Arrhythmia Page 16

  “Would you please bandage my arm properly?” I asked, though I hated to do it. “I tried to do it myself, but I can’t quite get it right with one hand.”

  “Sure.”

  I sat down next to him on the couch and extended my poorly bandaged arm. Desiderio peeled back the soaking wet bandage.

  “Jesus, Lena! This needs to be sutured,” he said with a start after one look at the damage.

  “Nonsense,” I countered resolutely. “Butterfly bandages will do perfectly. Here, I even have some.”

  “Well, in my opinion, this wound should be sutured,” he objected. “That’s a doctor’s opinion.”

  “Well, Doctor. In the view of an experienced nurse, this wound is borderline. The wound margins are clean and hardly gape, and the injury is far enough removed from any joint. Therefore, butterfly bandages will contract the skin adequately.”

  We had a small, silent power struggle before Desiderio finally conceded.

  “Fine,” he sighed and dabbed the cut with iodine. “But don’t you dare complain if you end up with a wound-healing defect.”

  “Then I’ll sue you for pain and suffering,” I joked with a grin.

  He shook his head and professionally fastened the butterfly bandages on the wound margins. He applied a compression dressing that no nurse in the world could have improved upon. I was almost impressed.

  To finish it off, he breathed a kiss on the bandage.

  My God, how sweet!

  Feeling awkward, I pulled my arm away from him.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled right away. He moved away from me a little.

  “That’s all right,” I said quickly. “It’s just all so . . . difficult for me. I’m just . . . Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Lena,” he gently interrupted. “You don’t have to explain a thing to me. At least not right now. We’ll talk about everything when you feel ready. Tonight, all I want to do is look after you and be here for you without expecting anything in return. Is that all right with you?”

  I just nodded. If I’d had any tears left, I would have cried out of gratitude. His understanding and sensitivity were overwhelming. It was as an entirely different Desiderio from the one I had previously known.

  “Do you want to sleep now?” he asked, placing the bandages on the table.

  Exhausted, I said yes and got up. I wrestled with myself and my reluctance, but then I quietly asked, “Are you coming?”

  “Yes.”

  I silently led him into the bedroom and slipped under the covers, still dressed in my robe and my turban. Desiderio turned off the light. There was a quiet rustling, and I could feel how he carefully lay down next to me.

  For a while, we simply lay next to one another and said nothing.

  “Desiderio?” I finally whispered in the dark.

  “Hm?”

  “Could you hold me again the way you did earlier?”

  It had taken me a long time to utter the words, and now I listened intently for his answer.

  “As often and for as long as you wish,” he purred, and pulled me into his arms as though he’d only been waiting for me to ask.

  I was a little shocked to find that he had taken off his shirt and I now felt his naked torso. But I quickly overcame my initial shyness.

  He gently stroked my hair, and his skin was so warm and so wonderfully soft that I nestled up to his smooth chest with a contented sigh. I was soon lulled by a wonderful feeling of security.

  “I know how hard it was for you to ask that,” he said softly. “And I appreciate it, little warrioress.”

  “Oh, just shut up,” I mumbled sleepily.

  The last thing I heard before falling soundly asleep was his throaty laugh.

  Chapter 16

  It wasn’t until late the next morning that I awoke from a surprisingly dreamless sleep. I immediately knew that Desiderio was no longer beside me. Still, I cautiously turned my head and examined the other side of the bed, just to make sure. Empty. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated.

  I slowly played the previous day’s events in my mind. I touched my cheek and yes, it hurt like hell. So I hadn’t been dreaming. I had indeed fallen victim to a psychopath in the middle of Wollbach. The growing feeling of panic threatened to strangle me. I forced myself to breathe deeply in and out. No, I was certainly not going to let this asshole turn me into a wreck! My anger toward the rapist grew.

  Anger was good.

  Anxiety and panic were harder to manage than rage.

  I’d rip that pig’s balls off if he ever crossed my path again!

  My fists were clenched when I forced myself out of bed. Everything hurt. My body was virtually one enormous contusion, and tears of pain and fury sprang to my eyes.

  That dirty, cowardly, miserable, repulsive worm!

  Oh yes. Rage was a good thing.

  I got up and noticed that the belt of my robe had come loose and only my back was covered. At once, I thought of Desiderio and me, and I blushed.

  Had I really invited him into my bed when I was almost half-naked? And had I really just clung to his bare chest?

  Jesus, that was definitely way too much naked skin!

  I had no idea what had gotten into me. I could only attribute it to my shock.

  I naturally remembered the incredible feeling of security his embrace had given me. And his special, loving, and sensitive way of caring for me. And, not least, the heroic way in which he had saved me from a terrible crime . . .

  My head spinning with the most bizarre notions, I shuffled toward the bathroom. On the way, I listened for noises in my apartment. But all was silent. No sign of Desiderio anywhere. Comforting. Because I had no idea what I’d do the next time I saw him.

