Miss Polly had a Dolly (Emma Frost #2) Page 11

  Ida nodded and grabbed my hand. I put my arm around her and hugged her. She was the quietest one of Sophia's kids. I was wondering if she even wanted to do this audition. She was usually so shy. Sophia had told me that Ida had wanted to come, that she was the one who had asked first if she could audition and then Christoffer had said that he wanted to do it, too. I found it hard to believe. It was so unlike her. I felt bad that she didn't even have anything to eat. I pulled out a bag of gummy worms and opened it. I asked her if she wanted one and she refused even those.

  Poor thing, I thought and put one in my mouth. I loved the taste of gummy worms. I offered Christoffer one and he took three. I put one in Sophia's mouth while she was still rocking the baby back and forth.

  "Thanks," she said with her mouth full. "Hit the sweet spot."

  I chuckled. The line in front of us was hardly moving. I ate another handful of gummy worms. Good thing it was one of the big bags with this line. I put the bag back with the rest of the food arsenal I had brought.

  "Anyone want some chocolate milk?" I asked. I had packed a lot of small chocolate milk drinks and they were heavy to carry so I was hoping to get rid of some.

  "I'll take one," Christoffer said.

  I handed him one and looked at Ida. She was so pale. She looked like she was going to be sick. "Ida?"

  She shook her head. I shrugged and opened one for myself. I was terrible at waiting like this. It was so boring. So I just kept eating. I found some chocolate and started on that as well. Sophia was soon moaning about her back. Carrying little baby Alma like this wore her out.

  "Well just a couple of hours more," I said with a smile.

  Sophia laughed. "Well that's hardly anything, now is it?"

  The line moved a little bit and we moved ahead, too. I was about to pull out another piece of chocolate when suddenly I was interrupted by screaming up in the front of the line. Then someone was yelling in a megaphone really loud and the crowd ahead of us started screaming again. I stretched my neck to better see what was happening. The line had filled up behind us, but we were still among the ones in the back.

  "Why are they screaming?" Christoffer asked.

  I shrugged and stood on my tiptoes, but whatever was happening was too far away. "I don't know," I said. "But I would really like to find out."

  Ida pulled my arm. Then she pointed into the sky. "Look," she said with a feeble voice.

  I looked up and realized I had been staring in the wrong direction the entire time. Above our heads a helicopter was slowly descending and underneath it, on a small ladder, hung Patrick, holding the megaphone in his hand, yelling something. As he got closer I could hear what it was he was yelling:

  "Good morning, Fanoe! Are you ready to rrrrrumble?"

  The crowd was screaming back.

  "Yes!" and then started chanting his name. "Patrick, Patrick, Patrick."

  I laughed. "So typical him to make an entrance like that," I said. We all watched as the helicopter came closer to the ground. The screaming grew considerably in strength and volume. Patrick then let out one of his famous high-pitched screams that always made me think of Steven Tyler or Axl Rose. I had to say I loved it when he did that. There was no doubt the boy could definitely sing.

  The crowd was screaming and clapping as Patrick came closer. Photographers from the magazines and papers were running around beneath him like small ants under a dinner table where sugar had been spilled on the floor, hoping to get that one shot that would hit the front cover the next day.

  Now we could see him really close. The show's camera crew was filming everything. I started wondering where the helicopter was going to land. There wasn't enough room anywhere. Patrick had to come down here somehow, right?

  Seconds later I had my answer. A crew of people ran into the street and placed a huge inflatable thing. The helicopter descended further. Then Patrick waved at the crowd, pretended to not hold on, pretended that he missed the rope ladder when he tried to reach for it. The crowd screamed and gasped as he fell through the air, still screaming into the megaphone and landed on the inflatable. I held my breath thinking he could hit all kinds of things on his way down or maybe even miss the inflatable and be smashed into the asphalt. But he didn't. Patrick jumped right out of the inflatable and lifted one arm into the air giving the whole world the finger.

  The crowd went berserk.

