Devil's Touch

by Tina Lindegaard

  "Fredericsson."

  The officer sounds relaxed.

  "Absolutely nothing has happened tonight. Are you sure this is not a waste of time?"

  "You can go now. I’ll take over. Will there be a replacement?”

  The officer nods and looks at his watch again.

  "In 15 minutes."

  "OK. Go home and get some sleep."

  Marc is still looking at the two people by the elevator when the nurse brings him his coffee.

  "At least this is warm."

  Marc nods in the direction of Fredericsson.

  "What has happened since the police is here?"

  She looks at him for a long time before replying hesitantly.

  "A woman was assaulted in her own home. It was bad."

  Marc looks at her thoughtfully.

  "Attempted murder?"

  "But she’ll survive. The perpetrator just missed the main artery in her neck."

  "She was lucky."

  "Yes, very. Otherwise she wouldn’t be alive now."

  He raises his eyebrows and drinks from his coffee. He bites his lip when the coffee burns its way down his throat and looks straight at the nurse.

  "You know what the worst part is? It actually helps to know that you’re not the only one feeling bad."

  She shrugs. He takes another sip of his coffee, and a new light slowly starts to shine in his eyes. He takes another sip and looks at the nurse again.

  "Thanks, I feel better now."

  The nurse looks at him with surprise.

  "Your coffee wasn’t warm?"

  He gets up and looks down at the nurse.

  "Thank you again."

  He picks up the papers with his mother’s handwriting and slowly walks down the hall.

  A nurse passes Fredericsson on her way into Evy’s room with a cup of coffee.

  "Do you have to be sick or dead to get some coffee around here?"

  He looks down at the coffee and then back at the nurse. His voice is cheerful, but it’s obvious that the nurse doesn’t think it’s funny. She moves her head in the direction of the room behind the counter. Fredericsson looks at the officer for a long time.

  "I’ll get it."

  "You’re a true friend."

  The officer smiles with a shrug.

  "You haven’t changed much."

  Fredericsson smiles a crooked smile as he starts to walk in Marc’s direction.

  "I’m too old for that. Now I’m just a grumpy old man."

  Fredericsson doesn’t look at the officer as he speaks.

  "Ha. You’re not retiring any time soon."

  Fredericsson turns his head.

  "So you think I have lots of time to change?"

  The officer just shakes his head and disappears behind the counter.

  Fredericsson stops outside Evy’s room. He’s still looking directly at Marc.

  "Good morning."

  Fredericsson’s voice is still a little rusty and he looks down with envy at Marc’s coffee.

  "It tastes like coffee. It probably is coffee. But I’m not sure it works like coffee. Let me tell you a secret.

  Marc looks at him for a long time.

  "Yes?"

  "I think it’s decaf."

  Fredericsson gives out a loud sigh.

  "Don’t say that."

  Marc nods.

  "And another secret…"

  Fredericsson leans a little closer to Marc.

  "It doesn’t taste good either."

  The officer comes back with a cup of coffee for Fredericsson, who just stares at it. The officer looks at him patiently.

  "Come on, Fredericsson, you want your coffee or not?"

  Fredericsson makes no move to take the cup.

  "Before you couldn’t live without it."

  The officer shakes his head and lifts the cup to his lips.

  "Wait. Give it to me."

  Fredericsson takes the cup from the officer’s hand.

  "It’s worth the risk."

  Marc laughs and Fredericsson scowls at him when he puts his lips to the cup and takes a cautious sip. Then he looks at Marc.

  "It tastes like coffee."

  Fredericsson nods.

  "And not good."

  Fredericsson nods again, rocking back and forth a little.

  "And it could be decaf."

  Fredericsson breathes heavily.

  "That’s a first..."

  The officer laughs.

  "Who’d have thought that this would ever happen to you? Now you’re on your own. I’m going home."

  The officer leaves and Fredericsson and Marc stand silently in front of each other. Marc looks into the room and nods at Evy. Then he slowly walks into the room, while Fredericsson follows him attentively. Marc looks at Evy.

  "Haven’t we met before?"

  Evy looks at him without recognizing him and slowly shakes her head.

  "No?"

  Marc steps closer but stops when she raises her hand.

  "I don’t know you!"

  "I’m sure we’ve met before."

  Fredericsson takes a step closer to Marc. Marc tilts his head a little. Evy and him look at each other for a long time before she turns her head away and looks out the window.

  "Was that your phone just now?"

  Marc is surprised by the question.

  "Was it that loud?"

  He hesitates and slowly sticks his hand inside his jacket. A haunted looks appears on Evy’s face.

  "I just want to give you my card. I’m a private investigator."

  He takes a few steps over to her and gives her the card. She takes it carefully and quickly hides it under her covers.

  A hard tap against his suede jacket makes Marc jump and he turns around and stares straight into Fredericsson’s eyes.

  "Get out. We don’t need the press or any other snoops."

  Fredericsson pushes him toward the door with a flat hand against his back, while he snorts and shakes his head.

  "I’ll walk you to the elevator and you’ll get in and go all the way down and not come back."

