Conversation · The Deserter

"What about them?"

There! He's already admitted to it! Just ask...

"One more thing, Mr. Dros -- the dried flowers. On the roof."

"One more thing about her..."

"That fucking whore..." He waves his hand, with sudden anger. Something comes over him...

A strange, uncalled for rage he seems to have no control over.

"And the door? The steel door in the kitchen, how do you open that?"

"I can just walk in the hostel now, after a good wash. They all think I'm an antisocial, a vagrant. Closing hour is a good time. The kitchen's empty then."

"Yeah." Cuno nods knowingly. "The lightning gets shit going. Speedfreaks fuckin' in the bushes..."

He must knows his way around a creaky floorboard and a rusty hinge on a door...

"How did you get in there? The hidden pinball workshop?"

"You've been through the secret route behind the Whirling-in-Rags." (Move on.)

"The bruises on her body -- any chance you've seen them through a hole in a wall?"

"I've seen her like that, yes," he nods. "Cutting those drugs of hers into little lines with a knife, masturbating..."

Everything in him fills with impossible longing, all at once.

"Did you make that hole?"

"With a clip point knife."

Good for listening in too. For hearing the moaning and the snorts.

"You made that hole?"

"Oh yes," he smacks his lips. "Cutting those drugs of hers into little lines with a knife, masturbating..."

He must have... climbed to the roof maybe?

"You climbed, right? You climbed behind her window, like the CRAB-MAN?"

"What are you talking about -- 'crab-man'?" He waves you off with a cough.

"You've been through the secret route behind the Whirling-in-Rags." The lieutenant interrupts.

"I've been through all of Martinaise -- every nook and cranny."

Thank god, the lieutenant is picking it up...

"But that nook too?" The lieutenant does not let you finish.

"Another question about her."

"Her..." he repeats, with strange slowness.

A little pain there. A prick.

"What ways? Tell me!"

"Not in this lifetime droite." He waves you off with a cough, his thoughts elsewhere...

On her.

This one's gone. Make up somehow, connect something else, fast!

You lost it...

You're a bad detective. Lazy and bad.

One little thing missed and I drown in anxiety...

Rightly so. Fix this now! Push on, extra carefully!

Dive for other clues now, like you always do. Make it up in the deep end...

As you should be, son, this is pitiful. Make up for it now!

No. It's cool. I've already got him. I don't need to be perfect.

No it's not. Fix this now! Move on extra carefully! Be incredibly minute!

Is it? You don't feel like it is. You feel like you should make up for it by scrutinizing him extra carefully...

Of course it's not okay. Make up for it now, maximum performance!

"You've been through some secret route shit, huh? Inside the Whirling-in-Rags, creepin' around?"

"I've been through all of Martinaise -- every nook and cranny."

Thank god, the kid is picking it up...

"Yeah, but that one too, right? Secret Whirling shit?"

"How did you get close enough to see her bruises, Mr. Dros?"

"I have my ways." A cracked smile appears on his dried white lips.

"You climbed, right? You climbed behind her window?"

"How good are those fucking eyes of yours -- you use binoculars?"

"Did you leave the dried May bells behind her window?"

"I did. I shouldn't have. It was a mistake..." A tremor passes the right side of his face.

"Why did you?"

"I was there one night and she was crying. Like a child, in the corner of her room -- on the floor. I'd never seen her do that before."

"When was this?"

"The day after I'd killed him."

"And you brought her May bells?"

"Yes," he looks at the charred logs. "I don't know why I do the things I do anymore."