Glenda

— 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?