Woman of the Dead (24 page)

Blum remembers everything she knows about the clown. Dunya told her he was the worst, the most sadistic, the most violent. He had joined about a year after it started, and his arrival made the cellar an even more brutal place. Four tormentors became five. And Dunya was more afraid of him than of the others. Massimo, the kindly police officer, the helpful family friend, Blum’s admirer, the unhappy husband – no one would ever have thought that he could beat and rape a pregnant woman until she was about to lose her baby and die of pain. Dunya had told them, first Mark and then Blum, how he punched Ilena in the stomach with his fist again and again, punching the child, perhaps even his own. Every last detail had been recorded on Mark’s phone. The clown humiliated and beat them. Sometimes he didn’t rape them, he just beat them, laughing crazily, a man out of control. He would take Dunya’s head and slam it on the floor when she didn’t go along with what he wanted or give him a smile.
Give me a smile, slut. I said you have to give me a smile. Do you think you’re too good for me?
He would take her by the hair and smash her head on the plush red carpet, until Dunya would lose consciousness and he would walk away.

Massimo, the kindly soul, the man who upheld the law. He spent nights on end in the garage with Mark, drinking beer, slapping him on the back, relaxing after work. Blum still couldn’t comprehend why Massimo had sought the company of Jaunig, Schönborn and Puch. And Ludwig. Why he had gone off to a cellar with those men, how he could have been capable of those things.

The filthy bastard.
Blum couldn’t call him anything else. The epithet kept rising to her lips, while Maya’s friend the lazy bee Willy was sucking up honey on the screen. While Uma and Nela giggled and nestled close to her.
Filthy bastard. Massimo. I’ll see you dead if it’s the last thing I do.

Slowly she opens her eyes. Very slowly, because she knows what is coming. She doesn’t want to see what’s there but she can smell it and hear it. The disinfectant, the sound of the cooling unit, the buzzing of the old neon tube above her head to the left, the hoist they use to lift corpses into coffins. Blum knows exactly where she is. She doesn’t know how she got there, but she knows she is in the preparation room. She knows that someone has knocked her out, undressed her and tied her to the table. The aluminium is cold against her skin. She tries to reconstruct what has happened and work out what is going to happen next. She can move only her head. She turns it one way then the other, looking around for help. She tries to scream, but all she hears is groaning; her lips are covered in tape. She doesn’t want to take it in; doesn’t want to see him there beside her.

It is Reza’s blood on the table, pooling round his headless torso. Reza is dead, Reza can no longer help her. Only flesh remains. She thinks of the last thing he said. He was still embracing her, their hands had touched. Now Reza’s limbs are strewn on the floor. He has done to Reza what she did to others, he has mimicked her. Blum screams but no one can hear her from under the sticky tape. She tosses her head back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of him, but she can’t. If he’s in the room she should be able to hear him, but silence reigns. He’s in the house, she knows it, he’s waiting for her to wake. He’s with the children, with Karl. Blum pictures what he is doing to them. She tries to break free, she can’t bear the thought, she must protect her little angels. This can’t be happening. She hears him. He is in the room. He is getting up from his chair and coming towards her.

His footsteps approach; the sound of his breathing comes closer. He is taking his time; he wants to torment her, wants to make her suffer. He stops, pausing to watch her ribcage rise and fall. He is toying with her, listening to her heart beat faster and faster, seeing her wrists twitch as her fingers try to find an escape. Blum is naked on the table, her skin and breasts exposed. How long has she been lying here, Blum wonders, how long has he been staring at her? What has he done to her while she’s been asleep? He has taken off her clothes, cut them from her body. Perhaps he has packed them up like a present. Every thought hurts now she is at his mercy, now she is no longer at the helm. The boat is drifting on a shark-infested sea.

Blum knows she is going to die. Her mind has reached a still point, she is submitting to what will happen next. She no longer tries to escape, she just lies there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think of the children. She won’t, she can’t. The children are OK, he won’t hurt the children. There’s only the buzz of the cooling unit, the hum of the neon tubes, the white of the ceiling, and her memories. Never mind what’s coming, never mind what happens to her, she will think of the good times. She will think of Mark, his hands on her belly just before Uma was born.

‘I’m afraid, Mark.’

‘What of?’

‘Of what’s inside me.’

‘There’s nothing to fear. We’re in this together, Blum. Nothing bad will happen.’