  The elevator opens and Fredericsson pushes him inside.

  "Stay away!"

  "In case you need to get in touch with me."

  Fredericsson stares at the card in Marc’s outstretched hand. Just as the elevator doors start to close, he rips it from his hand and the doors close between them. Fredericsson turns around and marches into the room.

  "Sorry about that, but I’m a grumpy old man when I don’t get my beauty sleep."

  Fredericsson makes a face.

  "And I don’t like reporters and snoops."

  "Private investigators."

  Evy’s voice is firm.

  "Snoops."

  Fredericsson’s voice is just as firm.

  Chapter 13

  Petra parks her car, humming to the last part of the song on the radio. She smiles and enjoys the view of the garden she has loved ever since she saw it for the first time. She had been angry when Nathan moved the office here from the city.

  "I’m a city girl."

  She had said to Nathan emphatically.

  "I belong where the lights are bright and shopping is part of everyday life."

  Nathan had smiled and said:

  "Well, that you are. But I’m still moving the office. I hope you’ll come with me."

  After that, they hadn’t mentioned it, until a month before the move where Petra had said in passing:

  "I like working for you, so I’ll come with you."

  But the truth was that she hadn’t been able to get herself a better job. To her surprise, Nathan had made life easy for her. She was allowed to come in late, so she could pick up paperwork from their partners and the court house on her way. This meant that she came in late and left early almost every day, since she often had to deliver urgent papers on her way home as well. Both she and Nathan knew that now that he was no longer part of a law firm, he wouldn’t have as many clients as before. That didn’t seem
to bother Nathan. He still paid her the same salary and she could even sit in the garden when she needed to read through a lot of material. Nathan had used her eagerness to learn and maybe get a better job later in life, and he had started giving her more and more things to do that weren’t secretarial work. Petra smiles and loosens her seatbelt. ”The air is fresher here than in the city. Here I can smell the flowers and when the rain comes.” She gets out of the car and breathes in deeply before straightening her slim skirt. She walks over to the other side of the car and gets out her bag and the pile of papers she has picked up.

  "He’ll be busy."

  She sighs and realizes that so will she. She knows that when Nathan has a lot to do, he’s also very moody. He can change from being the nicest person to being almost mean. She slides her hands over her hair to check that it’s still in place. He had changed after his wife got sick. Everything that he used to care for suddenly meant nothing to him. He buried himself in his work and became distant. When he was told that she didn’t have long to live, it was as if everything was turned upside down. So much so that it even became too much for Denize, and in a weak moment Nathan had complained to Petra about it.

  "Denize always says that she’s fine when I ask her. But I can see that she isn’t."

  Nathan had sighed deeply.

  "Why Petra?"

  Petra can still feel how unpleasant the situation was. She didn’t have an answer.

  She walks down the garden path, trying to balance all the papers she’s carrying.

  "Oh, no!"

  She can feel how the heel of her shoe sinks down between to flagstones.

  "I’ll have to get them fixed again. It’s costing me a fortune."

  Feeling a little annoyed, she walks the rest of the way up the garden path to the front door. She pushes the door with her back like she always does, but it doesn’t open. She drops some of the papers.

  "Hmm."

  She tries again, but it still won’t open.

  "That’s strange."

  She carefully puts down the papers and gets her key from the bag, opens the door, and switches off the alarm. When she steps back from the alarm, she hears a strange sound of plastic breaking under her high heel. She bends down and picks up one half of a credit card.

  "Evy Schmidt."

  She flicks it between her fingers.

  "She must have lost it on her way out."

  She looks down. ”Strange that I didn’t notice it yesterday.” She bends down and picks up the other half. ”She must have come back later.” Petra walks into her office, puts down her bag, and places the credit card on her desk. Then she walks into Nathan’s office, but there’s no one there. She looks at the file from the night before lying on his desk together with the coffee cup from yesterday morning, the thermos, and the unused cup. ”That’s strange. He usually puts the cups on my desk when he’s done so I can clean them up.”

  Slowly, she walks over to his desk. The case she managed to get postponed yesterday is lying open on the desk. She lifts up the thermos. ”Maybe he’s had a single cup.” Then she looks at the writing pad and the handkerchief, both are covered in dark stains. She walks slowly forward, but stops abruptly.

  "Blood?!"

  She hurries back to her own office.

  "Nathan?!"

  She listens, but there’s no reply. Neither in her office nor in the small kitchen is there any sign that Nathan has been there since she left the day before. She desperately looks for notes he might have left for her, but there aren’t any. She quickly walks over to the door of the private part of the house. It isn’t locked.

  "Strange... It’s always locked when he’s not here."

  She walks into the hallway.

  "Nathan?!"

  Her voice seems to disappear in the large space.

  "Nathan?!"

  This time her voice is loud and clear and she’s sure he can hear it, but still there’s no reply.

  "Nathan?!"

  But again her call isn’t answered. She suddenly feels nervous and starts walking faster. She closes the door to the private part of the house and leans against it for a long time.

  "Something’s wrong."

