The killer's art

74

The house stood at the intersection of two residential streets in an idyllic neighbourhood, close to the school in central Roma.

It was nine thirty in the morning. He had purposely waited until the worst of the morning rush hour was over, with people going off to work, children heading to day-care centres or to school, owners walking their dogs and coming out to pick up the morning newspapers. By now an air of calm had settled over the neighbourhood, and the street was quiet.

From where he was standing he could see the woman moving from room to room on the ground floor of the house. That must be Emma Winarve. Discreetly he took out his binoculars. He was hiding behind some shrubbery so that he wouldn’t be seen from any of the well-tended houses lining the street.

She was beautiful, dressed in a long, pink bathrobe made of some soft fabric. Her hair was sandy coloured, her eyes dark under distinctive eyebrows. She had high cheekbones and regular, classical features. No longer really young, of course, but still attractive. Tall and stately. He wondered how strong she was.

He saw her bend down and pick up the child. The next minute she appeared upstairs. He could just make out her shape as she moved from room to room. Through the cold lenses of his binoculars, he could follow her movements. Now she was leaning down, presumably to put the baby to bed. She stood there for a moment, doing something.

Then her bathrobe fell away, and he caught a quick glimpse of her bare back before she disappeared from view. She must have gone into the bathroom to take a shower. That was perfect. Swiftly he crossed the street, opened the gate and resolutely entered the property as if it were the most natural thing in the world. From a distance he could tell that the front door wasn’t locked. Great, he thought. That would only normally happen way out in the country.

He looked around before he opened the door. Not a soul as far as the eye could see. Quickly and quietly he slipped inside, finding himself in a messy hall filled with clothes, shoes and gloves all jumbled together. He could smell coffee and toast. Deep inside of him a feeling surged up that confused him for a few seconds. He made a concentrated effort to regain control of himself. Stay focused, he thought. Right now everything depended on staying focused. He peeked inside the kitchen. A radio was on, playing music at a low volume; there were dirty dishes in the sink and crumbs on the table. He made his way into the living room, where two large sofas faced each other. He saw a fireplace, a TV, rugs, books and newspapers, a bowl of fruit and a pair of ceramic candlesticks with candles that had burned down. Again that feeling welled up inside him; he pushed it back.

As he climbed the stairs, he heard the shower running. She was singing. He crept over to the door, which had been left half open. It was a big bathroom with two sinks, side by side, a toilet on the opposite wall of the room, a bathtub with a jacuzzi, and a shower booth with frosted glass. He could see the woman’s body in silhouette through the glass. Her loud, clear voice bounced off the walls.

The feeling came over him again. His eyes burned. Suddenly he was furious at her. There she stood, naked and beautiful, singing without a care in the world. She had no idea what was going on around her. What was happening inside of him. Fucking idiot. Rage shot up into his forehead, clouding his vision. He would show her. He gripped the piano wire between his fingers. Closed his eyes for a second to concentrate before he attacked.

Suddenly he was interrupted by a sound behind him. A few cries that threatened to become sobs. The woman didn’t seem to notice. She kept on singing while the shower water poured out.

Abruptly he turned around, slipped out of the bathroom and into the room where the sound was coming from. In the darkness, with the blinds pulled down, stood a cot, and in it lay the baby, now crying louder.

In a flash he picked up the little girl, wrapped in her blanket, and dashed down the stairs to the ground floor and out into the hall.

He could still hear the woman singing as he closed the front door behind him.