Never Trust a Callboy (17 page)

"Why do you need help?" he asks the question that I have been waiting for. Luckily I prepared a response while in the taxi, one which I hope will secure his help.

Instead of a reply, I put a thousand euros on the table. Without stirring, he looks at the money. You'd think he’d never seen two five hundred euro notes.

"I need shelter for a few days. Not for long, just a couple of nights. That's all. You don’t have to do anything else. No other services."

Christian is eying me penetratingly. I shuffle uneasily in my chair, I feel as if he can see right through me. As if he could see all of my many secrets. I hope he doesn’t notice that nothing in my life is as it should be. I try a smile, but quickly give up, because my hands start to tremble, and my smile is threatening to turn into a sob. Quickly, I look away. I look around the kitchen, and examine the fridge intently.

"Why don't you go to a hotel? There are hundreds of them in Frankfurt."

"I already tried that. It didn't work out."

"How about if you explain to me what’s going on?"

I had a feeling he’d want to know more, it would all have been too easy if he had taken my money without asking questions. So do I give him the truth, or the abridged version?

I tell him how Ron is having me followed, and how he keeps finding me no matter where I go, and that I have no idea how he does it.

Christian interrupts me. "Do I understand you correctly? Your husband tracks you everywhere, and you're here? With me?"

Before I can reply, he grabs my arm and pulls me up from the chair. He almost drags me along the corridor behind him as he walks down the hall to the front door.

"Wait a minute, how could they find me here? No one knows that I know you."

"And how did they find you in a hotel in Frankfurt?" Christian opens the front door, he pushes me outside, but then something happens that I had not expected. Instead of slamming the door in my face, he joins me outside. He walks around to his car, my handbag dangling in his hand.

"Come on, get in."

Christian throws the bag on my lap and slams the door shut. It’s a new, red Ferrari. How can he afford such a vehicle?

"Where are you taking me?"

Christian buckles up and turns to me. I'm getting cold. If looks could kill, I would breathe my last breath.

"Where no one can find you, not even Ron," he replies.

And then he takes off with squealing tires. The car lurches forward as he pushes on the gas racing to reach the next set of traffic lights. A red traffic light. He accelerates and I dig my fingers into my seat.

Ten meters.

Five.

Please turn green, I pray while simultaneously yelling at him: "It’s red, damn it!"

The tires screech as he comes to a halt. The car swerves, and turns. Christian turns the car to the left, slams on the gas again and shoots into a small side street.

My heart is racing, and I notice how bile is rising in my throat yet again. But something else rises up in me as well. Anger.

"What is this? You stupid fucking idiot. You want to kill me?" Angrily I punch him in the side.

"Stop that. You're insane!" He tries with one hand to ward off my shots, but I'm out of control.

"My life is a fucking nightmare! Since I found this stupid body, I haven’t had a quiet minute. And now this!" With a sharp jerk, I fly forward. The seat belt forces the air out of my lungs. Christian has finally done what I wanted him to. The car has stopped.

You can almost see smoke clouds rising from the asphalt. He turns to me and I could swear that he is at least as angry as I am. Then it occurs to me. I had forgotten that he didn't know about the small detail of the dead body.

"You... Are... Going... To... Be... The... Death... Of... Me," he growls out between clenched teeth, and then he starts the car again.

"W
hat's that?" Worried, I stare into the black water. The dim lights of the waterfront paint dark circles on the gentle waves.

"You ask too many questions and answer too few." Christian makes a hand movement clearly intended to indicate I should get out of the car. "Get out! And bring your purse."

"First tell me what we're doing."

Without answering my questions Christian opens the driver's door, and shortly after my door. "Now get out before I get really angry."

"No."

"Okay, then don't." Christian takes my bag and goes down to the waterfront. Reluctantly, I get out too. Apparently he does not intend to kill me, even if I was not so sure about that a few minutes ago. Curious, I follow him. I stop at one of the picnic tables and watch as he empties out the contents of my handbag.

"What are you doing?"

With a sigh, he looks up at me. "Is Ron psychic?"

