found in a jiffy.”
At this point, Assad’s frown deepened. “Found in a what, did you say, Carl? Where is that?”
Carl sighed. Perhaps he ought to send his little helper over to see his ex soon. She could teach him idioms that would make his wide eyes roll in his head.
He glanced at his watch. “So his name’s Poul, is that what we’re saying? Well, I’m off on a break, then. Fifteen minutes, and when I get back, you’ve found him, OK?”
Rose did her best to ignore Carl’s tone of voice, though her nostrils flared visibly. “I’m sure Poul’s an excellent candidate. Or Piet, or Peer with two ‘e’s, Pehr with an ‘h,’ or Petr without an ‘e.’ Or it could be Pete, or Phil. The possibilities are endless, Carl. We’re multiethnic now, as well, so there’s all sorts of new names flying around. Paco, Pall, Page, Pasi, Pedr, Pepe, Pere, Pero, Peru…”
“All right, Rose, for Chrissake, that’ll do. Anyone would think this was a register office. And who’s Peru, anyway, when he’s at home? I thought that was a country, not a bloody name…”
“…and Peti, Ping, Pino, Pius…”
“Pius? Yeah, why not bring the popes in while we’re at it? They’re male, at least…”
“Pons, Pran, Ptah, Puck, Pyry.”
“Are you finished?”
There was no answer.
Carl considered once again the signature on the wall. Whatever else he might think, it was hard to conclude otherwise than that the letter had been written by someone whose name began with “P.” So who was this “P”? Piet Hein was hardly a candidate. Who, then?
“The first name may be a compound, Rose. Are you sure there’s nohyphen in there?” He gestured toward the blur. “In which case it could be Poul-Erik, or Paco-Peti, or Pili-Ping.” He tried to transfer his smile to Rose’s face, but she was far away and impervious. Sod it, then.
“All right, should we let this magnified message look after itself for the moment, so we can get on with more important matters and Rose can get her poor nails painted black again?” Carl suggested. “We can hardly avoid coming back to it every now and then. Maybe some bright ideas will emerge. Like when you leave the crossword lying around in the bathroom for the next time you need to go.”
Rose and Assad studied him with wrinkled brows. Crosswords on the toilet? Obviously neither of them spent as much time in there as he did.
“No, hang on a minute. I don’t think we
can
leave it stuck to that wall. We need to get through the door. Part of our archive’s behind it, in case you’d forgotten. All those old, unsolved cases. You’ve heard of them, I suppose?” He turned on his heels and headed for his office and the comfy chair that awaited him. Rose’s ice pick of a voice halted him in his tracks after only two steps.
“You look at me, Carl.”
He turned with caution and saw her pointing back toward her work of art.
“If you think my nails look like crap, I don’t care. Get it? And besides that, do you see that word up there at the very top?”
“Yes, Rose, I do. In fact it’s about the only thing I can say with any certainty that I do see. It very plainly says ‘HELP.’”
With that, she waggled a blackened finger menacingly in his direction. “Good. Because that’s the word you’ll be wanting to scream if you remove so much as a single sheet of that paper. Do you get my drift?”
He released his eyes from her rebellious gaze and waved Assad to his side.
He would have to put his foot down before long.
7
Whenever she looked in the mirror, she always thought she deserved better from life. Nicknames such as Peach and Thyregod School’s Sleeping Beauty were still part of the way she saw herself. When she took off her clothes, she could still be pleasantly surprised by her body. But what good was that if she was alone?
The distance between them had become too great. He never saw her anymore.
When he came home, she would say he wasn’t to leave her again and that
At this point, Assad’s frown deepened. “Found in a what, did you say, Carl? Where is that?”
Carl sighed. Perhaps he ought to send his little helper over to see his ex soon. She could teach him idioms that would make his wide eyes roll in his head.
He glanced at his watch. “So his name’s Poul, is that what we’re saying? Well, I’m off on a break, then. Fifteen minutes, and when I get back, you’ve found him, OK?”
Rose did her best to ignore Carl’s tone of voice, though her nostrils flared visibly. “I’m sure Poul’s an excellent candidate. Or Piet, or Peer with two ‘e’s, Pehr with an ‘h,’ or Petr without an ‘e.’ Or it could be Pete, or Phil. The possibilities are endless, Carl. We’re multiethnic now, as well, so there’s all sorts of new names flying around. Paco, Pall, Page, Pasi, Pedr, Pepe, Pere, Pero, Peru…”
“All right, Rose, for Chrissake, that’ll do. Anyone would think this was a register office. And who’s Peru, anyway, when he’s at home? I thought that was a country, not a bloody name…”
“…and Peti, Ping, Pino, Pius…”
“Pius? Yeah, why not bring the popes in while we’re at it? They’re male, at least…”
“Pons, Pran, Ptah, Puck, Pyry.”
“Are you finished?”
There was no answer.
Carl considered once again the signature on the wall. Whatever else he might think, it was hard to conclude otherwise than that the letter had been written by someone whose name began with “P.” So who was this “P”? Piet Hein was hardly a candidate. Who, then?
“The first name may be a compound, Rose. Are you sure there’s nohyphen in there?” He gestured toward the blur. “In which case it could be Poul-Erik, or Paco-Peti, or Pili-Ping.” He tried to transfer his smile to Rose’s face, but she was far away and impervious. Sod it, then.
“All right, should we let this magnified message look after itself for the moment, so we can get on with more important matters and Rose can get her poor nails painted black again?” Carl suggested. “We can hardly avoid coming back to it every now and then. Maybe some bright ideas will emerge. Like when you leave the crossword lying around in the bathroom for the next time you need to go.”
Rose and Assad studied him with wrinkled brows. Crosswords on the toilet? Obviously neither of them spent as much time in there as he did.
“No, hang on a minute. I don’t think we
can
leave it stuck to that wall. We need to get through the door. Part of our archive’s behind it, in case you’d forgotten. All those old, unsolved cases. You’ve heard of them, I suppose?” He turned on his heels and headed for his office and the comfy chair that awaited him. Rose’s ice pick of a voice halted him in his tracks after only two steps.
“You look at me, Carl.”
He turned with caution and saw her pointing back toward her work of art.
“If you think my nails look like crap, I don’t care. Get it? And besides that, do you see that word up there at the very top?”
“Yes, Rose, I do. In fact it’s about the only thing I can say with any certainty that I do see. It very plainly says ‘HELP.’”
With that, she waggled a blackened finger menacingly in his direction. “Good. Because that’s the word you’ll be wanting to scream if you remove so much as a single sheet of that paper. Do you get my drift?”
He released his eyes from her rebellious gaze and waved Assad to his side.
He would have to put his foot down before long.
7
Whenever she looked in the mirror, she always thought she deserved better from life. Nicknames such as Peach and Thyregod School’s Sleeping Beauty were still part of the way she saw herself. When she took off her clothes, she could still be pleasantly surprised by her body. But what good was that if she was alone?
The distance between them had become too great. He never saw her anymore.
When he came home, she would say he wasn’t to leave her again and that
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