‘But everything’s about to change.’

‘Change is good.’

‘Why?’

‘When winter is over the trees turn green.’

It does her good to think of Mark, of what he said and how he looked at her four and a half years ago.
The trees turn green
. And how he kissed her. Never mind what happens next. Mark is beside her, very close. Never mind what happens, he holds her in his arms.

She looks away, to the ceiling, because he is coming closer now. The broad grin looms over her, the brightly coloured plastic mouth. Only his eyes say she reacted too slowly, that the tables have been turned. Massimo is two eyes and a mask. He has won. She sees him approach, whispering softly, just loud enough for her to hear.
None of this had to happen, Blum. None of it, do you understand? Everything would have been all right. We could have been together
. There’s just her fear and his familiar voice as he bids her farewell, almost lovingly, as he tells her it is over. He loved her, he says, he would have done anything for her. She watches as he removes the mask and takes her face firmly in his hands. For twenty long seconds, he presses his lips on to the tape that covers her lips. Then he stabs her. Blum does not move.

Blum has spent all night here on the preparation table, not moving but breathing. Her ribcage rises and falls and her eyes are open wide. She has spent a night imagining what he might do to her, tormenting herself. She spent the afternoon with the children, ate supper with them and Reza, then she came down here, locked the door and lay down with her thoughts. She imagined the worst: Massimo twisting the knife into her, dissecting Reza. What it would be like, what he would do to her: a nightmare that will come true if she doesn’t act at once. She can’t wait any longer, she can’t risk it. She doesn’t want to find out what he knows and what he doesn’t know. She can’t give him the chance to investigate, to become suspicious of Reza. She must end it all before his lips come down on hers. Blum will have to call him and arrange a meeting. She will speak to him as soon as it is light in two hours’ time. She must keep the upper hand, strike before he can. She and Reza will move faster or else they will both die.

For hours she has been lying there with the naked body of an old woman on the preparation table beside her. She must see to the old woman first. As she pushes cotton wool into the woman’s nostrils, as she washes and blow-dries her hair, as she cleans the dirt from under her fingernails, Blum considers how she will dispatch Massimo. She doesn’t want him to die painlessly; she wants to punish and execute him. In her mind she searches for a place where she can dispose of him, because she doesn’t want him to set foot in her house again. There must be an alternative. As she stitches up the old woman’s mouth she plans Massimo’s death. She will discuss it with Reza over breakfast; together they will find a way. They will put the old woman in her coffin and wait for her family, and then they will wait for evening. Blum will read the girls a bedtime story and kiss them goodnight. She will make sure that they are safe. She’ll do anything for that. And that is why she calls Massimo’s number once it is morning. She breathes deeply in and out three times. Then she hears his voice. Friendly, eager.

‘Blum, how good to hear from you.’

‘And you.’

‘I didn’t expect you to call so soon.’

‘I said I’d like to see you.’

‘When?’

‘Well, I’d like to see you straight away, but I have work to do. And then there are the children. Shall we meet this evening? Are you free?’

‘For you, always.’

‘I’d like to be alone with you.’

‘I’m glad to hear that, Blum.’

‘But where? I wouldn’t want the children to find you in my bed.’

‘Come round to mine.’

‘But what about Ute?’

‘She’s not here.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Away.’

‘What do you mean? Away where?’

‘My wife drank two bottles of schnapps then tried to kill herself.’

‘Oh, when?’

‘A week ago.’

‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘It wouldn’t have changed anything.’

‘What happened?’

‘She cut her wrists in the bath.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘In a psychiatric hospital.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘And when is she coming home?’

‘No one knows.’

‘We can put it off, Massimo. I understand if you’d rather be alone now.’

‘No, come and see me this evening.’

‘About nine?’

‘You’re making me very happy, Blum.’

‘Kisses to you, and see you later.’

She had to grit her teeth to say those things; she hates herself for every word she said to lead him on. She throws her phone at the wall with all her might and it crashes to the floor. Then she suppresses a scream. She doesn’t want anyone to hear her; she just wants this to stop, for Massimo’s heart to stop. Good old Massimo.

