to them.
Cheating bastards.
A woman sat in the corner with a tall punk
fellow and another man who had his back to Bill. They were talking; the punk
fellow was taking pictures of the guy who had his back turned. Bill studied the
woman and the punker. They didn't look like a couple. He was way younger than
her. But they had dinner at the restaurant earlier in the night and seemed very
comfortable, stealing looks and looking at each other like they weren't
supposed to be together, like they were afraid to be caught. Bill could smell
an affair from far away and those two had one. The tension in the air between
them was electrifying. There was no doubt. They smelled of deceit.
I have my eye on two right
now. I might do them both this time .
You go for it. A double kill
is very rare. Did one back in '89. I can still remember the thrill. I live to
relive it.
Bill chuckled and drank the beer. A man entered
the bar and sat two stools down from Bill. He smiled and nodded. Bill smiled
back.
"How's the beer?" The man asked.
"To die for," Bill answered.
The man laughed awkwardly. Bill turned to look
at the couple again. The punker was laughing, looking at the woman who
apparently had said something funny. A chill ran down Bill’s spine. It was
disgusting. The way they looked at each other was repulsive.
What about your husband at
home, little lady ? The young boy didn't look like he
was married with children, but the woman probably was. She looked like it. It
was in her eyes, her entire body was smeared in it. The way she looked at the
boy when she talked and then looked down quickly afterwards made her look
guilty. Tormented by it.
So have you chosen? Karl asked.
I think I have.
When will you strike?
At midnight when they're all
asleep. They'll never know what hit them. It'll be a night of terror. A
punishment to fit the crime.
You're evil.
The woman laughed again. The hair rose on the
back of Bill's neck. The falseness, the dishonesty to her voice was creepy. A
woman like her deserved to die.
31
August
2012
I laughed
awkwardly at my own joke. The whole situation was a
little strange and felt clumsy. Sune and I tried hard to lighten the atmosphere
a little, but with no luck. Henrik Fenger was a strange man who seemed to be in
way too much pain to be sitting here when he should be in a hospital. He was
sweating heavily and he seemed to be bleeding too. I didn't quite know what to
say to him, but I really thought he should go to the hospital.
As we spoke and he told his story, he kept
groaning and moaning in pain. Then he found some pills in his jacket and
swallowed a couple, flushing them down with beer. I asked him several times if
we should drive him to the nearest hospital, but he refused. It felt highly
uncomfortable for both me and Sune, but the man had, after all, the right to
decide not to go. It was a very strange situation and an even weirder
interview. The man seemed so uncomfortable and, every now and then, he would
yell at me and hit his fist on the table holding our drinks. I started
wondering if he was really well. Not just physically. He seemed to have a huge
amount of anger trapped inside of him. It made him a little scary.
"So how did you feel when you heard about
the second case in Hasle?" I asked.
Henrik Fenger froze in the middle of drinking.
He put the glass down very hard on the table. "The what?" He asked.
I looked at Sune, then back at Henrik Fenger.
"You didn't hear about the man who was killed at a hotel in Hasle?"
Henrik Fenger looked confused. "What?"
"It was very similar to your story, except
he didn't survive," I continued. "His liver was removed and he died
overnight. The cleaning lady found him covered in ice just like you were."
"But …" Henrik Fenger stared at me
like there was something really wrong with me. "You say he died?"
I nodded and drank from my wine. I looked up at
the bar. It was strange. I kept having the feeling that someone was watching
me. Maybe it was just the
Cheating bastards.
A woman sat in the corner with a tall punk
fellow and another man who had his back to Bill. They were talking; the punk
fellow was taking pictures of the guy who had his back turned. Bill studied the
woman and the punker. They didn't look like a couple. He was way younger than
her. But they had dinner at the restaurant earlier in the night and seemed very
comfortable, stealing looks and looking at each other like they weren't
supposed to be together, like they were afraid to be caught. Bill could smell
an affair from far away and those two had one. The tension in the air between
them was electrifying. There was no doubt. They smelled of deceit.
I have my eye on two right
now. I might do them both this time .
You go for it. A double kill
is very rare. Did one back in '89. I can still remember the thrill. I live to
relive it.
Bill chuckled and drank the beer. A man entered
the bar and sat two stools down from Bill. He smiled and nodded. Bill smiled
back.
"How's the beer?" The man asked.
"To die for," Bill answered.
The man laughed awkwardly. Bill turned to look
at the couple again. The punker was laughing, looking at the woman who
apparently had said something funny. A chill ran down Bill’s spine. It was
disgusting. The way they looked at each other was repulsive.
What about your husband at
home, little lady ? The young boy didn't look like he
was married with children, but the woman probably was. She looked like it. It
was in her eyes, her entire body was smeared in it. The way she looked at the
boy when she talked and then looked down quickly afterwards made her look
guilty. Tormented by it.
So have you chosen? Karl asked.
I think I have.
When will you strike?
At midnight when they're all
asleep. They'll never know what hit them. It'll be a night of terror. A
punishment to fit the crime.
You're evil.
The woman laughed again. The hair rose on the
back of Bill's neck. The falseness, the dishonesty to her voice was creepy. A
woman like her deserved to die.
31
August
2012
I laughed
awkwardly at my own joke. The whole situation was a
little strange and felt clumsy. Sune and I tried hard to lighten the atmosphere
a little, but with no luck. Henrik Fenger was a strange man who seemed to be in
way too much pain to be sitting here when he should be in a hospital. He was
sweating heavily and he seemed to be bleeding too. I didn't quite know what to
say to him, but I really thought he should go to the hospital.
As we spoke and he told his story, he kept
groaning and moaning in pain. Then he found some pills in his jacket and
swallowed a couple, flushing them down with beer. I asked him several times if
we should drive him to the nearest hospital, but he refused. It felt highly
uncomfortable for both me and Sune, but the man had, after all, the right to
decide not to go. It was a very strange situation and an even weirder
interview. The man seemed so uncomfortable and, every now and then, he would
yell at me and hit his fist on the table holding our drinks. I started
wondering if he was really well. Not just physically. He seemed to have a huge
amount of anger trapped inside of him. It made him a little scary.
"So how did you feel when you heard about
the second case in Hasle?" I asked.
Henrik Fenger froze in the middle of drinking.
He put the glass down very hard on the table. "The what?" He asked.
I looked at Sune, then back at Henrik Fenger.
"You didn't hear about the man who was killed at a hotel in Hasle?"
Henrik Fenger looked confused. "What?"
"It was very similar to your story, except
he didn't survive," I continued. "His liver was removed and he died
overnight. The cleaning lady found him covered in ice just like you were."
"But …" Henrik Fenger stared at me
like there was something really wrong with me. "You say he died?"
I nodded and drank from my wine. I looked up at
the bar. It was strange. I kept having the feeling that someone was watching
me. Maybe it was just the
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