  Patrick laughed and walked closer while the screaming increased. He ran to some of the girls behind a fence that marked the line and signed their books, arms, and chests. Then he held the megaphone to his mouth again.

  "Do we have some Shooting Stars here today?" he yelled.

  All the children screamed. "Yeeeeeess."

  "Great. Let's get this party staaaaarted!"

  The crowd clapped and screamed as Patrick ran from the beginning of the line down towards us in the back, giving high-fives to everybody on the way. Girls were crying hysterically. I leaned over the fence as he passed us and slapped him a high-five as well.

  When he reached the back, he lifted the megaphone once again and yelled:

  "Auditions are open!"

  Then he was gone.

  "Wow," I said with a huge smile. "Some showmanship, huh?"

  Both of the children nodded eagerly.

  "I want to be famous like Patrick," Christoffer said. "I should be famous."

  Sophia laughed. Baby Alma still wasn't sleeping. Sophia's cheeks had turned red from all the rocking back and forth. I laughed too and messed up Christoffer's hair. "Well maybe you will be after today," I said thinking it really had to be a special type of person who did what Patrick did. It wasn't something just anyone could do. I wondered what it was that had made Patrick such a huge celebrity. What was he even famous for doing? Being crazy? Hated by half of the population loved by the rest. It was hardly a career you would encourage your kid to pursue. But being famous for singing well wasn't a bad thing in my book. Still, I wasn't sure I wanted that kind of life for my kids. The life of a celebrity had to be rough. I wasn't so sure it was all fun like most kids believed. Luckily neither of my kids seemed to want fame and stardom. And neither did I. I enjoyed my level of success immensely. Being a writer and having a bestselling book out now was great. I received letters every day from readers, but people still didn't recognize me on the street. In that way I could continue to live my life as I always had.

  "Emma?"

  I turned to look for who had called my name. I spotted Officer Morten in the street. He was waving and walking closer.

  "Hi there," I said. "How is everything? Busy day, huh?"

  Officer Morten exhaled. "You wouldn't believe it. Not exactly another day at the office."

  I chuckled. "You all alone here?"

  "No, we have called for extra backup from the mainland. The place is packed with police officers. Dressed as civilian most of them, but don't let that fool you. They all hope the bowtie killer will show his ugly face so they can finally take him down. They even came from a special homicide division in Copenhagen. Two guys who have been working on catching the killer for two years."

  "Wow. Well at least that gets you off the hook," I said and smiled.

  "I guess so. But I'm still going to be happier once this entire weekend is over and the show on Monday is done. I can't wait to get back to normal again."

  "Guess you won't be complaining about it being too boring here again, huh?" I asked.

  "Nope. Not for a long time."

  "Any news about the Countess?" I asked.

  "No. It's horrible. The press is all over the story. The royal family is going ballistic. Meanwhile, we have no idea where to look. It's like she has vanished completely from the face of the earth."

  "Guess this is the time where the police would normally just say she had drowned, huh?" I said thinking the statement was provocative, but not regretting being straightforward.

  Officer Morten looked at me. "I guess you're right. If it is the same person who has taken all these kids that has t
aken Countess Josephine, then he is damn good at blurring his tracks. I still find it hard to believe, though, that this could have taken place for so many years without anyone connecting the dots."

  I shrugged. "It is hard to believe, I'll give you that. Have you had time to look into the different cases to see if there any similarities?"

  Officer Morten sighed. "A little bit. Not much. But there is one thing all the cases have in common, other than similarities in the victims."

  The line was moving and I moved along with it. We were speaking with low voices making sure no one else was able to hear our conversation.

  "And what is that?"

  "Well all of them—except Josephine's case that is—were on the same playground when they were last seen."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. That's why the police concluded they were all drowning, because it's the playground down by Vesterhavsbadet. Right by the beach. The conclusion is that they just ran off without their parents seeing, went into the water to try and go to the island, and then drowned."

  "Josephine was taken from Vesterhavsbadet too, wasn't she? That same beach?" I asked.

