Glenda

Chapter 5

A nightclub with a brown oak interior and the smell of leather and expensive perfume mixed with disgusting photographs of naked boys on the walls.

– It's art, miss. The bigots don't understand him. – a passing manager made a sarcastic comment towards Glenda, who was looking at one of the photographs with disgust.

“What a piece of trash, he runs a brothel, but thinks of himself as an aesthete. It’s okay, someday I’ll get to you”

– Good afternoon, gentlemen and lady. – a woman in a deep neckline extended her hand with a ring. – Whom do you want?

She gestured toward one of the tables in the corner that seated five. There weren't many people in the room, which is why they started serving them so quickly.

“Yor…” Glenda began, but Jack immediately interrupted her, neatly hitting her with his boot under the table.

– Wild Penny.

“Wild Penny? God, what a pseudonym. It seems like I don't understand people at all. Jornas cannot be called wild in sex at all.”

– Unfortunately, he is not here today. Besides, he is a favorite of women, not men. You would be bored with him.

“Phew, well, thank God. And all the same, what a blessing that I protected myself every time. From women or men, it doesn’t matter, such people can carry various diseases.”

– Then, Cowboy. We will go to him together.

– Fine. – smiling widely with a Hollywood smile, the owner of the brothel in a floor-length blue evening dress retired behind the bar counter.

– Glenda, you'll have to sit here while we question the witness. – Iver said educationally.

– No, I'll stay. – Jack protested confidently. – You will go to the Cowboy and find out everything. And if you go too far, she will be able to console him like a woman and get him talking.

Glenda was surprised at this turn of events. He is like an uncle who persuades a father to take his daughter fishing at the age of five, when she still barely knows how to sculpt sand cakes.

Sly as a fox, Madame Durso returned on the arm of a young and handsome boy. In a white shirt and jeans, he looked barely underage until she saw the wrinkles around his eyes. He is about twenty-five years old, just very nicely preserved.

“God, how similar to Jornas. This hair and eyes, everything is like his. Stylish and handsome, but submissive, like a bird in a cage.”

– One hundred euros per person.

– I'm sorry, what? – Glenda choked on her beer.

– You will be together, so two hundred euros per hour.

– Okay, madam. Here you go – Iver opened his leather wallet and took out two green bills and handed them to the red-haired madam.

– Come on, gentlemen.

– She and I will go.

– Fine. – The bar owner answered, a little surprised, and continued leading the guests along.

Glenda was embarrassed, but got up from the table and followed the trio.

In the twilight of the corridor with dim red lighting, mirrors hung along the walls. It was not clear to her why they were there, perhaps to create the illusion of involvement, that there were more guests caught in the whirlpool of lust and sin than there actually were.

Nausea rose in Glenda's throat; the only reassurance was that they were not going to do anything reprehensible with the Cowboy, only an interrogation, nothing more.

The door to the small blue room slammed shut. Iver turned the key, now they are alone.

– Which do you prefer, sir and madam? – the guy began obsequiously, but Iver stopped him.

– Listen, kid, that's not what we're here for. We need information on Jornas Cronwood – Wild Penny.

– I won't tell you anything. They'll kill me! – the guy whispered in fear.

– Tell me, otherwise we'll put you in prison.

Suddenly the guy started screaming at the top of his lungs “black, black!” Iver barely had time to cover his mouth with his palm, but there was already a knock on the room.

Glenda leaned over to the Cowboy sitting on the chair and whispered.

– Jornas was my boyfriend and I loved him. I have to find the killer of my loved one, and I promise that I won’t hurt you either.

The key in the lock turned and a thug in a black tracksuit burst into the room.

– What's happening?

– It's okay, Hans, false alarm. – Iver has already freed Cowboy, and it turned out that it was not in vain that he went with Glenda. She was able to persuade the boy to help them.

After looking at the guests with disbelief, the guard left, and Glenda again rushed to the witness.

– We need to know who came to Wild Penny most often? What notes did you tell our investigator about when you called?

– I was completely in vain to blab. Half an hour after communicating with your man, they called me anonymously and threatened that if any information was disclosed, they would come and deal with me.

– Who are they?

– Don't know.

– Was it a woman's or a man's voice?

– Male.

– Did only a woman come to Jornas?

