DRIP DROP DEAD (Emma Frost Book 12) Read online

  "That's odd," I said.

  "Yeah, a strange story if you ask me. It was in that old part, the condemned part of the building, back when it still housed patients. They had a lot of trouble back then with their pipes. Guess that's why it's condemned today, huh? The old building is probably falling apart."

  "So, your friend was never found again?"

  "Nope." He shrugged again. "Ah, well…we all figured he just had enough of fixing everyone's toilets and ran off. Probably living on some Caribbean island somewhere, I reckon'."

  "Sure sounds better," I said chuckling.

  "Sure does. Can't help dreaming of sun and warmth at this time of year, can we now? You have a good day, ma'am. And call me if the drain clogs up or anything like that. Watch out for flooding."

  "Will do."

  "And don't worry. These critters usually find their way out again after a little while, if they don't freeze to death when the pipes freeze over. Then you'll have a whole new set of problems once spring comes around, heh. Nothing like the stench of a decaying animal."

  "Let's just hope they come out before then," I said, then closed the door behind him as he walked back into the snow. I returned to the living room, walked past the bathroom door, then paused outside of it, putting my ear to the door to listen.

  Nothing. Not even a drip.

  "Frogs," I said with a scoff in the same second as Maya stormed inside the front door.

  "Hey there, sweetie…" I said, but the girl just rushed past me and up the stairs without a word. She simply threw her backpack and shoes on the floor, then slammed the door to her room behind her.

  17

  I decided to give Maya her space and went into the kitchen to prepare afternoon tea. It had to be ready at three o'clock, or it might throw Victor completely out of it. I rushed as much as I could, but at exactly three o'clock when Victor came into the kitchen, I wasn't ready.

  Victor didn't care. He sat down at his chair, his head bent.

  "Where's afternoon tea? It's three o'clock."

  Skye sat next to him while Brutus loomed in the corner, looking more like a porcelain statue than a real live dog.

  "I'm almost done, buddy," I said and took the warm bread out of the oven.

  "But it's three o'clock," he said.

  "I know, but I had to take care of the plumber, remember?"

  "Three o'clock is time for afternoon tea, just as six o'clock is dinner," he said. "That's the way it has always been."

  I cut two pieces of bread, then put jam on them and served him, only two minutes too late.

  Victor stared at the floor, his nostrils flaring. I watched him, wondering if those nostrils would expand even further and it would turn into a regular fit. But then I noticed Skye reach her hand over and place it on top of Victor's, and suddenly his shoulders relaxed, and he calmed down. A second later, he started to eat.

  Wow.

  I sat down too, enjoying a cup of coffee with my bread, and we all ate in silence while Skye played with the knife and let it dangle in the air in front of her. I pretended not to notice since it was just the three of us, and sipped my coffee, wondering what kind of spell the girl had put on my son. Then, as I thought more about it, I realized that maybe my son was in fact just experiencing his first love, and my heart melted completely.

  "So, how was school today?" I asked.

  "Same," Victor said.

  "No new friends?" I asked.

  He didn't answer, and I guessed no.

  Seconds later, when he was done eating, he got up and left the table. "Hey, buddy," I yelled after him. "Wait for Skye. She's not done yet."

  Skye smiled, then swallowed her last bite, and soon she joined him, holding his hand as they ran back into the yard dressed in their winter suits. I watched them for a few seconds when my phone rang again. I had decided not to pick it up but looked at the screen and then realized it was Victor's therapist.

  "Hello?" I said. "H.P.?"

  "Hey there, Emma."

  My heart dropped. Was he calling to tell me bad news? Had Victor done something at school today?

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "Nothing's wrong, Emma. No, on the contrary. I am calling to let you know that Victor has made a friend here. It's a step forward for him, so I thought I'd share it with you."

  "A friend? But…but I just asked him if he made any new friends…"

  "Well, you know how detailed-oriented your son is, and to be honest, he isn't exactly a new friend since he's been here longer than Victor. But he is a friend."

  "But…but that's good news?"

  "Yes, Emma. Your son is doing great. He has a wonderful mind. I don't think I’ve ever met anyone quite like him. I absolutely love working with him, and I think the fact that we do a few private lessons a week and then the rest in the class with the other kids is a good combination for him."

  "A friend?" I said, almost tearing up. "A real friend? And he's a boy? A boy-friend?"

  "Yes, Emma. His name is Daniel."

  18

  It was quite a feast I had ended up preparing and, even though I was annoyed with my mom, I still invited both of my parents over to eat with Morten and me and the kids. Morten's daughter Jytte wasn't thrilled that he wasn't home for dinner again, so I invited her as well, even though I knew she hated me, but she said no.

  I served the roast and the potatoes, feeling very proud of myself for not having been on the Internet all day. The phone had constantly been ringing all afternoon, but now it had finally quieted down. Finally, those vultures understood that I wasn't going to talk to any of them. I didn't need them and their criticism or drama. I had everything I needed right here at my dinner table.

  Maya poked her potato, then scooped it around a few times, her face long and her eyes not looking up at the rest of us. Skye and Victor were sitting quietly, staring into each other's eyes, and I had to constantly remind them to eat.