"No."

"You see, I thought so." Christian rummages around in my stuff, which lies before him on the table. "Why do women need all this stuff?"

My knees are still trembling from the ride, and so I sit down before he notices. "Can you please tell me what we’re doing here?"

"How about if you use your brain for a few seconds?"

"I lost my last gray cells in the ride over here."

"How do you think Ron manages to find you every time?"

I’m itching to go over there and tidy everything up as I watch him push my expensive Platinum make-up collection carelessly to the side. The man has no idea what it all cost.

"I don't know. I thought at the beginning it was my credit cards, but I’ve thrown them all away after the incident at the Mainhatten. A friend said they may have tracked me through my phone, but I've changed it now. Maybe he's just lucky."

"Maybe, but there are also other methods," Christian mutters without looking up. Then he holds up a coin. Has he completely lost his mind?

"You know, what this is?" Christian puts something on the table that looks like a 1 euro coin, and pushes the rest of my stuff back in the bag.

“A euro?”

“No. This isn’t money, but rather the reason why we now have to get out of here, and quickly."

Before I can respond, he gets up and goes to the car. He’s driving me crazy, nevertheless, I follow him. I'd rather die in a Ferrari than wait to be pushed into the river by a dark figure.

"Ron planted a GPS transmitter on you. So he can track over the Internet exactly where you are right now, down to the house number," explains Christian while we rush through Frankfurt.

"Son of a bitch." A GPS transmitter. How did Ron get that in my purse? An image rises in my mind's eye. The day I was in his office. The day when Ron was surprisingly friendly, hugged me, and kissed me goodbye.

"But that was after the Mainhatten."

Christian looks at me. I'd rather he would pay attention to the road, because he is racing through the city at almost 180 kilometers per hour. "They traced me to the Mainhatten before he had the opportunity to plant it," I add as explanation.

"You just said that you paid with credit card at the hotel, or have I misunderstood? That’s why you destroyed them, no?"

"Yes." I blush when I think of it. Every child knows you should never pay by credit card when you're on the run. But at the time I didn’t know that I was being chased.

Christian stops in front of the main train station with a screech. He turns to me and smiles. This time it's a real smile, one that makes my heart skip a little. I’m suddenly hot and cold.

"Now we will let dear Ron follow you throughout Germany," he says with a grin.

Shortly thereafter we walk together through the abandoned station building with loud echoing steps. Some weary travelers and two police officers are the only people we encounter. Christian stops to look at the departure board. "Hamburg sounds good, doesn’t it?"

"Very good," I agree. A little later, we are waiting on track 3. The train going north is already waiting to depart.

"Stay here!" Christian takes the small GPS transmitter and boards the train. He really thinks I'm going to stand around alone out here, after all that’s happened? I follow him and watch as he checks each compartment, until he finds an empty one. Before I reach it, he’s standing in front of me again.

"Woman!" Christian shakes his head and pushes me in front of him. "Can you never do what I tell you?"

"I'm sorry," I say later, as we’re once again driving through nocturnal Frankfurt.

"What are you talking about?"

"About coming to you. Now Ron has your address. They’ll visit you as well. You’re no longer safe at home."

"I don’t think they could locate you there. Haven’t you noticed that they can’t always track you down? They should have found you in Frankfurt, before you had your appointment with Ron, or even earlier, when you were driving to Barcelona."

"That’s true. I didn't think of that. Why didn’t the transmitter work?"

Christian grins. "Because your dear Ron didn’t reckon with all your accessories. The poor transmitter was surrounded by all these metal tins in your bag. The signal couldn’t get through as long as you were carrying all that stuff around."

Metal tins? That’s what Christian calls the Platinum make-up collection by Shiseido, which cost me a small fortune? I have to laugh when I imagine Ron's face. How angry he almost certainly was when the signal disappeared, only to turn up again for a short time days later, and then disappear again. Now it's on the way to Hamburg. I lean back satisfied, I can now finally enjoy the ride.

My satisfaction comes to an abrupt end. I should have guessed.