– Yes. – but realizing that he had spilled the beans, the Cowboy stopped short – What? No. I can not tell.

– You will have to, because if this woman can take people’s lives so freely, then we are all not safe. – seeing a more humble look, Glenda continued. “You said on the phone that he was a businessman, the owner of the brothel kindly blabbed that Jornas is not gay.” So we just need the name of this businesswoman.

– I don't know.

– Speak, mother! – Iver shouted, already quite tired of Glenda’s courtesy to the witness.

– I really do not know.

– How does she look?

– I have never seen her, and Jornas did not tell me about her appearance.

– But the guards and Madame Durso saw her.

– No, this woman was always in a burqa. I can only tell you where the notes from her are.

– No, you will give them to us.

– But how are they lying in his room?

– Go get them. Think of something. Say you want to take a toy for special guests.

Nodding uncertainly, the guy unbuttoned his shirt so that the security would not have any more questions than why he had left, and disappeared into the corridor.

– What do you think, will he come back?

– I'm one hundred percent sure. He's scared, but he's not stupid. By ridding the world of this bitch, his life will also become a little calmer.

– Don't think. This guy is a prostitute. Every day could be like his last.

– But in Denmark it is allowed as a second job, is it really that dangerous?

– In Denmark, fifteen percent of the population has HIV.

– But you also have quite good medicines.

– I won't argue. I don't think he will return. We have nothing to wait for. We can leave, we found out what we need, and tomorrow we will go to the hospital.

But then Cowboy came into the room with a small stack of yellow paper envelopes. Hope and a slight smile appeared on his face, although his hands were shaking.

Glenda opened one of them.

“My dear Penny, I won’t come today. Here's a little compensation for an evening of downtime. Don't even think about sleeping with anyone. Go for a walk or go to the cinema. And tomorrow we'll have fun. Your Mrs. S."

The three spent the rest of the hour searching for various clues in the notes. Glenda simply refused to read the disgusting perversions and immediately passed them on to Iver; no one could do this to her Jornas. But what was remarkable was that everywhere she signed herself as Mrs. with different letters of the alphabet. The handwriting was the same everywhere, but the initials were different.

– Thank you, boy. You helped out a lot. Come on, don't get sick. – At the end of the hour Larsen said.

“You will save me?” the guy took hold of Glenda’s brush as if she was his last hope.

– Certainly. – the girl smiled and carefully disentangled herself from the handshake.

The door was opened by the same Hans.

“Will you extend it?” he asked rudely.

– No thanks. We're already leaving.

And then, in the red twilight, through the open door in the reflection of the corridor mirror, Glenda saw a picture that almost stopped her heart. Wild primitive horror froze every muscle.

In the reflection, she saw herself missing half of her face. A bloody laceration gaped from the top of his head to his cheek. There was something whitish among this pile of carmine-colored meat – the eyeball in the soft tissue was still sitting in the socket.

– What happened to you? – the question of Iver, who ran into Glenda, who suddenly stopped as she was leaving, brought her to her senses.

She looked into the reflection again, but didn't see anything like that there. The girl is like a girl, beautiful, healthy.

– Everything is fine, just a little tired.

– Yes, let's go to bed now. We won't know anything today anyway. We have now found out that this lady is married. Now the circle has narrowed significantly. And all thanks to you.

– I'm glad I could be useful.

Chapter 6

Larsen's apartment turned out to be not so spacious. More like a disorganized studio. Two small rooms that barely fit a narrow bed and a wardrobe, and a kitchen combined with a hallway, where there was a table in the center, a sofa on one side, and two chairs from Ikea on the other.

– This is my bachelor's home. Don’t be surprised by the chaos, I’m just rarely at home and don’t get around to tidying up my hands.

– What are you talking about, it’s very cozy here.

– Wine?

– No thanks. I won't give up sleeping pills.

– Oh, I don’t use this stuff. – Iver winced. – What happened, are you tired? Trouble sleeping?

– No. You're right, I'll fall asleep anyway. – She followed the owner of the apartment into one of the bedrooms. He handed her a towel and bed linen.

– It’s not very beautiful here, but it’s far from your ill-fated home.

