Itsy Bitsy Spider (Emma Frost #1) (11 page)

Victor stayed
home from
school the next day. Not so much because he
was in pain, more because I wanted to spend more time with him and I used the
bad ankle as an excuse.

I pulled out our old puzzles that he used to
enjoy making and for hours we decorated the kitchen table with it. It was nice
to just hang out with him, but I couldn't get my mind off the two killings. I
kept wondering what the two women had in common. Why did the killer choose
these two and not someone else? They seemed very different as types. Mrs.
Heinrichsen was old-fashioned, uptight as far as I knew, a woman of Home
Mission, known as one of the most strict religious sects in our country. And
Irene Justesen. Well that was a completely different story, wasn't it? All they
had in common was that they both were pretty old. But maybe that was all they
needed? Maybe the killer targeted old women because they were easy subjects,
because they weren't going to offer much resistance. Maybe he had some sort of
mother complex, making him want to hurt women?

What else did they have in common? Oh yes. They
were both extremely wealthy. Maybe that counted as a factor as well. Did he
steal anything? Not according to the police reports, but then why? What did he
get out of killing these old rich ladies?

I was blank for ideas. The only thing I kept
thinking was that if only I knew them both better, it would make it easier to
write about them and maybe find the parallels. Did they know each other from
somewhere?

Before I knew it I had put Victor in the car and
was driving through town, towards the town's only church. It was situated on a
small street with lots of other houses, behind a small fence and the cemetery
surrounding it. I took Victor with me, since he walked fine on his own again.
We didn't speak as we walked up towards the main entrance. It was a white
painted wooden door in the middle of the red bricks. The black roof seemed
pretty new and all in all it looked very well maintained even if it was from
1786.

"It'll only be a couple of minutes," I
told Victor when I opened the door and we entered the old church. It was empty
and I could hear the echo of my feet walking across the tiles.

"Wow," I said. "It's
beautiful."

The church was decorated with old wooden ships
hanging on strings from under the roof.

"Fanoe is a maritime island," a voice
said behind me. I turned and saw a man, a pastor standing behind me in his
black robe and white collar. "They are models of real old frigates. Some
of these wooden ships are more than a hundred years old."

"They are beautiful," I said and
pointed at one to get Victor to look at it. "Look at the details Victor.
Even the cannons. Look at those."

But Victor didn't look at it. Instead he
whimpered and grabbed my hand. I stared down at him while he clung to my leg
and looked at the pastor. I stroked his hair gently wondering why he was so
scared all of a sudden. But I also enjoyed the closeness that these last days
had given me. I had to treasure them since I didn't know how long it was going
to last before Victor went back to being his old untouchable self.

"You are new to the island?" The
pastor said and smiled at Victor. "Tourists?"

"No. We inherited a house here in town.
Mrs. Frost's old house, after she passed away."

The pastor changed facial expression. "Ah,
I see. Don't think I remember you from the funeral."

Victor clenched my hand as the pastor smiled at
him again. "No," I said. "We weren't there. I am her
grandchild."

I wanted to explain to him that for some reason
my dad didn't tell me about the death of his mother, my grandmother and the
funeral before it was too late, but somehow it wasn't something I wanted people
to know. Mainly because I never quite understood what had happened between the
two of them. Why they lost contact or why my dad kept me away from her for all
of my life. It was something I needed to ask him about next time I was alone
with him again. I knew it bothered him that I had inherited the house and
especially that I had moved here, back to where he had grown up. But he never
told me why. I was getting increasingly curious.

"Oh well, that makes sense," the
pastor said. "Although I don't believe your grandmother has talked about
you much."

"I only met her once, when I was four or
so. My dad and she were never close, I guess."

 I paused and looked at the beautiful
church. Victor still clenched my hand. I had no idea what was going on with
him.

"So did you know my grandmother?" I
asked.

"I did," the pastor said. "She
was a very important contributor to this church. Member of the parish council
as well."

"She was? I didn't know that." I
didn't even know my dad had been brought up with any religion at all, but then
again I didn't know much about my dad's childhood. He never shared much about
it.

"Oh yes. A very important member. We were
very sad to see her go."

I nodded. "And then you lost Mrs.
Heinrichsen recently," I said getting back to the reason I had come in the
first place. To get to know more about Mrs. Heinrichsen.

"Yes. Very sad. A huge loss to the
community and to this church of course."

"I can imagine," I said wondering how
I was going to be able to ask more questions without him finding it suspicious.

"And yesterday with Irene Justesen. What a
horrible story."

The pastor looked at me startled. "Well,
yes."

"Was she in this church as well? Did she
come here?"

The pastor shook his head. "Not anymore.
Not for many years."

"But she used to?"

The pastor sighed. "Yes she did. But she
left the church at the time when she started her new business. I guess she
couldn't quite do all those things and still maintain a good Christian life.
The love of money is a root to all kinds of evil, you know."

Was she also a member of the parish
council?"

The pastor sighed. "Yes, she was."

"Did she leave voluntarily?"

"That is between her and God. Look I have
somewhere to be by now. Did you come here to look at the church or are you
interested in coming to our services, then it's at ten on Sunday."