  "Vegetables too, Vic," I told him.

  They were holding hands under the table and thought I didn't notice. I couldn't figure out if it made me happy or sad. I was glad he had found someone in his life, someone he liked, but at the same time, he was still my little boy, right? Plus, I wasn't sure it was healthy for him, the way she monopolized him. He needed to interact more with his surroundings, with his family.

  "So, Victor…I heard you’ve made a friend at school?" I asked. "H.P. called me and told me."

  Victor didn't look at me.

  "That's awesome, buddy," I continued.

  "Why is that awesome?" he said.

  "Because it's good for you to have a friend."

  "I already have a friend. I have Skye."

  "I know. I know," I said. "It's good to have many friends. And now you have one at school."

  "Why do you keep stating the obvious?" he asked. "I know I have a friend at school."

  "I just thought that maybe you'd like to invite him over one day, huh?" I asked.

  But Victor had already lost interest in what I was saying. He and Skye were done eating and excused themselves and left. I looked after him, wondering what he shared with Skye that he never did with me.

  Your boy is happy. Don't make it an issue. Don't create a problem that isn't there.

  I took another piece of meat and ate while wondering how to stop being jealous of my son's girlfriend. Was it normal to feel this way? I guessed it was. Maybe I just felt it a little more extreme because I never really felt like Victor was mine. I guess I was afraid of losing the little I had.

  "So, Morten, any exciting news from your work?" my mom asked.

  "Well, no, not really," he said, chewing. "The island had a pretty quiet day today, which is good."

  "That is good," my dad said and put his silverware down. "When the police are bored, things are going well for our community."

  Morten scratched his forehead. "I wouldn't say I’m bored, but yes, you're absolutely right. It's one of the few professions where you really want to be out of work."

 
; We finished our dinner and Morten helped me clean up while my mom and dad watched the news in the living room. I knew that my mom was itching to say something about my self-publishing ordeal, but I was surprised to see that she kept quiet all through the dinner. I bet my dad had something to do with that.

  I did the dishes while Morten wiped. He looked at the water coming out of the faucet.

  "They say she drowned," he suddenly said, his eyes fixed on the water. I turned it off.

  "What? Who…Ann?"

  He nodded and put the pan down. "She had water inside her lungs. Her stomach was filled too. Several of her organs were so filled with water they had burst."

  "What? That sounds crazy! How's that even possible?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know. The forensics say the water must have somehow been forced inside of her. It doesn't look like a normal drowning. It had to have happened fast too."

  "So, do you think she was killed?"

  He shrugged. "It can hardly have happened by accident, they say. But I don't know. It sounds very odd."

  I stared into the sink where the water was slowly running down the drain, making a sucking sound as it disappeared.

  "It sure does. I mean, how do you force water inside someone? Using a pressure washer?"

  Morten shrugged again. "I honestly don't know. It all sounds very odd to me, but again, I’m no expert."

  I returned to my dishes, and we worked together in quiet, each of us wondering what had happened to poor Ann Mortensen when my dad came out and told us they were heading home.

  "Mom's tired."

  "Thanks for coming over, Dad," I said and wiped my hands on the dishtowel, then followed him back into the hallway to say goodbye. I kissed my dad on the cheek.

  "Did you say goodbye to the kids?"

  He nodded. "Don't worry about Maya," he said with a low voice.

  "Boy trouble?" I asked, knowing my dad had a way of getting things out of my daughter that I never could.

  He nodded. "This too shall pass."

  I felt a wave of relief rush through me since I wanted Maya to have as normal a youth as possible and, so far, that hadn't happened. But having boy trouble certainly was in the category of normal. It made me happy.

  "Thanks," I said.

  He kissed my cheek. "No worries."

  My dad walked ahead, and my mom came up to me and grabbed my face between her hands.

  "Thank you for a wonderful dinner tonight. It's so good to be together. I’m glad you're hanging in there despite all the bad things they're saying about you everywhere."

  Wow, Mom. You almost made it. You almost made it all night without mentioning it.

  "Mom...I…"

  She looked into my eyes. "Why would you ruin your own career like that? You were doing so well for yourself?"

  "Ulla! We're leaving now," my dad yelled from the doorway.

  "I just don't get it; that's all," she added.

  "That is absolutely no surprise to me," I said, then kissed her cheek goodbye.

  19

  As he realized something was off with his toilet—the water was splashing against the sides, and there was water on the bathroom floor—Sven Thomsen forgot all about calling the police and had to call the plumber instead. Of course, the guy arrived after dark with some lame excuse that it had been a busy day and he had lots of emergency calls.

  Sven didn't want to hear his excuses but guided him directly to the bathroom and showed him the puddle next to the toilet.

  "It's leaking."

  The plumber knelt next to it and pulled out his toolbox. Sven stayed and watched the man to make sure he didn't mess up more than he fixed. You never knew with these types. But as he stood there, his phone suddenly rang, and he walked into the living room to answer it.

  "Hi, Dad."