– Speaking of the house, tell me why you insisted on buying it? Glenda narrowed her eyes. This really seemed strange to her, because the house turned out to be cursed, and here Iver offered to stay with him. – This is to lure me to you. Are you a maniac in uniform or what? Immunity and all that? You rape young girls, and no one will even suspect you?

“Well, yes, that’s why I said several times in front of Jack today that you were going to spend the night with me.” The man with ashen hair and blue eyes just grinned. – Go to bed, beauty, you are really tired today.

He left, closing the door behind him. And Glenda was left alone in four square meters with her fears.

Falling asleep was indeed not difficult, but the hardest part began after she was completely immersed in sleep.

The ocean-cold water soaked all my clothes and touched my skin with its entire volume. Or maybe it’s the sea, pressing on her like a tyrant? There is no shore or bottom around, only light barely penetrating into the thickness of the icy despot above her. Ten or twenty meters to the surface, and every moment she sank deeper and deeper into this bottomless space like a black hole. There was no longer any strength to hold my breath and Glenda opened her mouth. Her lungs filled with salty water pressure and… She woke up.

– Father! – burst out of his chest, and an alarmed Iver ran into the room.

– Baby, were you calling someone?

– No, sorry. I had a nightmare. Everything is OK now. – wiping sweat from the back of her neck, said the out of breath Glenda.

– It's clear. I was just about to wake you up. It's time for us to have breakfast and go to the department.

– Wonderful. I need half an hour.

Glenda got into the shower. She did not have any bath accessories with her. Fortunately, Larsen used a good shampoo that was also suitable for women’s hair, the same way her parents washed themselves in order to save on various shower cosmetics, and Glenda was pleased, her hair glowed with a healthy shine, unlike her eyes.

A cloudy, barely noticeable veil, after a terrible night, clouded the pupils so that upon expert examination it looked like the consequences of a week-long binge.

She turned on the light above the mirror and tried to get a better look at her eyes. Approaching the mirror almost to the point of eyelashes, Glenda recoiled all the way to the opposite wall. Worms swam chaotically in her left eye.

Small, no larger than a child's nail stub, white, twisted creatures simply swarmed in the vitreous humor.

Overcoming herself, Glenda once again looked into her pupils. There was no one there anymore, as she thought. Quite angry at her helplessness, but no longer feeling any fear, she decided.

"Enough for me. I'll go to the pharmacy before the police. I need sedatives, and the stronger the better. I'm going crazy."

– Everything is fine? – Iver was waiting for her at the table with mozzarella and croutons.

– Not good.

– I heard a crash in the bathroom, as if you had hit yourself. Are you okay?

– Yes, except for the bruises on the elbows.

– So what happened?

– Damn it, I'm just sick! “Glenda didn’t expect such behavior from herself, but she didn’t have the strength anymore.

– Fine. Stay home, get treatment. – Iver said a little alarmed.

– No way. I need to go to the pharmacy, I'm sure it will get easier.

“Fesipam truly relieved nervous tension, as well as the desire for life, interest in the investigation and Mr. Larsen as well. But I don’t agree to this either. Better a sick mind than a helpless one.”

Glenda opened the bottle and poured all the pills into the toilet.

After three hours, the effect of the medicine should decrease, but for now she will remain in a trance for a while.

Once again seeing a bloody stump instead of a thumb, the girl was not afraid. It was more like apathy. Like a soldier lying on the battlefield in the morning with wounds incompatible with life and shock from which no pain is felt, he simply dies quietly, looking at the sky.

Then she heard a familiar voice in the background.

– Bro, take the forensic report. This is not suicide. We are officially starting to find the killer.

Iver casually threw some papers on the table and walked up to the girl in a purple T-shirt.

– The meeting is over, you can go to Mr. Johanson.

– Yes, let's go.

– You're kind of lethargic.

– Yes, I took Fesipam.

– Oh my God. Are you crazy?

– And if so, then what? You are not my husband or father. I do what I want. – Glenda, usually active and lively, now showed her insolence like an amoeba.

– It's clear. You won't go to the hospital with us like that.

– Well, please, Mr. Larsen. Just don’t forget that it was I who helped you yesterday with the Cowboy.

– I didn’t say that you wouldn’t go at all. Let's just bring you to your senses first. – the man in uniform turned towards the next table. – Irene, please help Miss Miller cope with the poisoning.