  I looked seriously frightening. Even as a nurse, used to seeing bruises and lacerations, I was shocked. My cheek was swollen to three times its usual size, and my face was peculiarly asymmetrical. To top it off, the swelling flesh gleamed in all shades of red.

  Man, I would have to spend the next few days at home. No makeup in the world would be able to camouflage this kind of shiner.

  My neck didn’t look much better. The colors there, however, confined themselves more to the lilac and dark blue hues. The discoloration surrounded my neck like a scarf. I might be able to cover it with one.

  The dressing on my arm was secure, so I left it in place. Both my knees were covered with scabs and burned like hell with every movement. In addition, the soles of my feet and my exterior ligaments ached.

  All in all, I was a physical disaster. A polytrauma.

  That piece of shit!

  These days, no one needs to suffer more pain than necessary, so I grimly took an ibuprofen.

  After cleaning myself up as best I could, I shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. I was sure that a cup of coffee would make the world look different. I was surprised to find an orange paper bag from a local bakery lying on the counter. Next to it was a handwritten note:

  Good morning,

  I thought it would be better for you to wake up alone so that you could think about everything in peace. Please believe me, it was hard for me to leave you. If you need me, I can be here in an instant. Don’t be shy, little warrioress! Everyone needs a friend now and again.

  Desiderio

  Neatly listed below were his cell phone number, his landline number, his e-mail address, and even his street address. I had to laugh as I peeked into the paper bag from which the most heavenly scents emanated.

  Mmm . . . chocolate croissants!

  Delighted, I eagerly fetched my cell phone and entered Desiderio’s number. I went to “Messages” and stared at the empty display.

  The first thing I thought of typing was:

  Thanks.

  When that seemed insufficient, I added:

  I love
chocolate croissants!

  I pressed “Send” and immediately thought about how stupid that sounded. The man had saved my life, and I thanked him for baked goods? What kind of jerk was I anyway?

  While I was still busy being annoyed with myself, he sent his answer:

  I know.

  That’s it?

  I closed the message app and opened it again, but there were no new messages.

  Crazy man.

  I shook my head and smiled. Then I put my phone aside and almost made a celebration of my little breakfast. Since it involved only one plate and one cup of coffee, it was only a minute or so before I was sitting at my dining table and relishing my first bite into the croissant. My pleasure was somewhat dimmed by the pain of chewing, but I tried to make the best of it.

  I heard a key in the lock of my front door and froze.

  Vera.

  Some time ago, I’d given her a key to my apartment in case of emergencies, but she seemed to think everything was an emergency. Normally, I had no problem with her barging in—at least she saved me the trip to the front door—but on that day, I would rather not have seen my friend.

  “Lena? Yoo-hoo! Are you still sleeping?” she warbled in the hallway. I heard her throw her shoes in the corner and her key chain on the chest.

  “Kitchen!” I answered, realizing it was useless to deny my presence.

  Chattering to herself, Vera turned the corner. “I thought I’d just stop by since I was out and about anyway. I finally returned my aunt’s cake pan—after six months. I’m sure proud of myself. And you? Are you—” She suddenly paused her prattle when she saw my bruised face. “Holy shit! What the hell happened? And don’t you dare tell me some story about falling down the stairs!”

  I tried to explain, but Vera immediately interrupted me.

  “Who did this?” she barked. “Where is that guido? I’m going to kill him! I would never have thought he could do such a thing! That motherfucker! Where is he? I’m going to turn him into antipasti!”

  She looked around wildly, as though he might be hiding somewhere in my tiny kitchen. Vera’s entire petite little body was literally vibrating with rage.

  “Calm down, Rambo,” I said, but my friend slammed her fist on the table.

  “I’m going to make Bolognese out of him!”

  “Hey,” I complained, because her outburst had spilled my coffee. “It wasn’t Desiderio!”

  “It wasn’t?” Vera huffed.

  “No. On the contrary.” I grabbed a cloth and wiped up the coffee puddle. “Sit down. No one is turning anyone into Italian food, OK? You’re stressing me out and that’s the last thing I need right now!”

  Vera plopped down in a chair and stared at me in anticipation. Once the table was clean, I took a deep breath and related the events of the previous evening. Her eyes grew large, then small, and then even larger as she silently listened in horror.

  “Desiderio chased the guy away and brought me home,” I finished, with my voice shaking, and wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye.

  Vera jumped up and took me in her arms.

  “Oh my God, sweetie! I am so sorry! I don’t even know what to say.”

  Her empathy was engulfing. She was almost as shocked as I was myself. We wept quietly until I pushed her away with a pained smile.

  “Enough. My coffee is getting cold,” I sniffled.

  “OK.” She stroked my head one more time and sat back down next to me. “And it was really the dude from the dance floor?”

  I nodded mutely.

  “That piece of shit! So what do we do now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we have to notify the police so that this asshole is held accountable!” she exclaimed and again smacked the innocent table.

  “What good would that do? I don’t even know his name. All I know is that he’s not from here and that he was staying with a friend. And that he has a laceration over his left brow from my stiletto.”

  Vera rubbed her hands together. “Good job, Lena. If he went to the hospital to get that treated, then we’ve got him!”