"Oh. No. I came here because I'm writing a
book about the two killings here on the island."

The pastor smiled forced. "Do you really
think that's such a great idea?"

"Excuse me?"

"Out here we mind our own business. I don't
think you should be running around asking too many questions, my dear child.
You might get yourself into trouble."

I was startled. "Is that a threat?"

The pastor laughed. It was not a nice laughter.
It was condescending. I didn't like that one bit.

"No. Consider it a piece of good advice.
Nothing good ever came from putting your nose where it doesn't belong. Now if
you'll excuse me I have to go."

The pastor nodded and left. Victor's hand
relaxed in mine as soon as he was gone. I hadn't realized until now that he was
whimpering. "What's wrong buddy?" I asked.

"Spiders," he said. "The spiders
are coming."

I turned to look but didn't see any. "There
are no spiders here, Vic. What are you talking about? Victor. You're shaking?
What's going on?"

"Take me out of here," he whispered.
"Take me out of here now before the spiders get me."

Victor had a
fever
and was burning up by the time we got back to
the house.

"Mommy, I feel so tired," he said with
glassy eyes.

I felt his forehead. It wasn't good. I took his
temperature and gave him something for the fever. I put him on the couch in the
living room and turned on the TV.

I sat next to him with my laptop on my knees. I
wrote down what the pastor had told me today. About Irene Justesen that used to
be a part of the church and so on. At least I had found some sort of connection
now between the two of them. They were both members of the church, of the
parish council, but at some point Irene Justesen had left the church. The
question was when did she leave the church and even more important why? Could
it simply be because of her career? I wondered who could give me more insight
to how things worked in that church. At first I thought of Sophia, but I had a
feeling she had already told me everything she knew. She was a newcomer like me
and had never been a part of all that. I needed someone who had been on the
inside and didn't mind talking about it.

"Mommy, my back hurts," Victor
suddenly said.

I looked up from the screen. I put the computer
down and lifted up Victor's shirt to better look.

"Oh my god, Victor. Your entire back is
covered in red blisters. How did that happen?"

Victor coughed weakly. "I don't know,
Mommy. It was itching all night."

"We need to get you to a doctor. It looks
like some of them are infected."

I put Victor in the car and drove him down to
the island's only doctor. He had his clinic in his own house, a beautiful old
red brick villa in the middle of town. I had called in advance and his
secretary told us we could come in right away.

There were no other patients in the waiting room
and we didn't have to wait long before doctor Williamsen called us in.

He was a small chubby man with a nice smile.
"So how can I help you two? Something about a rash on your back?" he
said when we entered.

"There are a few on his arm as well. But
it's worse on the back." I said worried.

I helped Victor pull his shirt off. Doctor
Williamsen walked closer and examined them. Victor froze when he touched him.
The doctor noticed right away.

"He has trouble with letting people touch
him," I explained. "His former doctor called it a light autism. He
gets anxiety attacks from time to time."

Doctor Williamsen smiled and tilted his head.
"Are you okay there, buddy?" he asked. "Is it okay if I touch
your back?"

Victor hesitated, then nodded.

"Alright. I promise to be careful. I won't
hurt."

"Doctors always say that before they hurt
you," Victor said.

"Smart kid, huh? Been to a lot of doctors,
have you?" Doctor Williamsen said while studying Victor's back.

"Enough," he answered.

"I bet you have." Doctor Williamsen
pulled away. "You can put your shirt back on." The doctor sat down
behind his desk and took out a prescription pad. "I'm going to give you
something to put on those blisters, twice a day. Do it in the morning and in
the evening before you go to bed. That should help the infection."

"So it is infected?" I asked.

The doctor nodded. "He has been scratching
them and they have a small infection. That's why he has the fever. " The
doctor kept writing on his pad.

"So what is it? What caused it?"

"Oh that? That's insect bites. We get a lot
of that on this island. Has he been playing a lot in your yard?"

"Yes. He loves to play out there. He likes
trees." I answered.

"Well there you have it. He has at some
point gotten too close to a bunch of insects of some sort and they have bitten
him. He's not allergic to bees or anything is he?"

"No. Not that I know of."

"Okay, then he should be fine."

"So would you advise me to keep him out of
the yard? It gives him so much joy to play back there. It helps him mentally
too. He has made a lot of progress since we got here, and I believe it's
because of the yard."

"I see. Well keep him inside for a few
days, until the infection is gone and then I see no harm in letting him play
out there again. Just tell him to watch out for bugs and don't roll around on
the ground. Then he'll be fine. It is after all fall and the bugs will be gone
soon."

"I guess he must have gotten the bites
yesterday when he fell in the yard and couldn't get up," I said and looked
at Victor. As usual he didn't look at any of us, but studied some plastic
skeleton that the doctor had in the corner. "He hurt his ankle and
couldn't get up on his own. Is that when you got those bug bites, Victor? Is
it?" I asked addressed to my son.

But Victor wasn't present anymore. He had gone
into some sort of world of his own like he often did and now he was humming a
song while staring at the skeleton.

"It must have been," the doctor said.
He smiled and handed me the prescription. "Welcome to Fanoe Island, by the
way, I hope you'll like it here," he said as we left.