Although it could have been even more horrific if Sigart’s face had been in the shot. But, like last time, the picture ended at his shoulder.
Was that because Sigart had actually long since died of blood loss? ‘Can you zoom in on the wound?’
On closer inspection, Beatrice’s theory didn’t stand: the flesh where the fingers had been severed was pink, not sallow. The hand was pale, but not grey. And it was definitely Sigart’s hand, unless another of the Owner’s victims also had severe burn scars.
Florin reached for his phone and instructed Stefan to find out where the mobile was at the time the message was sent. He forwarded the photo, and then sent it to Vogt and Drasche. All the usual actions that had so far brought them zero results.
‘Why isn’t he showing us Sigart’s face?’ murmured Beatrice.
‘I’d prefer to know why he’s sending us these pictures at all. No, I’ll be more specific – why is he sending them to you?’
‘Because it’s possible he thinks we have something in common.’ The thought felt like ice on the back of her neck. ‘Because he thinks I’m a perpetrator too, in some ways.’
Until now, she had kept quiet about the text the Owner had sent to accompany the picture, as if she were concealing a flaw she didn’t want Florin to see. She pulled her phone back out of her bag and read the words to herself once more, silently, before uttering them out loud.
‘“Omission to do what is necessary, Seals a commission to a blank of danger.”’
Now her own wound was almost laid bare. But Florin didn’t yet catch on.
‘He sent that with the picture? Is it Goethe again?’
‘No. Shakespeare. It doesn’t matter anyway. The important thing is what the Owner means by it. And he means me.’
Florin turned to face her, took her hand in his and held it tight. ‘He means you and Evelyn?’
‘I don’t know who else he could mean.’
She hasn’t noticed that dark has fallen outside. David is still lying on top of her, his mouth buried in the curve of her neck. He’s humming or murmuring; she can feel the vibration on her skin. A moment of complete and utter contentment. Thank you, she mouths silently, feeling as though she’s about to laugh. Or cry.
‘Beabeabea,’ whispers David, rolling off her and pulling her with him, holding her head close to his shoulder. ‘Let’s stay here for ever. Just the two of us. We can shut the world out and make our own.’
She lays an arm across his chest, breathing in his scent, never having smelt anything better. ‘For ever isn’t long enough.’
‘You’re right. Beautiful, clever Bea.’ David’s kisses on her closed eyelids are so gentle, just a whisper, not enough. She seeks his lips with her own, sinking into them.
‘I’d fetch us something to drink, but for that I’d have to let you go,’ he says when they surface again.
‘Dying of thirst isn’t a good idea,’ answers Bea, nudging his shoulder affectionately. She doesn’t take her eyes off him as he stands up and crosses the room, naked and beautiful, much too beautiful for her. She’s always thought that, keeping to friendly kisses on the cheek whenever they met and said goodbye, only wondering occasionally in her daydreams what it would be like. What it could be like. With him.
Until last night. When his hand had suddenly rested on hers. She had spread out her fingers, and his plunged into the space between, tearing the blue-and-white checked paper tablecloth at the pizzeria.
‘He’s been crazy about you for months, sweetie.’ Evelyn had followed her to the bathroom, of course, pulling silly faces as she touched up her mascara. ‘Was I right or was I right?’
‘Okay, okay!’ Something inside Beatrice had jumped around in excitement, and if she wasn’t careful she would join in, like a little kid who had just been given a lolly. ‘And you really think… I mean, you reckon it’s not just a whim?’
‘This is David we’re talking about, not me,’ Evelyn had grinned, ruffling Beatrice’s hair and then pulling a hairbrush out of her bag. ‘He’s just a tad too respectable to be my type, otherwise you’d have competition.’ She plucked out a few long, deep red hairs that were entangled in the brush.
‘Here you go, sweetheart, make yourself pretty for him. And don’t feel like you’re lucky to be with him, okay? If anything it’s the other way around. You’re gold, don’t forget that.’
Beatrice hums the Spandau Ballet hit to herself as David walks back from the kitchen. He has a tea towel over his arm like a waiter, and he’s carrying a bottle of cheap sparkling wine and two mismatched water tumblers.
‘Not very stylish, I’m afraid,’ he says, pressing the prettier of the two glasses into her hand. ‘But I hope you can see the charm in it.’
She can. Paradise is now a badly ventilated bachelors’ pad with unwashed dishes in the sink and piles of dirty washing in the bedroom. But she doesn’t care about any of that.
For a while, the cork is reluctant to leave the bottle. They struggle with it, giggling, and once they’re finally victorious a good third of the contents shoot out. But they don’t care about that either, snuggling up to one another, drinking from the old glasses and each other’s mouths, kissing each other’s bodies.
Then her phone rings.
‘I’m not answering it.’ She holds her empty glass out towards David and he fills it up halfway. They drink. The phone continues ringing – beeping, to be precise – boring shrill holes in the mood.
‘Fine then.’ Beatrice swings her legs out of bed. Where was her bag?
‘Why doesn’t your answerphone kick in?’
‘Because I deactivated it. Otherwise I’d never receive any calls – by the time I’ve found the phone the mailbox has always picked up.’
Evelyn. Oh, God, yes, the stupid party. She’d completely forgotten.
‘Hi, Eve.’
‘Hey, sweetie, where are you?’
‘I’m… um, I’m busy.’
‘Busy… oh, I get it, with Michelangelo’s David. Understood. How long will you be there for?’
‘That’s hard to say.’ He’s behind her now, lifting the hair from the nape of her neck and kissing the sensitive spot. ‘It’s likely to be a while. A very long while.’
‘Does that mean you’re not coming to Nola’s? I’m already there, and I can tell you you’re missing a good party.’
She suppresses a blissful sigh. ‘I very much doubt that.’
‘Oh, come on. Just bring him with you. Make everyone else jealous of how happy you are.’
‘That’s a good idea in theory, but…’ Did she really have to spell it out?
‘Fine then, stay in bed for all I care. The only thing is, I don’t know how I’ll get home later, this place is in the middle of nowhere. I was counting on you.’
Just like you always do. For the first time that day, her elated mood is starting to deflate. I’m the one with the car and the driving licence, and you’re in absolutely no hurry to get yours. That way, the question of who’s drinking and who’s the designated driver never even comes up.
‘There are loads of people there. I’m sure someone will give you a lift.’
‘Yes, probably.’ Evelyn giggles. ‘There’s a really cute blond guy with dark brown eyes, so let’s hope he lives near us.’ She hangs up.