I have always been an ordinary guy who appreciates the simplicity of things. My dad used to say the intelligence of a man is defined by his well-thought plan of action, an action that facilitates human life and enables progress. As a child, I had many dreams, which were primarily highlighted by my interest in comics and science fiction. Superman was more of a disappointment as he was born a superhero, but on the other hand, Spiderman convinced me that you could mutate into a superhero. Therefore, as a child, I almost poisoned myself with bleach. Then along came Batman, who had no powers and was fueled with anger and grief triggered by his dark past. But I am not like that. My past – my childhood was okay, despite not having many friends, and yet I cannot express what is bothering me so much. Images of all these superheroes continued to haunt me, along with this constant urge to accomplish something worthy of recognition.
My wife Colleen is a simple woman, too, except that she does not have these urges. Her whole life, she has only intended to be a good wife and mother, which she is, of course. And for that reason, I cannot share my sentiments with her, as they would taint her.
My working hours vary a lot, as it’s fully determined by the person that I am investigating. A lot of times, I feel more like a justified stalker or someone who is looking to steal a person’s life by keeping track of every single keystroke. I prefer the latter, especially if the subject is of personal interest, like my latest investigation.
He is called Matthias, a Swede and a current law student at New York Law School. According to his profile, he’d received two warnings for consuming marijuana, followed by a suspension based on an apparent physical assault on one of his law professors, Mr. Bateson. However, the final judgment was put on hold, as only one witness had seen a masked figure on campus. Currently, Matthias is employed as a part-time Swedish-speaking consultant. And now I’m hired to investigate his private life. If no further evidence comes to light, the university must take him back on the course. Still, according to the Law School principal, he is determined that Matthias is part of some illegitimate underground mass.
On my first day of investigation two days ago, I gathered that he has an American girlfriend, Lauren Cregan – a pretty girl with short dark hair. He picked her up from the Forensic Science School, and they went for a romantic dinner in Times Square. I took a few innocent photographs.
He made several private phone calls in her absence, but in her presence, I saw him dismissing the calls. Judging by his facial expression he is secretive, but at the same time, his pale blue eyes express some sort of a delicacy, which particularly comes to the surface in Lauren’s presence. His golden hair suggests some fairy tale innocence juxtaposed with Lauren’s dark hair, which makes her a modernized version of Snow White.
They ended up making love at her place just outside Queens. I began to think about my former loves and how they’d left me empty by attempting to challenge a side of me that simply didn’t exist. I’m not sure if a person lives for another person. Alternatively, you do need a person for balance. Maybe Matthias would agree with me. I never had a friend with whom to share such a sentiment. Of course, he is hiding something, something Lauren isn’t even aware of, because, she, too, wouldn’t understand like Colleen never would.
Last night he stayed at hers as well. Now watching them leave her apartment together the next morning, parting in different directions, I realize that I haven’t been home at all to sleep. I take a few more pictures. Matthias is walking towards the subway to go to work while she is heading to the bus station. I don’t know why I choose to follow her for a while instead of going home to freshen up before my appointment.
I’m at New York Law School to report the first day of the investigation to my client, principal McCain, who had distributed Matthias’s documents one week prior to the investigation start. To my surprise, my own boss, Chad Hallowell, is present at that meeting as well, waiting for me to sit down next to him.
“Hi Ed,” he says.
Further in the back in the room behind Principal McCain, a grim-looking man is scrutinizing me.
“Mr. Olsson, nice to see you. May I introduce you to our renowned law professor, Mr. Bateson.”
He merely gives me a brief nod, or he might not have nodded at all; I don’t know; he doesn’t appear human to me; more an illusion arose from a nightmare. He’s bald, sharp-headed. His eyes are two slits, which the sunshine has never penetrated.
“As you may know, Mr. Olsson, we are very concerned,” the principal says.
I throw a brief look at Chad.
“Why so, Mr. McCain?” I ask.
McCain moves closer to the American flag hanging just above the fake fireplace made of plastic. The investigation has just started, and they are not giving me enough time for in-depth implementation.
“Are you a patriot, Mr. Olsson?”
I am stumped.
“Uhm, sure. I vote. I work. I pay tax. I love this country.”
“That’s good to hear.”
From the corner of my eyes, I see that Chad has glanced at me as if unsettled by my response.
“You are of Swedish heritage, aren’t you, Mr. Olsson?”
“Yes, my grandfather moved to New York in the 20s.”
“Ah, the golden age!” he sighs.
There is a long pause, almost evolving into an awkward silence, but I’m unsure of what to say first, despite knowing their trust in me as an investigator is at stake for whatever reason.
“Mr. McCain,” I say, “on the first few days of investigation, I can only report that phone calls were made in the absence of Mr. Arlberg’s girlfriend, who is a forensic student…,”
Both the grim man and Mr. McCain choke up an ironic laugh.
“They spend much time together,” I continue, “but I assure you that I will make a closer move to speed up the investigation.”
He sits down at his desk, now facing Chad and me.
“I appreciate your help, Mr. Olsson. You Swedish folks are such a neutral bunch; you always mind your own business.”
“Thank you for the compliment. However, I assure you I will do my job,” I say and notice Chad’s nervous twitch from the side of my eyes.
“Good man,” McCain says. “I trust your skills, Olsson. Please be aware that this law school has certain principles that all students and staff must honor and respect. We cannot tolerate people who don’t.”
On the way out with Chad, he appears more at ease again. I light a cigarette. He does not utter a word until we both enter my car.
“Lordi, that was tense!” he blurts out.
“What the hell just happened in there, Chad? What happened before I came?” I start the engine.
“Well, listen, I’m under a hell of a lot of pressure. Maybe I should’ve never given you this case.”
I turn down the engine.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“We’re both aware that they want Arlberg down. So just focus on that.”
“Of course. After gaining evidence.”
He looks at me again in disbelief like he did inside the principal’s room.
“Sure,” he says.
My presentiments signal something bad, and I’m sure Chad feels the same way.
“You know he was asking whether you were a Swedish patriot, right?”
I dig my cigarette into the ashtray.
That meeting left a bad taste in my mouth.
Since Matthias won’t finish work until 5 pm, I’ve been watching Lauren at the public library in Manhattan. She is a decent girl with ambitions, someone who truly knows what she wants and wouldn’t give it up for anyone. According to her records, her dad’s in prison for murder. I wonder what further secrets she has got and whether Matthias knows about them. Matthias himself doesn’t have much of a record in the States. The only pieces of information that stand out are that his dad was Christer Arlberg, the first Swedish astronaut to enter space in 2006. Matthias’s excellence is marked by his fantastic grades in science, like father like son, and yet he chose to study law.
Despite sitting two tables away, I can smell the scent of maple in her hair and I hear the little breaths leaving her nostrils. Her mesmerizing slim figure would make her a very delicate dancer. I can’t help imagining her slowly taking her clothes off while walking towards me on the table, dedicating me the attention that I’ve been looking for all my life. Before dwelling too deeply on this, I try to focus on the newspaper with the latest updates on the Menzies murders. Lewis Menzies is New York’s most wanted prostitute killer (both men and women). His style is to skin the females alive and castrate the males, followed by a stab in the chest after a final prayer to set their souls free.
By the time Lauren leaves the library to meet one of her girlfriends for dinner, I realize that it’s almost 5 pm and Matthias should finish work soon.
.
.
.
by P-chan (c) 2012
-Excerpt from short story collection 2025-
For J.A.: I was in a hotel room in Edinburgh, putting myself under pressure so I’d finish this story in time for your birthday. But you had better things to do in London. I don’t think you ever finished reading this—maybe one day.
