieutenant. “Only that if other persons from the neighborhood had seen Kåre with the dog – then perhaps the murderer had as well. Returning to the scene of the crime is more of a frequent occurrence than most people think. My own hunch is that the murderer actually resides in, or near Kampen ..”
“And,” I chimed, “has been watching Kåre .. and .. Jonny .. for a very long time ...” My voice trailed off as I understood that danger lurked at my very doorstep. Petter sensed my fear and put his arm around me supportively.
“Not necessarily a long time,” said the lieutenant.
“But perhaps a few weeks?” asked Petter, worriedly.
“Perhaps,” replied the lieutenant. “But, let’s not jump to too many conclusions yet. At least we have a little more to go on now. I’m confident that we’ll catch him soon,” reassured the lieutenant.
“Lieutenant Tjæreborg,” asked Petter. “Is Turid in any danger?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” he replied. “She is not a witness to the crime; only to the remains. Stay calm and call me should any further unusual developments occur that may relate to the case in any way. I must be going now.”
And with that, the lieutenant was off, and Petter and I spent the next several moments sitting on the sofa, speechless and worried.
The succeeding few days passed without incident. Petter insisted upon staying with me
night and day. I didn’t object too strongly at first, in light of the events that had recently come to pass. But, by the third early evening, we had begun to get on each other’s nerves – or should I say, Petter got on mine.
I never could deal with feeling smothered .. by him or anyone else. As my sense of personal safety returned, so did my desire for independence. And so it happened that, on Tuesday, I picked a quarrel. It was pretty silly, actually. Petter had scheduled me for a modelling assignment the next morning, even though I had previously told him that I had planned to spend the day with my sister, who lived in Gjøvik. I went through the roof when he told me, and I screamed: “You are my AGENT, Petter. But you don’t OWN ME! I distinctly told you that I’d planned to go to Gjøvik tomorrow, and you just totally disregarded ...”
“Oh, come on Turid, “ he broke in. “This is the kind of break we’ve been waiting for! It could easily develop into an entire advertising campaign around you. Damn! You can see your sister anytime ...”
“I can seen my sister, OR do anything ELSE I want, ANYTIME, Petter! Do you understand that? You’ve started taking over my entire life here.” I was yelling irrationally now. My shoulders were high and tense, and I was trembling with rage.
Petter looked at me in astonishment, and asked: “What’s really bothering you, Turid?” He touched my face sympathetically; and I pulled away.
Looking down at the carpet, rather than to meet his eyes, I said: “I am sorry, Petter. I ... I just ..” I slowly raised my eyes to engage his, and quietly said: “I need to be alone. Can you please ..” This was difficult. “Can you please – leave?”
“I’ll rearrange the job to another day if you want,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t realize that it was so important for you to ..”
“No,” I said. “It’s not just that, Petter. I need some time to think about things .. about you .. and me ..”
Petter held my hands again, and said with a forced cheerfulness: “I understand.”
The next morning I was up early for the modelling assignment. I had walked Jonny around 5:00 a.m. – which was early even for him – so I knew he would be eager to go out again around 2:00 p.m. when I returned home. I guess that I sensed that something was awry as soon as I got inside the flat. Jonny didn’t meet me at the door as he usually did. Then I noticed a trail of dark-red blood streaking the carpet from the entrance hall to the bedroom. I ran into the bedroom screaming, “Jonny .. JONNY!”
He had been stabbed several times in the neck and stomach. I began shrieking hysterically for "HELP". Suddenly, the superintendent sprang from behind the closet door, where he had been hiding. He grabbed me from behind and firmly planted one hand over my mouth to prevent me from screaming, while restraining my frantic movements with his other hefty arm. I struggled, but to no avail. The superintendent then tied my hands together behind my back, and gagged my mouth with a piece of lingerie that he found lying on a bedside chair. It was then that I realized that we were not alone.
Reflected on the wall opposite from the closet was a third shadow, now moving toward us. I closed my eyes, crying a muffled “Oh, God. Please help me .. PLEASE!” When I opened them, I saw what appeared to be the twin of the superintendent, but horribly disfigured .. as if acid had eaten away parts of his face – his nose was missing entirely. In his hand was a bloody hunting knife. Terrified, my frantically convulsing body gave way to dizziness as the monstrous intruder slowly closed in on me.
And the last thing that I heard was the superintendent saying, “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Alvdal. But, you see .. he’s .. he’s family.”
THE END.
(Image: "Ground Zero", oil painting by Adam Donaldson Powell.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
