Emma Frost Mystery Series Vol 7-9

by Willow Rose

  “You don’t know? I thought everyone around here knew,” Hansen said. “Heard it through the grapevine, as they say.”

  Peter shook his head. “Nnno, sir. I don’t think anyone knows.”

  Hansen shrugged. “Well, the stories they tell are probably better, then. They do tell stories about it, don’t they?”

  “Well, yes,” Peter said.

  “So, what did happen?” Ulrik finally asked.

  The old man looked at him. There were all kinds of emotions in his eyes. Most of them were regrets.

  “He killed himself. Shot himself with my rifle. Bang. Just like that, and everything was destroyed. There’s your story. Not as exciting as you imagined, huh? Well, tragedies rarely are.”

  21

  November 2014

  I TRIED TO GET some rest once the kids had left for school, but with the dogs in the house, it was impossible. Kenneth kept growling and biting my comforter, pulling it of me. I put him in the hallway and shut the door. He went quiet for a long time. That made me seriously nervous. I walked into the hallway and saw that he had left a small present for me on the rug.

  “Kenneth!”

  I grabbed him by the collar and carried him into the yard. When I came back inside, I spotted Brutus sitting in the corner of the living room. He was staring directly at me with his strange white eyes. I paused. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. I still felt like he was planning how to take over the house…or maybe even the entire world.

  “Don’t just sit there,” I said to him.

  He still didn’t move. I sighed and let him be. He seemed to do whatever pleased him anyway. I couldn’t understand how a big dog like that could be that quiet, when the small one created such turmoil wherever it went.

  I walked to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then went upstairs and removed the poop with a small bag before I picked up the rug. I put it in the washer in the basement, then returned to my coffeepot in the kitchen. The kids had eaten cereal and toasted bread for breakfast, but I had made dough the night before, and all I needed was to roll it out and make small buns to put in the oven, and they would be ready for afternoon tea. I had made them with raisins this time, trying to be a little healthier. I looked at myself in the mirror. My black sweatpants were tight on my thighs. I didn’t feel too good about myself. I decided to cut back on the sweets and maybe start running on the beach. The thought made me tired. Why did it have to be like that? Maybe there was some machine I could buy? I certainly wasn’t going to try any of those diet pills that people used. I wasn’t that desperate. One of my childhood friends had started Herbalife at the age of eighteen and put on so much weight within the first year, I could hardly recognize her. Still, she swore it was good for her to keep using the product, and even tried to sell it to her friends, including me.

  I walked back to the kitchen and poured myself a big cup of coffee. I really needed it. I pulled my laptop closer and turned it on. I wondered about the fire and the mayor and if there was any news on the tall slender man in the black suit. I couldn’t help thinking that I had heard about a similar figure before, but I couldn’t remember where. I hacked into the police case files and found that Morten hadn’t written his report on the fire last night yet. I wondered if he was even back from Esbjerg, and called him. He had just gotten back. It had been hard, he said. Mrs. Bang had asked him to stay while she talked to the doctors. She was scared of being alone. She had always been with Erling. He had taken care of everything. Now, she had no one. So, Morten had stayed a little while, till the doctors gave her something to make her fall asleep. Then, he had finally left and taken the ferry back. Morten and I talked for a little while, but he was busy and about to write his report, he told me. The town was in a state of shock at the loss of its mayor right before the election.

  “Okay. I’ll let you get back to work. But tell me first if you found anything new. What about the knife used to kill Ulrik Larsen? You said you might be able to track it. Have you found out who owns it yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, I just received the serial number,” he said. “I’ll pull it out of the system as soon as possible. First, I need to go to the bathroom, then I’m getting a cup of coffee, and I’ll be right on it. Talk to you later.”

  He hung up and I put the phone down. I sipped my coffee and was wondering whether there was any chocolate in the cabinet, when the front door opened.

  “Hello?”

  It was Sophia. She rushed into the kitchen.

  “Easy there,” I said with a grin. “There’s coffee enough for the both of us.”

  “Have you seen it?” Sophia looked at the computer on my table. I hadn’t had the time to open any programs yet.

  “Seen what? If you’re talking about the fire last night that killed the mayor, then yes. I saw it all. Coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” Sophia said, and sat down. I could hear Kenneth barking on the back porch and scraping the door, wanting to get inside.

  “And you better get a refill as well. You’re going to need it,” Sophia continued.

  I frowned. “That sounds serious. What’s up?”

  Sophia grabbed my computer and opened the Internet. I served us both some coffee, then sat down next to her.

  “What’s up with him?” Sophia asked, and turned her head.

  I looked in the same direction and spotted Brutus sitting in the corner of the room, staring at us.

  “Where the heck did he come from?” I asked. The door to the kitchen was still closed. How did he get in? “Brutus! Stop staring at us. I swear, that dog freaks me out,” I said, and looked at Sophia.

  “Not as much as this will,” she said, and turned the screen so I could see.

  It was a Facebook page. It had my picture as the cover and as the profile picture. The pictures weren’t very flattering. The name of the page was:

  I HATE EMMA FROST.

