Devil's Touch

by Tina Lindegaard

  He stops and looks into his empty coffee mug.

  "You know there are several ways I can get this information. But it will take time. Time Nathan Wilkins may not have?"

  He looks directly at her. She looks back and turns off the water when it spills over.

  "I’ve only seen her once. That was yesterday."

  She looks out the door.

  "She was here in connection with an inheritance. She had inherited some money… From Stuart Pettersson."

  Fredericsson raises his eyebrows.

  "That Stuart Pettersson."

  She switches off the coffee machine and puts the coffee on the table. Fredericsson looks at it for a moment, imagining a hot cup of coffee.

  "Yes, I would think we’re talking about the same person. He’s rather well known.”

  He slowly looks up.

  "Do you know how much she inherited?"

  "A certain amount every month. Nathan asked me to do the paperwork quickly. I think he was afraid the family would object. His wife and children, you know."

  Fredericsson looks at her for a long time.

  "Wife and children."

  "That’s what I was doing this morning. I also went to the bank to fix the payments."

  "So everything is settled now?"

  Petra nods.

  "Yes, the first payment has already gone through."

  "How efficient."

  "Well, I hope I am. Now it will be hard for other heirs to object. That’s how Nathan wanted it."

  "Is it a large sum?"

  "To me it is."

  "Is the sum large enough to somehow make Nathan disappear?"

  "But probably not to other people and certainly not to her."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She’s very smart and well dressed… in a discreet way, and well groomed…"

  Fredericsson doesn’t understand.

  "You know, manicure, hairdresser every other week, and..."

  Petra’s voice has changed and Fredericsson exchanges a look with the officer through the door.

  "Oh, well, we’re all adults. You know what I mean."

  "Yes, I think I do. She looked like she made a lot of money without working very hard for them, at least not within regular office hours. More likely at night. Am I right?"

  She nods.

  "Do you have any idea when the credit card was lost?"

  She shakes her head.

  "I didn’t see any credit card when I left yesterday."

  "Not until this morning."

  "Did you have any clients yesterday?"

  She shakes her head.

  "An investigator we have used on a few cases arrived just before I left. I’m not sure exactly what kind of work he has done for us, but he arrived just before I left."

  ”Why?"

  She ignores the question.

  "He was here when I left."

  "Why was he here?"

  Petra shrugs, leaves the office and walks over to Nathan’s office.

  "I really don’t know why. Nathan asked for his number, and he arrived yesterday just when I was leaving. Nathan said I could leave, so I left. For the first time in a while, I was able to take it easy and pick up my son."

  Fredericsson looks at her with empty eyes.

  "It’s just so nice to be able to..."

  She stops and sends him a friendly smile.

  "So you left him alone with the investigator?"

  Petra nods.

  "What did he look like?"

  "Nathan?"

  "No, the investigator."

  Petra smiles and tilts her head.

  "He was in good shape, had a nice tan and brought and old, worn leather bag."

  She looks inside the office.

  "He was wearing a tan suede jacket. It looked really good on him."

  Fredericsson’s looks alert.

  "The jacket is a little worn around the collar and around the wrists and he was wearing suede shoes?"

  Petra is surprised and nods.

  "You don’t happen to have his address and his phone number?"

  "Just his phone number."

  "That’s fine. Can you give me that?"

  "Yes, of course. Do you know him?"

  "I might."

  Petra walks over to the desk. Fredericsson’s voice sounds thoughtful.

  "Actually, I think I saw him a couple of hours ago."

  Petra looks up at him with surprise, but Fredericsson turns to face the officer.

  "Please get her full statement and make sure she signs it. Get her out of here. When will forensic get here?"

  "Any minute now."

  "Thanks. Now get out of here."

  "Why such a rush?"

  Clearly, the officer is surprised.

  Fredericsson lowers his voice.

  "I’ve just come from the hospital and from Evy Schmidt. That’s where I met the man in the suede jacket."

  He looks straight at the officer.

  "It looks like there’s a connection between the cases."

  "Here you go. I hope you can read my handwriting."

  Petra looks him in the eye before he looks at the piece of paper.

  "Is that a two?"

  "Yes, sorry about that. Nathan isn’t too pleased with my handwriting either. But, yes it is. It’s 22-1"

  She points to the numbers on the piece of paper. Fredericsson feels her presence acutely, and he wonders when he was last on a date with a woman. He can’t remember. The officer quickly looks at Fredericsson, and then he turns his attention to Petra, gently touching her arm. Fredericsson is full of regret when the officer takes Petra by the arm and leads her over to her desk and her handbag on the floor.

  "The credit card?"

  "We’ll leave that. Don’t touch it again."

  Fredericsson eyes are caught by the letter lying balled up on the floor some distance from the desk. He slowly steps into the office. He feels a faint smell of smoke coming from the fireplace and is caught up in a feeling of luxury. He stops and lets the room fill him up while his eyes look at the desk and the two coffee cups. His eyes stop at the star in the window behind the desk.

  "Was that window damaged yesterday?"

  His voice fills the room and Petra quickly appears in the door.

