Copenhagen Noir

He lets go, and slowly I get to my feet. The tree limb has poked a hole in my coat, down at my lower ribs. My phone is halfway down the slope. Even from here I can see the number 1 on the display. That’s as far as I got. Kris offers a hand, and I shove it away. I can get up by myself. I just have to catch my breath.

“Kris, you fat bastard!” I stick a hand in under my sweater. My back is sore, but it’s not any worse than that. Fucking asshole.

“He’ll come back,” he says, and looks away.

I can smell her long before I reach her. It hasn’t left me, the smell, it followed me yesterday when Kris and I left her. I tried washing it off but it was still there. My mother didn’t seem to notice anything, maybe it was just me. When I got up this morning it was still there. It was worse on my coat. The hole in the back is bigger than I thought at first, or else it’s ripped out more, but it’s the only coat I have. I put an extra sweater on to keep warm.

I meet Kris on the lawn by the booster station. We haven’t planned to meet here. We didn’t make any plans at all after yesterday. He’s smiling strangely. Both his hands are in his pockets. I can practically see from his look that the knife is back in his inside pocket. “Morning,” he says, and smiles.

I say nothing, just walk past him, farther up toward the booster station and the railroad behind it. Why is he so happy? He follows, I hear him a few meters behind me. We keep moving along the path. He says nothing, but I can feel his smile knifing me in the back. Why is he smiling this way? He would have said if the killer had been here. I could ask him, but I don’t want to. I don’t turn, I just keep walking. And he follows a few meters behind.

“Get the hell out of here!” I yell, while I run toward the crow with a rock in my hand. I don’t even come close to hitting it, but it’s enough to scare the crow. It flies over to the other side of the body for cover. I pick up another rock. The crow takes off again. This time it lands on the edge of the barrier. It looks down at us. Kris plods along over to me, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem especially surprised. He’s not smiling anymore, but he’s not mad or all worked up.

“Shhh,” he says abruptly. “People can hear you when you yell that way.”

“Yeah? Fuck them. How many people you think yell ‘Get the hell out’ in one day in Valby?”

He shrugs and plods on, over to the body. The smell is much worse now. It feels warmer too. That, or else it’s because I’m wearing an extra sweater. The crow still sits there. I throw the rock, but it sees it coming. It flies up and away, disappears between the trees. If it has found her, other crows will for sure be coming along too. I look up. There are a few dark spots high up in the gray sky. But they fly away.

“Fuck! Look at this!” Kris is standing at the body. I stand beside him and look down. Her eyes, which had been staring at us before, staring at nothing, are punctured and almost gone.

My hand flies up to cover my own eyes, but I lower it immediately. It still smells like death here. The dark spots up in the sky are back. How well do crows see? Can they smell her from up there?

“Kris,” I say slowly, afraid that my voice is shaking.

“We’re not calling yet,” he says. “First he’s got to come, we’ll grab him, then we call.”

“Kris, if we let her lay here much longer, there won’t be anything left. Those crows are coming back as soon as we leave.”

“This was your idea. We find the killer and we’re heroes. It was your idea.”

“I know it. But fuck it, hey, I was wrong. If he doesn’t come back now, he’s not coming back.”

“No way. He’ll be back. It’s like you said. He’s got to get off one more time.”

I don’t know why he keeps going on about what I said. He doesn’t usually do that. But I don’t dare say anything more. Not after yesterday. Instead I bend over, and without looking too closely at her messed-up face I grab the blanket and wrap it around her head. Close and tight. I don’t want to take chances.

“What are you doing?” Kris asks. Again, that nice and easy voice.

“I’m covering her up. He doesn’t have to get as far as taking his dick out or anything. We just need to get him, right? It doesn’t really matter about her. If she lays here much longer, the crows will eat her. If we get the guy, the police or their fucking CSI team or whatever will take care of the rest. Okay? You’ll still get to be the hero.”

Kris doesn’t answer, and I take that to mean it’s okay. I feel him staring at me while I wrap the blanket around her. The blanket isn’t nearly big enough, and after I’ve wrapped her head up I notice her legs sticking out from the knees down. I think about starting over, but I leave her like she is. Protecting her head is the most important thing right now. Protect the open wounds. Crows’ beaks aren’t strong enough to rip holes in skin. Only eagles and vultures and that kind of bird can. Crows need an open wound. Or an eye.