"Why didn't you call the police? That is what people normally do, if they find a corpse," asks Christian.

Crap!

"Well. It's complicated. The body disappeared suddenly."

"The body was gone? How stupid do you think I am?" With a jerk, the car comes to a stop. Christian leans over me and opens my door. "Get out of here, I want nothing to do with you and your tall tales."

"Wait! I know it sounds strange, but let me explain."

"I'm looking forward to it." Christian folds his arms across his chest, looks at me and waits. I begin to sweat again. Only the damsel in distress approach can save me now.

"I don't know what happened. I...I was afraid." That's not even a lie. "All I knew was that there was a dead body in my house, and I panicked. After I discovered the body, I searched the whole house. I looked everywhere, I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anybody in the house besides me. When I came back, he was gone. The dead man, I mean."

"Gone? Just like that?"

“Yes. I don't know, maybe I imagined the whole thing. I took strong sleeping pills the night before, maybe it was just a bad dream or hallucination." I think I’m being pretty convincing. If I hadn’t buried the body myself, I wouldn’t believe me capable of it.

"And I should take you at your word?"

"Yes." I look at him with what I hope is an honest expression. "That’s exactly what happened." Christian shakes his head.

"Close the door," he says, and starts the car again. I lean back with a satisfied smile. There now. That wasn’t so hard.

"I
should get the thousand euros just for the fact you got me out of bed at three in the morning," murmurs Christian and takes a sip of coffee. After our adventure at the station he let me sleep in his guest room, allegedly because it was too late to find a hotel. Relieved, I agreed to his proposal. I would love to stay here forever, I feel safe in his presence.

Now it’s ten o'clock in the morning and he looks at least as sleepy as last night when I got him out of the bed. That does not detract from his good looks, I on the other hand need almost half an hour to prepare myself to face the world. I inspect him a little anxiously. I hope he takes the money and helps me.

"What?" Christian interrupts my thoughts.

"Nothing."

"You’ve been staring at me the whole time and yet you haven’t said a word."

"I’m waiting for your answer."

Christian shrugs his shoulders. "I told you I would help you. Any time. Remember? Day and night." With a grin he pockets the money. "And how exactly do you need my support?"

"You should have asked that question before you took the money."

"That’s true, but I love the risk." To prove this he jumps up, does a handstand and begins to run on his hands. His t-shirt slips down and reminds me that I was in bed with him and have no memory of what happened.

"I need you to attach a GPS transmitter to Ron's car," I reply and pretend as if the view from his kitchen window is fascinating, although there’s little more than a small courtyard with a few trash cans.

"That's all?" Christian finishes his demonstration and sits back at the table. He takes a bread roll and methodically piles it high with butter, cheese, a pickle and several slices of tomato. When he’s finished, it looks quite healthy.

In protest, I bite into my own bread roll topped with marmalade. There must be a few vitamins somewhere in the sweet topping.

"I’ve never earned money so easily."

Instead of replying I inspect him. So far, I have the impression that his career is not particularly stressful, but maybe I’m wrong.

"Okay, okay, most of the time what I do is pretty cool,” he admits, "but a thousand euros, just to plant a transmitter. Great hourly wage."

"Who says that’s all?"

"Okay then, what else? Surprise me." Christian spreads his arms as if he wanted to embrace the whole world. I wish I had such a good mood in the morning.

"I want to stay with you, as long as it takes for the whole thing to get sorted out and the killer is caught."

"Hmmmm."

"What hmmmm?"

"If I remember correctly the body disappeared mysteriously. So, it may take a while until the police discover anything. Right now the dead man is only missing, and the prospects that he will be found soon are pretty bad I'd say. Don't you think?"

"I don't know, but I'm scared, I don’t want to be alone."

Christian is silent. He eats his bread roll while rocking in his chair, doing everything to give the impression that he’s only just outgrown kindergarten. “Okay. Why not? I never have home visits."

Right. Home visits. I had forgotten how he earns his money. No matter. Luckily the ladies never come here.