She wants him to be as lively as the woman on the table in front of her. Blum has dressed her brightly, in the traditional Austrian way: a white blouse, an apron, a pearl necklace, her hair braided into a wreath. Blum has manipulated her lips into a smile. She remembers how close Mark and Massimo were. She doesn’t want him suspecting, not for a moment, that anything is wrong, that nothing more is on the agenda than a little bit of fucking in the marital bed. On the dining table, in the bathtub where Ute almost bled to death, never mind where. All he wants is to get his prick into silly little Blum. She is the ultimate conquest, his best friend’s wife. She senses how much he wants her.
You’re making me very happy.
The bastard.

There is no going back. She considers the chances of being seen, of dying, of spending the rest of her life behind bars. She can’t rule out any of those possibilities, but still, they won’t deter her. They are doing the right thing; Blum is convinced, and so is Reza. He will do whatever it takes, for Mark and for Blum. He is lying under a rug in the back, waiting for the vehicle to stop. Blum is driving straight to Massimo’s house in the hearse. Not the Cadillac, the minibus. They don’t want to attract attention. There is a coffin in the back, the cheapest they have.

She drives slowly to the housing estate on the outskirts of the city. Ute and Massimo had a new house built here just under seven years ago, back when everything seemed all right. Ute hadn’t taken to the bottle, they believed that the trampoline in their garden would be used, that they had a future together. Mark and Blum had been here so often for barbecues, she remembers the cheerful summer evenings they spent at their friends’ home. Ute had insisted on green paint, so it stands out from the others. The garage is open. Blum has called him again and asked him to leave the gate unlocked. She said she didn’t want to be seen visiting, not after what happened to Ute. She doesn’t want people to talk. She turns off the engine and closes the gate from inside. Reza will stay in the vehicle until Blum is in the house and Massimo is in her arms. Then he will get out, go quietly up to the house and hit him over the head with an iron bar. Once he is unconscious on the floor, they will tie him up with sticky tape, gag him, and put him in the coffin. Then they will wind blankets around him, and more tape around the coffin, to make sure there is no chance of escape.

Her doubts and fears surge back. Massimo is a police officer, it is his job to be suspicious. Perhaps he has suspected that she won’t come alone, that Reza might be with her. What if he meets her with a gun in his hand? What if he hears Reza approach? What if he pulls away from Blum and avoids Reza’s blow? Blum pictures it all: the iron bar flying through the air, Massimo fighting back, overpowering Reza.

Blum opens the door. She mustn’t think like this. Down a small corridor she goes and straight into the house. She calls his name; she is afraid, she can hear her heart thudding. She hears her heart and then his voice, coming from the kitchen.
Come on in. I’ve got us a nice bottle of red.
He stands in front of her, looking innocent, just a man with a bottle in his hand and the corkscrew he has used to open it. He fills two glasses while Blum stands in the doorway, smiling. She forces herself to walk over and embrace him, to kiss him on the neck. She is giving herself time; he mustn’t suspect a thing. Tenderly, she puts her lips to his filthy skin.
It’s lovely to be alone, just the two of us
, she whispers, turning her head. She doesn’t want this intimacy to last a second longer but she must run no risks. She scans the room for any sign of danger, anything that looks out of place. She examines his face, too, looks into his eyes and does not turn her own away. There is still time for her to run. But the face which looks back at her is the face of Mark’s best friend, not that of a crazed man in a mask. Everything is all right for now.

Massimo goes ahead into the living room and Blum follows. She must get him to put some music on, otherwise he’ll hear the door open and Reza come into the room. She says it would put her in the mood, music and candlelight. Then she takes off her jacket and throws it aside. Massimo presses a button.
Louder
, Blum says, drawing him away from the door into the middle of the room, leading him by the hand, making him turn. Not for a moment does he seem to suspect anything untoward. Massimo is just looking at her, wanting her, touching her. He puts out a hand to caress her cheek, and steps back for a moment; he wants to see her face.
You’re so beautiful
, he says. Then he draws her close again. His head is very near hers; she is putting off the moment when she will have to kiss him, she will not kiss him until she sees Reza stealing into the room. She must delay Massimo until she is sure that Reza is there to get his tongue out of her mouth. Not much longer. They dance around the room, drinking each other in. See how he nuzzles her, see how he wants her. See Blum counting the seconds and thinking that they mustn’t leave any traces behind, no blood, nothing to tell Massimo’s colleagues that this is a crime scene. They will not suspect that a policeman has been knocked out and abducted; Massimo will simply collapse on the floor. Now.