Dead Men (Marie and Lotte Book 1)

by Mette Glargaard

  At the thought of The Ruminant Marie laughed inside, thinking how easily she could sort out Lotte’s problems and allow her to get her life back.

  “You describe him so well that I can clearly see what he’s like. When you tell how he goes around looking for something he cannot find and scratching his head like the guy from Laurel and Hardy. What is it you say he mutters: “Where is the... I put it right here... I know it is here... somewhere...’”

  They both broke up laughing at the thought of the stupid man that Lotte had once thought was her great love.

  “Yes, and despite his total lack of organization, there’s the fact that he insists on folding his boxer shorts before sex!”

  Again they both cracked up with laughter and Lotte almost felt that she could appreciate The Ruminant because he unwittingly supplied so much entertainment for her and her friend.

  “It’s just so nice to sit here with you, Marie, and laugh for a change. It just makes everything a little easier to handle. Thank you.”

  Marie just squeezed Lotte’s arm and smiled.

  × × ×

  There was a period of sunshine for a week in early May after I came back from two weeks of recreation and special fun in Oman. Lotte and I sat on the stone wall down by the water and chatted over a cup of coffee and a macaroon from a nearby bakery. Lotte was thrilled and was a new woman since I had helped her get rid of The Ruminant…without even killing him!

  “I just had a feeling that the apartment would be sold,” Lotte said as she dabbed at her mouth to remove a crumb. “It’s so nice to no longer feel locked into something that I hated. It was the best feeling ever and like winning the lottery!”

  She swung her multi-colored scarf back around her neck, a scarf she had bought on one of our shopping trips. She had confided in me that something of a hippie lived inside her and I persuaded her to buy the scarf. I knew that really it had been love at first sight despite her suggestions that the scarf was somewhat over the top. I had encouraged her and said that if you can’t be yourself, others couldn’t know you either and love you sincerely; I had heard one of my psychologists say that. Actually, I could see that the psychologist himself was very enthusiastic about the idea, so I took it as my own. I didn’t tell Lotte that bit since she might have misunderstood.

  The inevitable logic of the episode was that Lotte was nervous about buying the scarf because she was afraid of other people’s judgment. But the scarf was a very clear symbol of who she really was and wearing it meant that she had a chance to be loved fully. Once she accepted that there was really nothing to discuss.

  I was, as usual, impeccably dressed in an expensive camel hair jacket with another of my silk scarves around my neck and hand-made boots worth something in the region of a thousand dollars. My hair fell in well-defined waves and I smelled of expensive French soap. My desire is always to look like a painting by Chagall; the strokes of his brush look random sometimes, but each one is carefully considered; and so it was with my attire. Whether it be classic or every day, the thought about the little details and the planning gives me much satisfaction. Each small part of getting ready each day, from how I wash to selecting the right underwear for what I will be wearing, to my make-up and choice of perfume, each is part of a series of interlocking components that allow me to present myself to the world at large. Now you can appreciate how carefully I considered Verner’s farewell party.

  “It was some nameless holding company that bought it,” said Lotte. “I’m sure they will simply renovate it and sell it again. But I don’t care if it was sold to the zoo as the new monkey house so they could have got The Ruminant as part of the deal!” We both doubled up with laughter.

  I would never reveal to her that it was one of my holding companies that had bought it at a price that was considerably more than the true market value and at the same time had offered her a small apartment close to the city center at a price much less than market value. It didn’t matter. Lotte was my friend and now she didn’t have to live with an idiot who didn’t deserve her. So I lost money on the whole deal but that was insignificant compared to Lotte now having her own space. In some ways she was still the same Lotte, but more of the real person was coming out. Her spontaneity and joy of life, her poetic descriptions and optimistic attitude were all enhanced and they all rubbed off on me. It was like a nice hot bath in rose milk to be with Lotte and she was mine.

  “I miss having a lover now,” she admitted. “Since The Ruminant’s out of my life I can think about sex and not shudder and want to cross my legs at the thought anymore. What about you? Have you gotten over Verner’s death now?”

  I didn’t answer right away because it was a tough question. Of course I couldn’t be honest and say that I had never been sad, but only tremendously happy to have get rid of him. I was ready to find a man for a new project, but knew that here in Denmark I would need to be with someone for at least a year before it could all tragically end. I would have to do again what I had done only recently; go abroad and find my fun.

  “He didn’t treat me very well Lotte and there can be little grief when before there was so much pain. I really don’t miss him at all.”

  I looked at Lotte to see if my confession puzzled or offended her; I had learned what it could do to a friendship when I was honest. I’m better at listening and supporting than opening up. I tend to present a front that I’m very private and reserved when it comes to my personal life.

  Lotte didn’t really seem to notice that generally I said much less than her and that I rarely, if ever, talked about what was going on inside me. As a rule, people were just thrilled that they could be heard unconditionally and I just enjoyed listening and watching. As a spider in my web, I vigilantly observed the world around me and wait for the right prey to tumble into my arms. Observation. That’s what I did and I’m very good at it.