A woman in high heels and a business suit led Glenda into a small room, like a utility room. She smelled divine, and her hair hung from her shoulders directly onto the girl who sat in the office chair.

– Are you Mr. Larsen's mistress? – Glenda asked just as sleepily.

– No, miss. I'm his colleague. Sit back, now I will install the system for you.

“Political?” she giggled, but as if someone had done it for her.

The employee remained silent. She stuck a thick plastic catheter into the vein, applied a band-aid, and as she removed the needle, a drop of blood fell from her nose and onto Glenda's jeans.

– Sorry.

She took off the tourniquet and raised her head. The beautiful Asian face now looked disfigured by a puncture wound right down the middle.

The first drops of the antidote worked quickly, Glenda perfectly felt the horror, undisguised by the lubricating effect of the muscle relaxant.

– What's wrong with you, miss? – Irene asked in bewilderment, and her face became normal again.

– Nothing. Thank you. – barely pulling herself together, Glenda said.

Thirty minutes later, consciousness cleared up, the vivid colors of the surrounding world returned, but, unfortunately, along with this, the whole range of emotions, especially fear.

"What is wrong with me? Or is there something wrong in Denmark? Or maybe it’s God after all. Well, forgive me! I shouldn't have left London, selling out like Judas. Sorry! Can you hear? Father-in-law at all?

– Are you okay? Can we go? – Iver asked, noticing how Glenda turned pink.

– I think more than yes.

– Great. Then go ahead.

The police station was no longer as empty as the night before. Now it looked like a beehive, everyone was doing something and were busy with some papers, and the boss, like a queen, was collecting everyone’s attention like honey.

– Here is a list of all the married influential businesswomen in Copenhagen. Three hundred and forty people. According to graphological analysis, only ten were suitable. Of these, only three do not have an alibi for last night.

– Wow. When did you get everything done?

– The guys have been working on this issue since early morning. In addition, our database is simply huge.

– But then, why are we going to Rigshospitalet?

– Because none of the list fits.

– What does this mean?

– Bro, give Glenda a package with photos, please. – Iver was driving, and Jack handed over some kind of yellow envelope.

Glenda quickly unpacked it and began to look at the photos of the “criminals.”

One depicted a forty-year-old mother with a curvaceous figure surrounded by five children of the same age. Her happy face shone with confidence in her homely comfort.

On the second one, two retired spouses were cooing; on the wife’s hand there was a ring with a “kohinoor”.

The third was very young, in the photo she stood surrounded by thugs and bodyguards, and her face strongly resembled the daughter of a tycoon. It is obvious that all three shots were taken by a secret observer, since they hardly looked like they were staged.

– And why is none of them suitable?

– Because the bullet was directed from above, which means he was a tall man, taller than the victim by a full foot.

– It could have been one of the beauty's bodyguards in red.

– Perhaps, but as soon as we come to them with interrogations, their lawyers will quickly bury us under a pile of dirty money. Moreover, no one will give us permission to detain without serious evidence.

– Okay, then we have a chance to find out everything at Rigshospitalet.

– Hope.

Gray August Copenhagen looked strangely like London at this time of year. It even seemed to Glenda that she had never gone anywhere, but the nasty Danish language on the walkie-talkie quickly brought her back to reality.

An enormous multi-storey building made of granite tiles with metal crossbars looked menacingly at the three who drove up in a BMW.

A security guard in a black robe and constantly sniffling led them to the third floor to the office of the Hospital Manager. The pale yellow walls, the smell of medicine, and the patients slowly walking down the halls made Glenda remember her mother's death ten years ago. Then she and her father visited her every day after school. The cancer consumed all her tissue, so during the last days of her life, tormented by unbearable pain and living only on morphine, Mrs. Miller was practically unconscious. Glenda cleared her throat, choking on the wet lump in her throat. “You can't cry. I mean business. Everything here is already quite difficult, it would be completely risky to go limp.”

– Wait here, Mr. Johanson will call you himself! – he gloomily abandoned the guard and left.

– Yeah, it’s a gloomy atmosphere here. – Jack shuddered either from the cold or from fear.

– As in all medical institutions. Who likes to be sick? Why are you afraid of white coats? – Iver became interested, because he finally had the opportunity to make fun of his partner.