Chapter 6
Kjell
The door on the floor below me opens. I hear the scraping sound, followed by the click-clack of high heels on linoleum.
It's her.
I grip my camera bag, lean over the stair railing, and spot her red locks. She totters on her high heels toward the elevator, pressing the call button.
As soon as the elevator doors close behind her, I grit my teeth and hobble down to the ground floor. When I arrive there, I catch a glimpse of the woman leaving the hospital through the main entrance.
I follow her into the dark night as inconspicuously as possible. I've observed people before, but this time it feels different.
Perhaps it's because of how drained she appears. Head bowed, she walks along the sidewalk. Each of her countless heavy sighs produces a small cloud of breath in front of her mouth. She plays the role of a helpless woman so perfectly that I would believe it if I were seeing her for the first time today. But even if I don't know her name, I know her character.
I know who she truly is.
Two blocks later, something lights up in her hand. A mobile phone. She's making a call, and that could be important. I need to get closer, so I quicken my pace.
"Hej," she says wearily. "Thank you for arranging the conversation with the doctor."
She spoke with a doctor? That can only mean one thing: the redhead knows what's going on with this Blohm.
I continue to close in, determined not to miss anything.
"It doesn't look good. He..." A city bus roars past me. "Tomorrow," is the next thing I hear, and that's despite the fact that only a few yards now separate us.
If her high heels didn't clatter so loudly, she would have surely heard me by now. If I close the distance any farther, I might risk blowing my cover. Is it worth it? For a gossip article I'd rather not write in the first place?
God, I hate this assignment.
"Listen, Lil, I've been thinking." She clears her throat. "Let me... Yes, I know... Nevertheless..." She abruptly stops under the glow of a wrought-iron streetlamp. It's bright enough for me to see her clench her fist. "Stop it," she snaps at this Lil, the same person she spoke with on the phone when we collided at the hospital entrance.
Ah, there she is again. The arrogant cow from back then who believes the entire world belongs to her. That performance earlier was all an act, nothing more. And I almost believed it...
At least it's something to hold on to. Because if this were a smear article about someone else, I don't know if I could bear it. The memory of how she used to treat me makes it slightly easier to endure, if only a little.
"He won't be back anytime soon. And until he does, I'll take over his job." Her voice is firm, almost threatening. She raises her head as if to look at the sky and turns halfway around. A sigh escapes her lips. I quickly jump behind one of the bushes next to the sidewalk. Now, at the beginning of winter, the bush consists only of bare branches. If the redhead turns around any farther, she'll spot me.
She moves again.
Dammit. I crouch down as low as I can.
"You know I have to do this," she says, feigning compliance. "Yes, I've been gone a long time—far too long. But please, Lil, understand this. He's still my father."
What? The redhead is Blohm's daughter?
Wow.
Why didn't I find anything about a daughter in my research? Is she an illegitimate child?
Oh man. What a bombshell!
Long-lost daughter takes control of the fashion empire Touch av lyx.
The story is probably exactly what Jakob wants from me. But it's incomplete because a thousand questions remain unanswered. Why was she gone for so long? How long exactly was it? And where has she been?
"I love him," she says.
What a load of crap. If she loved her father, she wouldn't have stayed away for so long. That's for sure. Still, my emotions spiral out of control again as this way-too-attractive woman begins to cry bitterly just a few yards away from me.
An insane part of me wants to comfort her.
No!
She's an illusion. A liar.
Yet I'm running the risk of falling for her ruse again. Damn, what's wrong with me?
She clears her throat. "He wanted to go to Milan, so I'll fly there tomorrow... Are you coming?" she asks with a hoarse voice. "Okay, I understand." Now she sounds sad, but she straightens her shoulders. "Is the jet still available?" She bites her lip.
My best lead is about to leave Stockholm. I need to do something about it. But I can't force her to stay here. Maybe it would be easier to tail her. But how?
"Why isn't the photographer there?" She nods with a furrowed brow. "From the usual agency? All right, he should come along. Then at ten o'clock. S?derberg is his name, you said?" the redhead asks.
Bingo.
"I'll be there soon, by the way. Would you come by with the key?" She nervously fiddles with her jacket. "Thank you, I appreciate it."
I need to be careful not to let out a mocking groan.
As if she would appreciate anything. It's almost a miracle that she even knows the word thank you . Back in Polarnatt , I never heard her say it even once. Instead, she snapped at me when I served drinks. No matter how busy the club was, I was never fast enough for her.
"Shit, what's taking so long?" she shouts over the thundering bass from the speakers in my memory. "Give it here, I'll drink from the bottle. By the time you pour, I'll have died of thirst." She rolls her eyes, puts the vodka bottle to her lips, and sucks on it as if she's been in the desert all day. Her movements in the bright white light seem jerky.
"Why are you standing around like an idiot?" the guy with the gel-slicked hair chimes in, spreading his arms wide as he sits on the sofa. "Bring more, and hurry up. My babe needs more, can't you see that?"
I actually see that his babe has had enough long ago. "Coming right up," I reply even though nothing else makes sense.
I collect the empty glasses, shaking my head. Then I reach for the microfiber cloth, the end of which dangles loosely from my pocket, and I swing it through the air before using it to wipe the table dry for the hundredth time that evening.
As soon as I finish cleaning, the obnoxious woman slams the vodka bottle onto the table so haphazardly that it topples over. "Oooops," she slurs and stumbles into her lover's arms. Despite the darkness, I can see in her face that she feels no shame for her behavior. On the contrary, she thinks she's pretty cool.
Mr. Gel-hair kisses her passionately. "Did you see that, babe? How the server just spilled your vodka? What a clumsy oaf."
The two of them burst into laughter.
"Very funny," I comment dryly and turn around on the spot. I need to get away from here quickly; after all, I know from experience how this ends otherwise.
"Hey, come back. You still have to clean up," someone yells after me, but I ignore it. It's better to watch where I step so they don't have another reason to laugh at me.
I'm so lost in my memory that I only notice at the last moment that the redhead is moving again. She has put her phone away by now.
Quickly, I step out from behind the bare bush and start following her. Each time she steps fully into the light of a streetlamp, it seems as if her body tenses up more. After about twenty minutes, she's so stiff that her legs seem like wooden sticks. Nevertheless, her steps become increasingly faster.
Has she noticed me?
To be safe, I hang back far enough to see her stop at a palatial old building where another woman waits for her. She hands something to the redhead.
That must be this Lil.
I take my camera out of my bag and observe the two through the magnifying lens.
Their greeting doesn't seem very warm. They barely speak to each other; this Lil is constantly shaking her head. I zoom in as much as possible and take several shots. Lil appears to be the same age as the redhead. Her face is mostly hidden by a scarf, and her eyes seem emotionless.
Once the handover is done, Lil rushes away as if she were fleeing from a herd of lions. Blohm's daughter slips through the wrought-iron gate onto the property.
As soon as the gate clicks shut, she starts gently swaying back and forth. It's as if she's seeking peace in the dancing movement, turning first one way and then the other. It's too dark to see her face, but I watch as the tension gradually leaves her body.
Her movements become more graceful, flowing and elegant.
I catch myself getting lost in this sight. Even the voice inside me that should be labeling her as crazy is silent in the face of the effect she has on me.
She's beautiful.
And for a moment, I even imagine that I see something deeply vulnerable in her, something that surely doesn't exist.