  “Oh Marie, I think I understand you quite well now and I’m not going to judge you. You deserved so much better than Verner and, as you’ve shown me, you seem to have been in the wrong place when you met him. Come to think of it, none of the men you have told me about has treated you lovingly; maybe we’re both just always looking in the wrong places? I am sure we will both find true love at some point; maybe we need to go abroad? I heard American men can be charming and good fun; perhaps we should do a trip to the States and go on a man hunt?”

  Well my hunt would be very different than hers. I smiled. She was so innocent in some ways, so naive about her love of life with a childlike belief that good will always win in the end. As much as I was getting to know her, I was still very curious to see what she really looked like inside. Was she made differently from me or, as I sometimes suspected and despite outward appearances, was she in fact quite similar?

  My desire to know her better wasn’t for murderous reasons. I wanted to get inside her head because I thought we might have similarities. There was a part of me that really wanted to be like her. She seemed straightforward, but had hidden depths that I was sure that others could not see. I had told her and she blushed, flattered and happy. . .but still unable to see what I could see.

  I knew that at some point I would have to let go of her and break up the friendship. Being close to someone could only generate risk because sooner or later they would probably suspect who I was.

  Part of me wanted to show Lotte genuine Marie, but the other part of me just wanted to let the friendship live in perfect ignorance, for if she properly understood me she would withdraw and perhaps even betray me.

  Maybe we could go on vacation together, not exactly man hunting, but maybe I could show her a little truth about me. I flirted with the idea and consoled myself with the fact that if she could not handle it, I could just kill her. Then, surprisingly, I felt a tightness in my chest at the thought of killing g Lotte. Then I decided that it was probably just too much coffee.

  13

  She met him at a dinner
date. This was not just a normal dinner date, but a friend from work had dragged her along to an event the friend described as ‘speed dating with food’. Lotte was one of eight people who would eat a couple of small dishes together and then the four men were replaced by new ones, moving around the room whilst the women stayed where they were; ready to share another two dishes and some supposedly stimulating conversation.

  It seemed like the first group of four were a disaster and she desperately wanted to run off with the excuse that she had a headache. Fortunately, there was also one of the other girls, who clearly found their soon-to-be erstwhile companions to be equally boring and they had sent each other pitying looks across the table. The two that had sat on either side of Lotte were judged to be particularly nauseating. One was a guy of about forty-five who could not sit right up to the table because of his huge stomach. He lisped slightly and was clearly nervous and uncertain. He didn’t have a lot to work with, Lotte had thought, but he had clearly not done anything with what he did have.

  It was probably because he didn’t have a clue how to behave; there aren’t many ‘style classes’ for men. Most would say that this is because it’s not needed, thought Lotte as she sipped her wine and stared at a spot on the wall. Men are either completely sure that they are God’s gift to women or totally oblivious to the fact that it’s possible to do something about it. Perhaps they are too ashamed to go to a place and meet other losers mused Lotte; these guys clearly didn’t know how to make an effort.

  After the girl opposite had raised her eyebrows in Lotte’s direction following another inane comment by a man next to her with what was clearly a wig, Lotte decided she didn’t care because she was never going to see these men again, thank God. The fat man apologized all the time when his elbow touched hers; which because of his stomach was often. His cheeks looked like a hamster’s and she could see the food being pushed around in there, as if to send it around in your mouth helped digestion. From The Ruminant to The Hamster; what I have I done to deserve this?

  His eyes were small and forever blinking and she even imagined how he would be in bed. Shaking, insecure, panting and perhaps even trying to withhold his excitement. He’d be apologetic and constantly wary of her every move. When he entered her, if his prick was big enough to get past his stomach, he would look as if he felt that he did not deserve it and his eyes would be closed and he’d rush just to get it over with. That was probably good because no woman should have to endure him, a fat hamster, fucking you longer than necessary.

  Perhaps she was being wildly unfair and maybe he was a tantric sex guru and just did not know how to show it. Perhaps she should ask? Just ask everyone at the table if they’d had any experience with tantric sex. Lotte almost blushed at the thought and pushed it to one side. What would they think of her if she brought such a topic to the table? Now they were talking about the resale value of different brands; so fucking boring.

  Seemingly lost in a world of her own, it took Lotte a few seconds to realize that the guy on the other side of her was asking a question; a little embarrassed, she had to ask him to repeat it.

  “I asked what car such a beautiful and charming woman like you would drive. It’s probably a little convertible!”

  Lotte was completely caught off guard. It was rare that someone looked at her in that way and called her beautiful and certainly not charming. The guy had spoken quite loudly and everyone looked at her; she felt even more embarrassed. She told herself to take her time in replying and when she did she was quite pleased with her riposte.

  “I have no money you can borrow, but thanks for the flattery,” she said. He laughed loudly and mood around the table relaxed again.

  “And I have no car,” added Lotte, “I take the subway because I live in the inner city.”