  What the heck?

  Baffled, I read the description of the site:

  “Emma Frost is an egotistical greedy twit, who doesn't know when to stop. Her editors are monkeys, she thinks she's all that, and she ruins everything. Join this group if you feel the same way about this completely egotistical woman.”

  I scoffed, then read the information about the site. Under personal information, it said: Emma Frost should go jump in a lake, along with her enormous ego and her terrible books. Under personal interests, it said: Emma Frost is a moron. She makes money out of other people’s tragedies and deaths. She’s a vulture.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sophia said. “I received a friend request earlier today from this site. That’s how I saw it.”

  I looked at Sophia and shrugged. “It’s very childish, really. No one’s gonna care about what they write. I know I don’t.”

  “Well, someone seems to care,” she said, and pointed to the top of the site that showed the number of followers the site had.

  “Wow, one hundred and seventy-nine followers?” I said, startled.

  “The page was just created yesterday,” Sophia said.

  “How can this be?” I tried hard to suppress the emotions going through me at that moment. I thought I was well-liked? I knew there would always be some people out there who didn’t like what you did, especially as a writer. But hating me? That was a difficult pill to swallow.

  Sophia went back to the front page and pointed at the first post made by the creator of the page. It was a story about me, of course, and how I had illegally hacked into the police’s database to look into case files in order to get material for my books. I swallowed hard and looked at Sophia. That was some pretty serious stuff. How could this person know this about me? No one except the people closest to me knew.

  “There’s more,” Sophia said. “It’s been quoted in all the big newspapers online this morning. This could get ugly.”

  22

  November 2014

  THEY CAME FOR HIM while he was still in school. Rasmus saw them from the window as they crossed the courtyard outside th
e old building of Nordby High School. He knew who they were. Officers Morten Bredballe and Allan Jorgensen. Their faces were serious as they walked towards the front entrance of the high school. Mrs. Nygaard had her back turned to her students while scribbling on the whiteboard. Rasmus had no idea what she was talking about, and he didn’t care. He hadn’t cared for a long time about anything in school. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was all the same crap anyway. Growing up was bogus. Adults couldn’t be trusted. Was he supposed to grow up and turn into one of them? There was no way. When he looked at his parents, he saw nothing but miserable people. It wasn’t worth it anyway. No, Rasmus didn’t want any part of it. He didn’t want to end up like them or like any of all those pathetic adults he was surrounded by.

  For years, Rasmus had walked around with a knot in his stomach…constantly worried about his mother. As a child, he remembered crying in school because he was certain his mother would die before he came home from school. He remembered the fear inside of him because he never knew what his dad might do to her. It could be little things that set him off. Like Rasmus opening the door to the car into a hedge or pulling the handle too roughly on the door. His dad would yell at him for days, then turn on his mother and start yelling at her. Soon, he would be throwing things and slapping her around. It was always set off by something Rasmus did, and therefore, he always blamed himself. Growing up, he was constantly terrified of doing anything wrong. He would tiptoe around the house, making sure he didn’t make a sound to set off his dad’s anger. But still, it kept happening, over and over again. His dad would even pull him out of his room and put him in front of his mother so he could see what he had done to her. The bruises on her face told him he had been bad, that he had done wrong. Then he would fall to his knees and cry and apologize and promise to never do anything wrong again.

  But he could never manage it. There would always be something. When he did the dishes, he might put a plate down too hard on the table. Or he might not have washed his hands properly before dinner, or he might touch the door with wet hands trying to destroy it. It wasn’t until his teenage years that he realized there would always be something…that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to be quiet enough or behave correctly in the eyes of his father.

  That was when he decided he needed to get away. Nobody wanted him around anyway. No one except Slender Man.

  He had come to him a few months ago…inside Minecraft, his favorite game. At first, Rasmus had been scared of him, but soon he realized that Slender Man didn’t want to harm him. He had taken part in Rasmus’ game and adopted him along with others. He told him he was going to take good care of him and that he wanted him. He liked him. He made Rasmus feel like he was worth something, like he was wanted, and then he had told him to do something for him in return. Rasmus hadn’t hesitated for one second. Not when Slender Man had explained why it had to be done. It made sense. It gave Rasmus a purpose in life. But he knew the officers coming for him would never understand. That’s why he decided to keep quiet about everything. They were coming to question him, but he wasn’t going to give them anything. He had wondered if he should run, get away, but there was nowhere to run. He didn’t have any money, and had nowhere to go. Besides, he wasn’t alone in this. Slender Man would take care of him. He had impressed him. That was what he had told him after he had done it. Rasmus had never impressed anyone before. It felt good, and he wanted to keep impressing him.

  The door to the classroom opened, and the principal stepped inside, followed by the two officers. They talked to Mrs. Nygaard with low voices and she looked down at Rasmus.

  “Rasmus?” she said.

  He looked at her.

  “Pack your stuff. These gentlemen have some questions for you to answer. You have to go with them.”