  "Which window?"

  "Yes, there’s a star in the glass like something hit it."

  She shakes her head so her earrings dance.

  "No, that wasn’t there when I left yesterday."

  Fredericsson squats in front of the window and examines the chair.

  "Hmm."

  He notices the two envelopes by the chair. He gets up and looks at the desk where the handkerchief with dark stains on it is lying on the writing pad which is also clearly stained. He leans forward a little. Then he looks at the chair and then back at the writing pad. He looks increasingly annoyed as he walks around the desk and squats down again. He examines the shiny surface where the grain is visible. Now he is curious. Sounds coming from the front office make him look up.

  "Are you still here?"

  Surprised, he looks at the officer and Petra. Slowly he squats over the balled up letter. He almost lies down on the floor to see what it says, but soon gives up. He can’t read the old fashioned handwriting from that angle.

  "They’re here."

  The officer’s voice is clear, and louder than it was. He gets up quickly.

  "Who’s here…? Oh, right."

  Fredericsson passes them in the door and says to the forensic people as they are setting down their bags on the floor:

  "I think there’s some blood on the surface of the desk as well, not just on the writing pad and the handkerchief. And check if the chair might have hit the window, will you? "

  "Anything else you want to teach us, Fredericsson?"

  "Hmm. No, not really."

  He stops.

  "Yes, get those two out of here."

  He looks at Petra and the officer.

  "The letter on the floor
there…"

  He moves his head in the direction of the office.

  "…that’s urgent. Let me know personally."

  Then he squeezes by them and walks outside where the sun hits him in the face.

  "Get a shave."

  Fredericsson turns around and looks inside. He’s suddenly angry, but then he shakes his head and turns his face toward the sun.

  "I’m tired. I’m dead tired."

  He lets out a loud sigh.

  "And hungry too."

  He looks inside again. The front office is empty. He quickly disappears inside and soon reappears in the sunshine with his mouth full and with two croissants in one hand. With the other hand, he takes out his car keys from his pocket.

  "This is one great autumn day."

  He leans against his car with his body turned toward the sun and his head resting on the roof. He closes his eyes while he slowly eats the croissants.

  Chapter 17

  Eric is standing naked in front of the window looking at the buildings across the street. The city below him is covered in mist. The hungrier he gets, the more anxious he gets, and he caresses his stomach with his hand over and over waiting for the pain to go away. After a while, he turns around and walks into the kitchen. He opens the fridge, but only a can of coke and beer and a single bottle of champagne give some sense to the function of the fridge. He slams the door shut and turns to the cupboard next to the fridge and takes out a bag of chips. He opens the bag with his teeth and spits out the small piece of foil in the sink before stuffing his mouth full of chips and crunching them loudly. After eating another couple of mouthfuls, he changes his mind and takes out a beer from the fridge. He throws the bag of chips on the counter and opens the beer. It sprays all over him and the cold beer hits him. He closes his eyes and smiles.

  "Where is she? It’s almost eleven thirty."

  He runs his hand over his stomach feeling how the beer moistens his skin. He drinks the rest of the can and picks up the bag of chips again, stuffing his mouth with them, dropping some of them on the floor in the process.

  "9 ½ weeks."

  He looks around.

  "Honey. I think I have that."

  He looks in all of the cupboards before he finally finds a jar where the content has congealed.

  "Right, I guess not."

  He looks around.

  "Of course."

  It’s like he’s tasting the words.

  "Of course, of course, of course."

  He opens the fridge again and takes out the champagne.

  "Oh, yes!"

  He holds the champagne up to his face. His other hand is back on his stomach as he slowly turns the bottle. ”She must be here soon.” He walks into the living room and places the bottle of champagne on the large glass table. He smiles as he slowly removes everything else from the table. He catches sight of the red pillows that are spread all over the couch from the last time he fell asleep there. A pleasant tune fills the room and he turns to face the door. He looks at the table one last time with a big smile on his face. Then he walks over to the door but stops and looks back. He looks at the large floor to ceiling windows. Then he looks at the table and then back at the windows and then he shrugs. He looks through the peephole. ”Just as beautiful as I remembered her. Why have I never thought of this before?” He opens the door wide, and the neighbor who is just passing his door stops. She looks up and down his naked body. He gives her a cold look and then she moves on down the hall with slow steps, and he can hear the metallic sound of her walker every time she puts it down on the floor.

  "Come in."

  He steps back. She nods and looks down, and her blonde hair falls forward, hiding her face. He closes the door behind her and leans against it. She stops in front of the huge glass table. Then she finally looks up and turns to face him. He walks over to her with a smile on his face.

  "As you can see, I’ve started the party already."

  He spreads his arms out and laughs as he walks over to her, his eyes slowly looking up and down her body. He can tell that she’s not wearing any stockings. Her very high heels give her calves a beautiful arc.

  "You’re not usually dressed like this."

  His eyes stop at her long, pale coat, and his eyes show his disapproval. Then she slowly opens her coat and reveals her naked body.

  "I knew it. Not just a pretty face."