  The guy was still laughing and she was not sure he had heard her explanation.

  “Not only is she beautiful and charming, she also has a great sense of humour! With that sharp a tongue I will keep my mouth shut from now on!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound hostile,” said Lotte, now feeling a little contrite. “I’m just not used to excessive flattery,” she admitted.

  “It really wasn’t exaggerated,” he said with a grin, “but it’s pleasing that you have humility and that you do not dwell on your own beauty.”

  Compliments just poured out of his mouth; it was almost too much. Lotte blushed and looked down at the table without being able to respond. He was a strange looking man, not outright ugly but he was nothing special to look at. He was not very tall and a little scrawny, almost a boy’s body but with a man’s head. His hair was very thick and so dark that it was close to black. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up during the evening and Lotte now noticed he had really nice arms. A little thin, but well-toned as if he worked out regularly. That was the one good thing about him, Lotte thought. Well two if she counted his words. Then she decided she liked his eyes too. They were blue and quite neutral, but he had a look that that was both mischievous and friendly.

  “What do you do?” he asked as the others around the table returned to their own conversations, leaving Lotte and the guy to talk to each other properly.

  “Oh I just work in an office. It’s quite boring really, but it’s a good job with some nice people.”

  “It can’t be boring all the time if you have good colleagues you can laugh with. Surely a woman with your sense of humor would make things more fun at work … or are you holding something back?”

  For a moment Lotte felt angry with him. How did he dare sit there and say that she was holding something back! But then she realized that she had not actually said that much all night, so perhaps he was right to think like that. She replied that she did not know and that it would be up to her colleagues to assess.

  He raised his glass and proposed, a little pompously, to the table that they drank a toast to not holding back.

  “Life’s too short for such restraint!” he said as the others half-heartedly raised their glasses and mumbled something that might or might not have been to do with not holding back. The girl opposite Lotte gave her a look that was filled with pity; it was clear that she thought the guy was a complete jerk.

  The next dish arrived and they all ate in silence for a few minutes, but Lotte could sense that the guy next to her was looking at her even more. He tried several times to catch her eye and give her a smile. She was alternately embarrassed by all the attention and flattered by it. He actually had a nice smile, she decided. As if he would just take her hand, it would make her feel happier.

  It turned out that his name was Lars and he was forty-three; he worked as an IT engineer in an international company. He had no children and when they touched upon the subject, he said that he really had no burning desire to have children, but if he met the right woman and she was dying to have children, maybe he could be persuaded. Lotte caught herself considering whether she would want to have children with him or if she might be too old or indolent. Then she laughed a little at herself. There must have been something about him that interested her since she sat there and thought about having children with him; she’d known him for a little less an hour.

  They talked about hobbies and found out that they both liked theater. Lars said that he had two tickets to the Royal and no one to accompany him; would she like to go? Lars seemed to feel that he needed to quantify what he’d suggested and said that it did not have to be a date, only two theater lovers sharing their interest. He asked her to think about it, but not for long, for he was sure he would be replaced with another man as they were getting close to the next course and he would be moving on around the restaurant.

  “But I seriously doubt that the evening can get any better now. It’s been so nice talking to you, Lotte.”

  Lotte blushed and admitted that she’d had a good time as well. He gave her his card and asked her to call him when she had thought about the offer
of the ticket. She simply nodded. As he stood to leave the table he whispered in her ear that she at least had to give him a theatrical evening even if it never went any further. She blushed again and smiled at him and then he was gone.

  The next two who sat on either side of her tried very hard to bring her into various conversations, but no matter what they said they were fobbed off with an almost terse response. The problem was that Lotte’s mood had darkened because she was annoyed, mostly with herself, that she had not just said yes when Lars offered her the theater ticket. As well as thinking the guy was kind of okay she would have liked to have gone; now it would feel totally inappropriate and embarrassing to call a stranger and ask to be taken to the theater.

  For days her thoughts circled around the small white card that Lars had given her. She had it in her bag to work every day and promised herself each day that she would call, but she just hadn’t done it. Her colleague who sat at the desk opposite Lotte noticed that something was wrong and got Lotte to admit that she had met an interesting man at a dinner. On her way back from getting coffee one afternoon, the colleague saw Lotte looking at the card yet again and snatched it from her hand and teased Lotte that she should call him and ask him to pick her up from work.

  Lotte laughed, but was still feeling a bit intimidated by the thought of calling him. The colleague held firmly onto the card and Lotte had almost become angry before she got the card back. This was only with the promise that she would actually call him before the day was over. An hour or so later her colleague went for a meeting and when she was out the door, Lotte pulled the card out of her bag again, took a deep breath and called him from her own cell phone. Immediately though she lost her courage when she heard it started ringing at the other end and hung up. Now she thought that she could say to her colleague that she had tried, but there was no answer.

  Her phone rang. Lotte flinched and looked completely terrified when she saw that the number calling her was his. She counted to ten, breathed and answered.