  Rasmus had already packed everything and put on his jacket. He stood up and walked towards them. As he left the class, all the students of the school had their noses pressed against the windows. He didn’t care about them. Just as he was about to get into the police car, he looked between the trees of the small forest across from the school. In there, between the trees, he was certain he spotted him…that he saw Slender Man there. Rasmus touched his nose and realized it was bleeding heavily. Rasmus wiped it away with his sleeve, then smiled and got inside the car while singing to himself:

  Someone’s always watching me

  Someone’s always there

  When I’m sleeping he just waits,

  and he stares

  23

  November 2014

  LISA RASMUSSEN COULDN’T BELIEVE her luck. The mayor was gone. Dead in a fire last night. A fire-arson set by some man in a suit. She couldn’t have done it better herself. But it wasn’t her, and that was almost the best part of it. She had thought about it many times, yes. But someone else had beaten her to it. Now, she had no opponent for the election, unless someone decided to run at the last minute, that was, but that was very unlikely. And, even if they did, they would be completely unknown to the public, and no one would vote for them.

  She decided to celebrate by having an organic wheat berry tabouli salad for lunch at Café Mimosa downtown. She even bought a kale and parsley-smoothie to top it off. It was a celebration, but she still needed to stay strong and healthy.

  Lisa was reading the local paper online with much satisfaction, devouring everything they had written about the death of the mayor. She tried hard to not seem too cheerful as she read about how he was killed in the fire and how his wife made it out just in time. Lisa had no idea who this guy in the suit was, but she owed him one.

  “Now, it’s important that you show your support and grief over the loss,” her campaign manager had said when she called that morning. “This is a major opportunity for you to show the people your human side, your soft side. You have to express your sadness in the papers and give a heck of a speech at his funeral. I’ll write some words if you need me to.”

  Lisa knew she was right. Now it was time for her to show that side of her, even though it was hard. She wasn’t sure she had it in her. Even if she was the only candidate, and she was sure to take the seat, there would still be an election. People still had to like her. She scrolled through the online articles in the national newspapers. The death of the mayor on the small island wasn’t big news, but it was mentioned in most of them. But something else out of the island was a big story. The story of that writer, that Emma Frost-character. Lisa read and devoured the story about Emma Frost using illegal methods to research for her books. This was certainly interesting.

  “Are you done with this? Do you want me to take your plate?” The waitress, Julia, asked.

  Lisa looked up and smiled. Julia smiled back. She was very fond of Lisa, ever since Lisa had killed that serial murderer in her café a year ago.

  “I’m done. Thank you.”

  “So, you’re going to be the mayor now, huh?” she asked.

  Lisa smiled her election-smile. She liked that thought. She liked it a lot. “Yes. Yes, I guess I am.” She paused, remembering what her campaign manager had told her. Her face turned grave. “But, what a tragedy. I feel so sorry for poor Mrs. Bang. I’m sad that these are the circumstances in which I’ll take over the seat as mayor. It will be with a heavy and grieving heart.”

  My God, she sounded real statesmanlike. Almost presidential. Well, what do you know? She did have it in her after all. The words didn’t feel natural, but they fell at the right time. She could tell by the look on Julia’s face.

  “That’s not your fault. I, for one, am looking forward to having you as mayor. I think you can do many great things for the island.”

  “Well, thank you so much.”

  “Could I interest you in a dessert?”

  Lisa shook her head. “No. Must stay in shape. Election is coming up.”

  “It’s chocolate cake. Organic, naturally.”

  It did sound interesting, but Lisa had her doubts. She couldn’t allow herself to slack off now.
She had to stay on course and not show any weaknesses.

  “No. I’m sorry.”

  Julia smiled and put the plate onto her tray. “Well, maybe next time then.”

  Lisa gathered her things and put her iPad back in her briefcase. She had a busy afternoon ahead of her, with many important meetings. As she received the bill and signed the receipt, she started tasting the words.

  “Mrs. Mayor. Mayor Rasmussen. Mayor Lisa Rasmussen. Mrs. Mayor Lisa Rasmussen.”

  It all had such a good ring to it, she thought to herself, as she paid her bill and got up. This was what they would call her soon. This was how she would sign her papers. As the mayor of the entire island. She was exactly what this town needed. And no one could stop her now.

  24

  November 2014

  I COULDN’T STOP READING the articles, even though Sophia told me to let it go. Once she had left, and we had drunk too much coffee and eaten an entire box of chocolate, I grabbed my laptop and went through the newspapers, trying to figure out what everyone was writing about me. It was in all the papers by noon, and one of them even wrote that people ought to stop buying my books, since they had come to be by using illegal methods. It was unethical. Another wrote that the police needed to start an investigation. I read everything, and realized that whoever had written the article on the Facebook page in the first place seemed like he had pretty thorough documentation. He had taken parts of my books and details from them and asked the police if those things had been in the media or ever been mentioned publicly. The amount of details and insider knowledge could in no way have been obtained without seeing the case-files, he stated. Furthermore, he claimed to have solid proof that he was willing to provide to the police. I couldn’t help wondering what solid proof that could be? Was he himself some sort of hacker and had he traced my IP address? How the heck did he know all this?