  He walks toward her, never taking his eyes off her naked body. He stops when he thinks that he notices a small bump on her stomach. She puts her hand in her pocket and pulls out the old tin can that he knows so well from all the other times she had delivered drugs to him.

  "I brought a little of everything."

  She opens the can and holds it out. He looks up and the look in his eyes is unmistakable. She closes her coat and turns her back to him. He suddenly looks angry and his hand is back on his stomach. She puts down the tin can on the table and picks up the champagne bottle before she turns to face Eric.

  "Glasses?"

  He stares at her without answering. She walks past him into the kitchen.

  "They’re at the bar."

  His voice reflects the mood he’s in. She comes back to the living room and walks over to the bar, where she picks up the glasses, flirts with him a little, and grabs the bottle by its neck. Then she looks intensely at him, her eyes smiling, as she walks over to the couch and turns to face him. Then she slowly sits down. Her coat slides up her legs and reveals the upper part of her thigh. The contrast between her fair skin and the black leather couch is stunning, and the sound of glass hitting glass when she puts down the champagne glasses on the table is like the sound of a shot.

  "Come on, let’s get the party started."

  He sounds a little annoyed and she pushes the tin box over to him. He tries to smile, but it doesn’t really work.

  "I though you needed the drugs most?"

  He touches his forehead and still doesn’t smile.

  "I can see that you’re sweating. Let’s start."

  She nods at the tin box.

  "If you insist."

  "You’ll only feel worse if you don’t get something now."

  He sits down next to her. His eyes are still looking at her thighs. Then he puts his hand on her thigh, but she moves over a little so his hand ends up on the couch. She smiles, opens the tin can and hands it to him.

  "I’ve brought a little bit of everything."

  With regret, Eric stares at his hand on the couch. She gives him the tin can and leans closer to him. He can see the outline of her breasts when her coat falls open a little. Her face is very close to him, and her brown eyes smile at him in a way that he knows will haunt him every time he hasn’t been with a woman for a while. He is feeling more and more warm.

  "You’re sweating a lot."

  She puts her hand into the can and pulls out a bag of white powder.

  "Do you have the money?"

  Eric sighs, but she only leans a little closer and smiles at him.

  "Over there."

  He points at the table by the door.

  She gets up quickly and walks over to the door. She looks at the money just lying there. Then she closes her eyes and swallows something.

  "You know what? We’ll settle that when I leave."

  She smiles and walks back to him holding out the bag.

  "It’s from a new supplier. It’s not that strong, so just go ahead."

  "I won’t pay as much if it isn’t as strong."

  Eric doesn’t sound so annoyed anymore. He opens the bag as she lets herself fall back on the couch next to him.

  "That’s not enough, Eric."

  She looks at him.

  "Remember, it’s not that strong."

  Eric shrugs and is overwhelmed by a need to forget everything.

  "Come on, Eric."

  She nods at the bag once more. He shrugs again and she watches his every move carefully. She leans forward and grabs the bag.

  "I don’t want any more."
>
  "Sure you do. Remember, it’s not that strong."

  Eric breathes heavily and runs his hand over his face again. He can still feel the sweat on his forehead and he takes the bag as she gives it to him.

  "Will you open the champagne?"

  She smiles at him, her face very close to his.

  "You really have incredible eyes."

  Eric speaks slowly and his words sound muffled to him. He takes the bottle and pulls off the foil as she opens her coat and leans closer to him. He can hear her breathing getting heavier.

  "I’ll never forget those eyes. You have a customer for life."

  She takes the bottle away from him and nods at the tin can.

  "Take that bag. It’s on the house since I can’t supply the strong stuff."

  She struggles with the champagne cork.

  "Just take it."

  Eric can’t stop looking at her. She runs a finger down over his face while his eyes are focusing on her lips. The cork comes loose from the bottle and the champagne spills all over the table. She lets the champagne run down into her lap and Eric can’t take his eyes off her white skin. With a small movement, she lets the cork fall down into her pocket. She draws small circles on her thigh with her finger as she takes the foil and the metal wire from the champagne bottle away from Eric and drops them into the same pocket. She looks at the clock on the wall. Ten to twelve. She opens the bag full of multicolored pills and puts four of them into her mouth. Then she puts the bottle to her mouth, almost caressing it as she drinks from it. She looks over the bottle and leans forward. She closes her mouth over his and her tongue separates his lips before she lets the pills and the champagne flow into his mouth. She holds on to his jaw and slowly removes her mouth before finally letting the bottle rest against his lips.

  "Amazing."

  Her mouth is very close to his ear, and he can feel her warm breath before he swallows a couple of times, and feels how the champagne flows down his throat. She takes his hand and moves it up to the neck of the bottle.

  "Take it."

  He hesitates but grabs hold of the bottle. She gets up slowly, so close to him that her coat caresses his cheek.

  "I just need to go to the bathroom, you know."

  She winks at him.

  "You’re worth it."

  His words are slurred and he can’t really focus.

  "Aarh..."

  She looks down at him.

  "I. I. I think I feel… Are you sure the quality is. Is OK?"