  "That's what concerns me the most right now. Yes."

  "So do you think the kidnapper lives nearby or something?"

  Officer Morten bit his lip. "Hardly. It's mostly summer cabins that tourists rent and we searched all of them looking for Josephine just the other day."

  "Still, the kidnapper must have some connection to the area. He can't have walked far with Josephine, no?" I asked.

  "Well if he had a car nearby, he could."

  "That's true."

  Officer Morten received a phone call. "I have to go," he said. "I'm needed."

  I nodded pensively. "Sure. Thanks for the info."

  "Remember, this stays between you and me."

  "Of course," I said, thinking about the book I had already started writing in my mind. Officer Morten was already walking away. I turned to face Sophia. Baby Alma had finally fallen asleep. Her face looked so relieved.

  "What was that all about?" she asked as we moved forward again.

  I shook my head. "I'll tell you another day."

  Chapter 38

  April 2013

  Patrick couldn't stop giggling. After the stunt outside he had returned to his dressing room inside the old theater. Oh what a joy. What a thrill to hear all those screaming voices calling his name, demanding his presence. Oh how he loved it.

  Now he was dancing around his room, twirling, wearing an old red cloak that he had found on the racks. It had probably been a part of some play.

  Now it was going to be a part of his.

  He looked at himself in the mirror while giggling, dancing, and just feeling high, ecstatic, slowly losing control.

  Patrick, Patrick you can't lose it. You have to keep it together. Keep both feet on the ground!

  "Shut up, you loser," Patrick hissed out loud to his own reflection. "I'll do whatever pleases me. And they'll love me for it. They'll love everything I do."

  Don't do it, Patrick. Not on a day like this. Wait till it's all over like you usually do. They'll catch you. Someone will see…

  "Didn't I tell you to shut the hell up? Nobody asked for your opinion you pathetic little creature. You're not in charge anymore. I have wiped you out. I have cut you off. You're so weak. No one cares about you anymore."

  Finally his mind was quiet. Then he laughed again. His cheeks were blushing, probably from all the excitement. Patrick's hands were flickering in the air. He just couldn't…he could barely contain it anymore. He had to do it. He had to do something. It was just too…too tempting. With all the police everywhere. It was almost like they were challenging him. And Patrick loved a good challenge.

  "I have to do it," he whispered. He licked his teeth in front of the mirror. "I simply have to," he hissed. "There is no use fighting it anymore."

  Patrick found an old long haired wig and put it on. He kept the cloak on, and put the hood up to cover his face. He put dark make-up on his eyes to make them look creepy before he left the dressing room.

  The auditions always attracted a lot of strange people, dressing in weird costumes so he blended in easily with the rest of the crowd. He wasn't supposed to be on for at least an hour, so he had plenty of time to do his little thing. As he walked along the corridors of the theater he felt a thrill race through his entire body. The anticipation of finally getting his fix. The excitement of the danger of getting caught. It was so…so alluring, so arousing.

  Patrick felt the butterfly-knife in his pants underneath the cloak. This was going to be so much fun.

  Patrick didn't have to walk long before he found his victim. She was standing in front of the toilets behind the scenes where the auditions were. It was a secluded area for people who worked on the show or people who were done with their auditions. But they usually left quickly for the most part.

  She wasn't old, but Patrick had been looking to go younger for a while. He hated those more than anything. The small girls who were oh so pretty, oh so adorable with their long hair and sparkling eyes. To him they were the ultimate victims. So innocent, not yet corrupted by the world and all its evil. They had not yet experienced the roughness of life, the harshness of people.

  He wanted to be the one to introduce them to that. That was the plan. To ruin the innocence, spoil the feeling of security that they still possessed, the belief that the world was a nice place and that people were good. This girl seemed to still posses all of that.

  "Hi there," Patrick said.

  The girl looked into his eyes. "You're Patrick, aren't you?" she asked.

  "Yes. And you're a smart girl, aren't you? What are you doing back here all alone?"