  I hadn’t even thought of that.

  “Right,” I finally agreed slowly. That was enough confirmation for my friend.

  “All right, then!” She jumped up. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to the police station.”

  I made a face. “May I please finish my breakfast first? And maybe get dressed?” I wasn’t overly excited by the thought of having to tell strange police officers all about my attack.

  Vera looked at my robe and acquiesced.

  “If you must . . . But in that case, I’m going to make myself some coffee as well.” She headed straight to the cabinet, got a mug, and aimed for the coffeemaker. “Where did you get this breakfast anyway? Ah!”

  Before I could even answer, she had gotten hold of exhibit A—Desiderio’s message—and triumphantly held it in the air.

  “That’s private,” I scolded, but she already had her nose in the piece of paper and read the few lines with glowing eyes.

  “Oh, does this mean the cutie slept here?” she breathed, pressing the piece of paper against her breast.

  What was that earlier about guidos?

  My ears turned red, and I hid my face behind my coffee.

  “Lena! Call him!” She slammed the paper on the table in front of me. “Now!”

  “Man!” I shouted, because she’d once again managed to spill the precious black liquid. “Do you not want me to have my coffee this morning or what?”

  “To hell with your coffee! This is much more important!” Vera picked up the slip of paper and read it again in case she might have missed something important the first time.

  “Oh my God, is this romantic. Little warrioress?”

  “Oh, just hush,” I grumbled.

  “But why? That must be the most beautiful term of endearment I’ve ever heard.”

  I thought so too, but I was still embarrassed.

  “Now call him already,” Vera demanded. She made herself a cup of coffee from my pride and joy, the fully automatic coffeemaker.

  “It’s fine. I already texted him,” I said to get her off my back.

  “You . . . Great, Lena! I’m delighted,” she answered sarcastically. “The guy saves your life and you deign to send him a lousy text.”

  Insulted, I pursed my lips, but I knew she was right.

  Vera studied the message. Maybe she was hoping to find a hidden code or something. “Aw, this is darling. By the way, I was the one who sent the cutie after you. You should thank me.”

  “Sure,” I mumbled.

  She chose to ignore that. “He even wrote down his e-mail address for you. He wants you to be able to reach him under any circumstances.”

  “I really wanted to send him a fax, but unfortunately, I couldn’t find the fax number. And so a text had to suffice,” I said seriously.

  My friend rolled her eyes. “You really are awful, you know?”

  “Yes.” I sighed and stood up. “Someone has to keep up with you after all. I’m going to get dressed.”

  And with that, I left Vera to her decoding.

  Sergeant Niederhuber was obviously even more nervous than I was. While I was describing the circumstances of the crime, he shifted back and forth on his chair and eagerly scribbled notes. The attack’s brutality evidently far exceeded that of the average crime in Wollbach.

  “Wow, that’s really something,” Niederhuber said appreciatively when I had detailed everything that happened. “Really something.”

  He looked more enthused than appalled. I didn’t quite know whether to feel offended or flattered.

  He cleared his throat. “That laceration is a great lead. We’re going to contact all hospitals right away.

  Vera stretched and sat up straighter, pleased b
y the praise for her idea. “And he also has a conspicuous tattoo on his neck. A snake,” she added eagerly. “Such a striking physical feature should make it easy to identify the perpetrator, shouldn’t it?”

  I felt a little like I was in the middle of a CSI episode.

  And indeed, Niederhuber appeared thrilled. “A snake tattoo? Yes, that’s really helpful! And on the neck as well. Very conspicuous.”

  Man, was I ever glad to have chosen that particular dude as my perpetrator . . .

  “Could you give me any more personal description?” the officer asked.

  “Of course,” Vera answered in my place, and promptly began describing the rapist. Since she mentioned every detail, I just silently nodded in agreement and let her talk. Niederhuber didn’t care which one of us spoke, because he was busy taking down the description.

  Once he had recorded everything, he took his pen and cheerfully tapped on his report. “So, this really was a rather conspicuous character, wouldn’t you say? Ms. Berger, do you think you could stop by again tomorrow? I’ll get the sketch artist from Passau to come by, because we don’t have one here. We never really need one in Wollbach, y’know? Hee-hee. At any rate, I’m going to need the statement of Di . . . uh, oh yes, DiCastello. Will you let him know or would you like us to contact him?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said quickly. “Does he have to come in today?”

  “No, tomorrow will be fine. But you should get yourself a doctor’s certificate regarding your injuries. If there is a trial, the judge will want to see that.”

  I made a face but nodded. “OK.”

  “What happened to the weapon the perpetrator used? Did he take it with him?”

  “Hm . . . I’m not sure,” I said slowly and thought for a moment. “No, he didn’t take the knife with him. At least not at first. Maybe he came back later for it? No idea. We didn’t think to look.”

  Niederhuber stopped me with a wave of his hand. “We’re going to go search the crime scene. Forensics, so to speak, hee-hee. So, I have everything I need. Is there anything else?”