  Nervously, she looks at the front door that she has left open, and she spots the pile of papers outside. She looks over at the phone and then back at the papers. ”I need some time to think.” She slowly walks outside to get the papers, carefully putting them on top of her pile before picking them up. She closes the front door with her shoulder and hears the small click when the door locks itself. She puts the papers on her desk and looks at the broken credit card. She looks over at Nathan’s office, and at the desk and the white handkerchief. Then she bends forward and picks up the phone. She quickly moves some papers on her desk and places the business card in front of her before dialing the number.

  Chapter 14

  The light slowly fills Eric’s bedroom, and the loud noise from the TV finally tears him from his sleep. His movements are slow as he tries to sit up in the bed.

  "Where’s that damn remote control?!"

  He lifts his covers but quickly lets them fall again. He turns halfway and finds it on the other side of the bed. He gropes around and finally finds the right button and switches off the TV.

  "Oh, my poor head."

  This time he manages to sit up. The pill glass falls to the floor and the sound makes his face twitch. Then the thoughts from the night before slowly return and he smiles. He opens the drawer in the nightstand.

  "Empty! I really need something to get me started."

  He looks back into the drawer as if something would just turn up out of the blue if he wanted it enough, but that doesn’t happen. Instead he becomes aware of his headache again.

  "Hmm. OK, I guess painkillers are a good start as well."

  He sits and thinks for a while before slowly getting up from the bed, and finally a scornful laugh is released when he leaves the bedroom and walks into the bathroom. A few minutes later he returns with determined steps and one hand to his forehead.

  "I really need something to get me started. Then I will put some pressure on James later."

  He starts rummaging through the pile of clothes at the end of the bed. Some of it is still wet from last night.

  "Aarhh! Where is it?!"

  He throws one piece of clothing after another on the bed. Finally he finds his phone and looks at it for a long time.

  "Of course. No power."

  Feeling ready to give up, he pushes the clothes down on the floor and sits down on the bed. Still naked.

  "Not even that seems to work for me."

  He pulls out the drawer in the bedside table.

  "Right, there it was."

  He leans back and plugs in the phone.

  "There. Oh!"

  He puts down the phone on the bed and walks over to the pile of clothes on the floor. He looks at it for a long time, striking his forehead with the back of his hand.

  "Where did I put that card?"

  He squads down and starts looking through the clothes again.

  "Did I lose it?"

  He starts over. This time more systematically, all the while realizing that he’ll have to send it all to the dry cleaners. He smiles.

  "I think I’ll seduce the pretty one at the dry cleaners next time. I can always wave around my gold cards. There it is."

  He flicks the card between his middle- and index finger on his right hand and lets the left one slip down over his stomach before sitting down on the bed again. He dials the number on the card and waits full of tension as it rings a couple of times. Finally, someone answers. The voice on the other end sounds strange. Not at all like he remembers it from their meeting at the elevator yesterday. He listens intensely to the voice.

  "No, no! Don’t hang up. We met last night at the elevator in the hospital. What?! You can’t hear me…? I’ll try and speak up."

  Eric sits up.

  "We met last night in the hospital at the elevator." />
  Eric swallows loudly. ”How am I doing?!”

  "Yes, thank you. I’m feeling much better."

  ”No, I’m not, but I don’t intend to discuss that with you.”

  "I never introduced myself. My name is Eric Taylor. I would like you to follow James Schmidt. You probably know him from the media. I would like you to tail him. I want to know everything he does. I can spell his name if you want."

  Eric is silent while the man on the other end answers.

  "You have to start right away, it’s important. I think he’s… he’s done something illegal. It’s important that I know everything."

  Eric looks at his alarm clock.

  "Yes, it’s a quarter past ten."

  Eric feels how his body collapses. Then he takes the phone away from his ear and looks at it before putting it back to the ear.

  "You can start at seven."

  He sits completely still without moving a muscle.

  "OK, if you really can’t start any sooner. But then I need you to follow him around the clock."

  Eric breathes faster and faster. Then he holds his breath.

  "Yes, that’s my number."

  ”I must remember to disable the caller ID!”

  "Yes, I would like to have a report. My email address...?"

  Eric is gasping for breath. He picks up the business card and turns it over.

  "I’ll send you an email. Just send your fee in the email. As long as you promise to start at seven tonight."

  Eric nods to himself.

  "I really need that information."

  He breathes in and out as he strokes his forehead.

  "It’s important. Goodbye."

  Eric breaks off the call without waiting for an answer. A strange feeling of power mixed with fear fills him. ”I need something!” He looks back down at the phone. ”Hmm, she’s probably asleep, but if she wants to make some money she needs to bring me something. I need it more than ever.” He strokes his stomach again and presses speed dial. ”Pick up. Pick up.” He sighs.

  "Yes, I know you’re usually asleep this time of day, but I’ll soon start to shake if I don’t get something. I’ll pay you double if you come over now."

  He listens and suddenly her voice sounds sweet and sexy.

  "Hey."

  He stops and looks down at the hand that has been stroking his stomach.