  I was just in the bathroom. I'm waiting for my mom. She told me to wait for her outside."

  "She's in there?" Patrick asked with a shrill edge to his voice.

  "Yes. I have just done my audition and we're going home afterwards."

  No you're not!

  "I see. Did you go through to the next round? Did you DAZZLE the judges? Did you make them just LOOVE you?"

  The girl looked at him. He smiled. Then she shook her head. "Ah, that's too bad. I'm sure they made the wrong decision. I'm sure you're absolutely FABOULOUS."

  The girl was shy and looked down. "I don't know…"

  "Oh but I do. I might know a way for you to get in anyway. Would you be interested in that?"

  The girl looked up, then nodded heavily. A sparkle of hope was lit in her eyes.

  "Okay then," Patrick said with a grin. "Come with me."

  "But…but what about my mom?" she asked.

  "Don't worry about her. I'll have someone tell her where you are when she gets out. Don't worry. She'll be very pleased that you did this. You'll be FAMOUS after this. I'll put you on the cover of all the papers. Just you wait and see."

  "I'd like that," she said and put her small hand in his. "I'd really like that."

  Chapter 39

  August 2004

  "I want both of them."

  The man who pointed at Nina and Blanka next to her was sweating heavily. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. His hair was greasy, his hands and arms covered in black hairs. Looks like a monkey, Nina thought to herself.

  He had been in there before but never picked Nina. She felt good that he finally picked her. The man was important, she had learned that much. Nadja, the woman who took care of the place always acted different when he was there. Now she smiled and nodded. He was a mafia boss, Blanka had told Nina. He was the one who owned the brothel that Nina had been brought to two years ago when she was last sold. Now she was closer to town. Which town, she didn't know, but some town. She watched the beautiful lights at night and dreamed herself away.

  "Nina and Blanka, go with Mr. Zaleski," Nadja said. She grabbed Nina's arm as she passed her. "Now don't let me down. Do everything he says. Make him happy and you make me happy, okay? You'll get reward. Big reward."

  "Li
ke what?" Nina asked. She had been in this business for a long time now and knew that she was worth a lot of money. She was the only one who could speak to Nadja in this way.

  "Food. I'll give you steak, you like steak, huh?"

  Nina shook her head. "Not enough. I want something else."

  Nadja sighed. "Okay, no men for two days. Make Mr. Zaleski happy and you'll be off for two whole days. You stay in your room, but you don't work, alright?"

  "Blanka, too," Nina said. "She gets reward, too."

  Nadja closed her eyes. "Okay. Blanka, too. But just go before he changes his mind. Remember. Make him happy."

  Nina smiled as she grabbed Blanka's hand and walked towards her room. She looked at Blanka before they walked inside with the greasy man. Then she winked at her to let her know about the reward.

  "No men for two days," she whispered.

  Blanka's eyes glistened with joy. Nina looked at her and felt great love for her. She had loved Blanka from the first day she came to the brothel. It was almost a year ago and what a year it had been. Blanka was young, much younger than she and Nina had taken it upon herself to take care of her, explain to her how things worked around there. Blanka had thought she was going away for a job at a restaurant in Greece to support her family back in Slovakia where they were suffering badly. She was no more than eleven when they sent her away to work and send back money. But they were tricked as was Blanka. She never went to Greece, instead she was brought to the same brothel as Nina. She had never even been with a man before she came there and now she had been molested by hundreds already. Nina felt bad for her and had taken good care of her, as good as she possibly could, given their circumstances. But she could never protect her from all the bad things and that hurt her so deeply. At least now that the man had picked the both of them, Nina could make sure he didn't hurt Blanka. She could keep Blankaaway from all the nasty stuff and make sure he only did it to her. In Nina's eyes Blanka was as pure as snow. In fact, she was certain that she loved her deeply. Nina had never loved anyone before and it felt strange and absurd but at the same time so right. Blanka was so right. Her skin like caramel, her eyes brown as almonds, her hair smooth as silk.