  It was his daughter. She lived in Copenhagen now with her husband and Sven's three grandchildren. Why they had to move all the way over there, he didn't understand, but just as little did he understand why they didn't come back. Fanoe Island was such a good place to live. And clean. There was no reason for them to be living in that big, dirty city when they could be out here where the children could grow up running on the beach and in the forest. Sven had grown up here himself and enjoyed every moment of it.

  It was something about a job. Jeanie, his daughter, had gotten some fancy position in the HR department of a big software company and they had to live in Copenhagen for that. Why she was so keen on having a career and not taking care of her children was beyond Sven. He had had a career, yes, but not his wife.

  "At least have one of you stay home and take care of the children," he had told her back then. "You can't both have big careers and have a family at the same time. It's not fair to the little ones."

  But Jeanie had laughed at him and called him a dinosaur while patting him on the cheek in that way she did that, to her seemed affectionate, but to him felt condescending. Yes, Sven was getting older, and he was retired, but he wasn't old. Not really old. Sixty-seven was hardly old. At least it didn't feel like that.

  "How are you doing, Dad?" Jeanie now asked, her voice soft. He could sense her exaggerated sympathy oozing all the way through the phone. Pity, he called it. This was a pity call.

  "Me? I'm fine."

  "Good. Good. Getting enough to eat?" she asked.

  "Why wouldn't I eat?"

  "I don't know…just since it was always…Mom who cooked…"

  "So, you assumed just because your mother died that I wouldn't eat food?" he asked, trying to keep an eye on the plumber at the same time. He didn't trust him much. Still, he didn't want him to listen in on his conversation either, so he had to keep his distance. He just hoped the guy would be able to fix the problem quickly.

  "No…no, of course not…" Jeanie sighed. "Why do you have to be so…all the time…can't we just talk?"

  "I don't know, Jeanie. Can you call just because you want to talk to me? Not because you feel sorry for me?"

  His daughter sighed again. He had hurt her. He knew he had and regretted it. He opened his mouth to say something. He wanted to express that he was, in fact, happy that she called him because he missed her and the kids terribly and he felt so alone, but his daughter beat him to it.

  "I have to go, Dad. I'll call again later this week."

  She hung up before he could say anything, and he put the phone down on the table next to his picture of him and Birthe. It was taken before she had received that stupid phone call from her doctor telling her it had spread.

  "Stupid doctors," Sven now said to the picture. "You were fine before you went to that check-up. We were all doing fine."

  Since Sven was a doctor himself, or he used to be, he was allowed to call them stupid and ignorant if he wanted to. He hadn't been a physician but had worked in a lab and was very proud of his research for which he had won many prizes, prizes that were now hanging on his wall in his study gathering dust, while the world forgot his name.

  That stupid neighbor still hasn't cleared his sidewalk.

  Sven grumbled and walked to the window, then peeked out when the plumber came out of the bathroom, and Sven forgot the police once again.

  The plumber wiped his fingers on a towel. Sven hoped it was one he had brought himself and not one of Sven's. He wouldn't know how to get all that black stuff off it. Birthe would have known how, but it wasn't like she had left a manual on how to do things around the house when she died. There was no darn manual for anything in life.

  "I…I can't really find the leak," he said.

  "You can't find it?" Sven asked, annoyed. "The water was right there. On the floor. Didn't you see it? It was quite hard to miss."

  "Yes, of course, but I can't find any cracks in the toilet, and it's not clogged or anything."

  "Oh. Then what do you want me to do about it?" Sven asked, irritated. If you call in an expert, you expect them to get the job done, not leave without any answers.

  "It might be an animal of some sort. We'r
e getting that a lot lately, you know with the freezing temperatures we've had and all. Animals seek shelter in the pipes and then…"

  "You’re telling me some animal dripped water on my tiles? That it crawled out of the toilet and into my bathroom? Then let me ask you one more question. Where the heck is that animal now?"

  "It could have crawled back…" the plumber tried, but Sven was tired of listening to his nonsense. It was like everything else in this stupid world. If you wanted something done, you'd have to do it yourself.

  "Just get out of here," he told him and opened the front door.

  "Call me if anything else happens or if it gets worse," the plumber said, but Sven had already slammed the door shut. He walked through the living room, grumbling about his neighbor and how he was definitely going to call the police on him first thing in the morning.

  20

  "You kissed Alex?"

  Christina paused on the other end. Maya had returned from dinner and was sitting on her bed watching Netflix when she called. Maya's heart dropped.

  "What did you say?"

  "It's all over the group chat," she said. "Didn't you see it?"

  "I left the group chat long ago," Maya said.

  "Oh, well…but it is. Everyone is talking about you two. I knew you'd come around. I have to admit, I’m kind of jealous. He is so…"

  "Yummy, I know. You said that," Maya said with a deep exhale. "Exactly who is saying that we kissed?"

  "Well, he is."

  "Alexander?" Maya asked.

  "Yes. He said you two kissed this afternoon in front of your house…wait…it's not true?"

  "Let's just say it's complicated," Maya said.

  "How can it be complicated? Either you kissed, or you didn't," Christina continued. "So, did you?"