“Who, Augusta?”
“Whoever heard me screaming. There’s a building right across the way, I saw windows on the wall there…”
“Yes, it used to be a hat factory. And, until recently, an artist was living there. But he moved out six months ago. The loft has been empty since.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“No.”
“You want me to think no one heard me.”
“Someone may have heard you, Augusta, it’s quite possible. But it really doesn’t matter. As I say, it will be quite some time before we’re found, even it you were heard. Augusta, do you like what I’ve done with your photographs? This didn’t just happen overnight, you know, I’ve been working on it for quite some time. Do you like it?”
“Why did you do all this?” she asked.
“Because I love you,” he said simply.
“Then let me go.”
“No.”
“Please. Please let me go. I promise I won’t—”
“No, Augusta, that’s impossible. Really, it’s quite impossible. We mustn’t even discuss it. Besides, it’s almost time for the ceremony, and it someone heard you screaming, as you pointed out—”
“If you really love me…”
“Ah, but I do.”
“Then let me go.”
“Why? So you can go back to him? No, Augusta. Come now. It’s time for your bath.”
“I don’t want a bath.”
“The article about you—”
“The hell with the article about me!”
“It said you bathed twice daily. You haven’t had a bath since I brought you here, Augusta.”
“I don’t want a goddamn bath!”
“Don’t you feel dirty, Augusta?”
“No.”
“You must bathe, anyway.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You must be clean for the ceremony. Get up, Augusta.”
“No.”
“Get off the floor.”
“Go fuck yourself,” she said.
The scalpel appeared suddenly in his hand. He smiled.
“Go ahead, use it,” she said. “You’re going to kill me, anyway, so what difference—?”
“If I use it now,” he said, “it will not be pleasant. I prefer not to use it in anger, Augusta. Believe me, if you provoke me further, I can make it very painful for you. I love you, Augusta, don’t force me to hurt you.”
They stared at each other across the length of the room.
“Please believe me,” he said.
“But however you kill me—”
“I do not wish to talk about killing you.”
“You said you were going to kill me.”
“Yes. I do not want to talk about it.”
“Why? Why are you going to kill me?”
“To punish you.”
“Punish me? I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you.”
“Then why do you want to punish me?”
“For what you did.”
“What did I do?”
“This is pointless. You are angering me. You should not have screamed. You frightened me.”
“When?”
“When? Just now. When I came into the apartment. You were Screaming. You frightened me. I thought someone—”
“Yes, what did you think?”
“I thought someone had got in here and was… was trying to harm you.”
“But you yourself are going to harm me.”
“No,” he said, and shook his head.
“You’re going to kill me. You said you’re—”
“I want to bathe you now,” he said. “Come.” He held out his left hand. In the right hand he was holding the scalpel. “Come, Augusta.”
She took his hand, and he helped her to her feet. As they went through the apartment to the bathroom, she thought she should not have broken the window, she should not have screamed, she should not have done either of those things. The only thing to do with this man was humor him, listen to everything he said, nod, smile pleasantly, agree with him, tell him how nice it was to be in an apartment papered with pictures of herself. Stall for time, wait for Bert to get a line on him, because surely they were working on it right this minute. Wait it out, that was all. Patience. Forbearance. They’d be here eventually. She knew them well enough to know they’d be here.
“I could so easily hurt you,” he said.
She did not answer him. Calm and easy, she thought. Cool. Wait it out. Humor him.
“It is so easy to hurt someone,” he said. “Did I tell you my mother was killed by an intruder?”
“Yes.”
“That was a long time ago, of course. Come, we must bathe you, Augusta.”
In the bathroom, he poured bubble bath into the tub, and she watched the bubbles foaming up, and heard him behind her, tapping
The blade of the scalpel against the edge of the sink.
“Do you know why I bought the bubble bath?” he asked.
“Yes, because of the magazine article.”
“Is it true that you like bubble baths?”
“Yes.”
“I am going to bathe you now,” he said.
She suffered his hands upon her.
There were six buttons on the bodice of the gown, spaced between the square neckline and the Empire waist. The gown was made of cotton, with rows and rows of tucked white lace, and more lace on the inside of the full sleeves. A silk-illusion veil crowned Augusta’s auburn hair, and she was carrying a small bouquet of red roses. He had dressed her himself, fumbling with the delicate lace-edged panties and bra, sliding the lacy blue garter up over her left thigh, adjusting the veil on her head, and then presenting her with the bouquet. He led her barefoot into the living room now, and asked her to sit on the sofa, facing him. She sat, and he told her to clasp both hands around the shaft on the bouquet, and to hold the flowers on her lap and to lock straight ahead of her, neither to the right nor to the left, but straight ahead. He was standing directly in front of her, some six feet away, as he began his recitation.
“We are witnesses here,” he said, “the two of us alone, we are witnesses to this holy sacrament, we are witnesses. You and I, man and woman, and child asleep in innocence, we are witnesses. We are witnesses to the act, we have seen, we have seen. I have seen her before, yes, I have witnessed her before, I have seen photographs, yes, she knew this, she was a famous model, there would be roses at the door, roses from strangers, they would often arrive without warning. I have seen photographs of her, yes, she was quite famous, I have seen her dressing too, I have sometimes witnessed — the bedroom door ajar, I have sometimes in her underthings, yes, she was quite beautiful, I have witnessed, but never naked, never that way, das Blut, ach!”
He shook his head. Though Augusta knew no German, she instantly understood the word “Blut.” He repeated the word in English now, still shaking his head, his eyes on the roses in Augusta’s lap.
“Blood. So much blood. Everywhere. On the floor, on her legs, nackt und offen, do you understand? My own mother, meine Mutter. To expose herself that way, but ah, it was so very long ago, we must forget, nein? And in fairness, she was dead, you know, he had cut her throat, you know, forgive them their trespasses, they know not what they do. So much blood, though… so much. He had cut her so bad, yes, even before her throat, she was so… so many cuts… she… everywhere she had touched, there was blood. Running away from him, you know. Touching the walls, and the bureau, and the closet door, and the chairs, blood everywhere. Screaming, Ach, ach, I covered my ears with my hands, Bitte, bitte, she kept screaming again and again, Please, please, Bitte, bitte, where is my father to let this happen to her, where? There is blood everywhere I look. Her legs are open wide when I go into the bedroom, there is blood on the inside of her legs, shameless, like a cheap whore, to let him do this to her? Why did she allow it, why? Always so careful with me, of course, always so modest and chaste — Now, now, Klaus, you must not stay in the bedroom when I am dressing, you must not peek on your mother, eh? Run along now, run along, there’s a good boy — petticoats and lace, and once in her bloomers, with nothing on top, smelling of perfume, I wanted so much to touch you that day, Augusta, but of course I am too small — you are too small, Augusta, your breasts. You are really quite a disappointment to me, I don’t know why I bother loving you at all, when you give yourself so freely to another. Ah, well, it was a long time ago, nein? Forgive and forget, let bygones be bygones, we are here today to change all that, we are here today as witnesses.”