Nura approached the man in the brown chair. She could hear how the press was shouting outside, “Has this woman been murdered by the Eyebrow Killer? Does she have any connection to the Goldsmyth family? We want more information if there’s a serial killer in our city.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I'm the Detective Inspector of SCU, and my name is Nuralain Cocasse,” Nura said. “I know you’re not in the mood for any questions, and this is the last thing I would want you to go through at this moment, but I need to ask you these questions. And if you want us to have any chance of catching the person who did this to your wife, I need to ask you now.”
“Okay,” the man replied, rubbing his eyes.
“I’ll sit down here...” She sat across from him on the chair. “First of all, tell me your name and who the victim was to you?” Nura asked.
“My name is David Levi. And my lo... Eva,” the man said, struggling.
“Sorry? I didn't catch that.”
“Eva… the dead angel is my wife, Eva.”
“When was the last time you saw her alive? Please, think, it’s very important.”
“I didn’t come home yesterday. I’m working as a security guard at the Pulitzer Hotel. When last did I see her? That was in the morning; I left after 10:00 a.m.,” the man replied.
“Do you know if Eva was meant to be meeting somebody? Was a party or some celebration planned? We noticed a lot of bottles and food.”
“Ehmm…” the man thought while wiping tears from his eyes. “She told me she was going to meet her friends. Her new friends she met at the pool. I think one of them was a young woman, a mental coach. Her name was Olivia. Don’t remember the other names.”
“This Olivia, how can I reach out to her?”
“I don’t know. She is not my friend. I haven’t seen her. My wife promised to invite Olivia to my birthday in November but before that…” The man began to cry again. “She spent a lot of time with her. You see, my wife had a mental health issues, and Olivia helped her enormously. Eva opened a gallery in the Center and was truly happy lately. That's all I know, Detective...”
“Okay. It’s enough for now, David. I will go out of your way but leave you with our community liaison officer, Howard. Do you have any place to stay, by the way? You can’t stay here tonight.”
“It’s morning soon, but yeah… I’ll go to my brother. He lives in Oud-West.”
“I presume you’d want to know how the investigation is going, and here is the card of the officer in charge who can answer all your questions. Her name is Zanna Howe. She is a member of my team,” Nura paused. The thought struck her. “Did Eva ever mention anything specifically about this woman? Any detail will help.”
“They often met in coffee shops, centrally. Sometimes, she went to Olivia’s house, somewhere far away, for the day, or even overnight.”
“How far away?”
“Maybe a two-hour drive...”
“And you never were worried? You said yourself you never met this woman...”
“Yes, I was worried in the beginning, but Eva seemed so happy.”
“And you never saw any pictures of this Olivia? Or a photo of them together?”
“No. Their friendship was new, only three-four months or so...”
Nura was about to leave when Mr. Levi spoke again. “I heard some members of those sharks out there asking if the Eyebrow Killer was behind this murder. Who is that? Did he kill my Eva?”
Nura could feel her stomach start to growl; she was thinking about how to tell the man that his wife had died as a result of police ‘hibernation.’
She sighed and answered, “We have been investigating a homicide in Central Amsterdam. It happened three days ago; a young woman was killed in her apartment. It seems the same person murdered your wife, but we can’t be certain without investigating further. Don’t listen to the press... they’re just looking to sell their stories. To them, this death is only business.”
“Promise me you will catch this sick man and punish him... Promise me you will make him pay for what he did to my Eva.”
“My entire team is putting in their best effort, Mr. Levi.”
With that, Nura stepped out of the apartment, ordered the liaison officer to assist Mr. Levi with anything he needed, and went to the parking lot. She got into her car and screamed at the top of her lungs while hitting the steering wheel, causing the car horn to go off every time her hands came down on it. She was relieved that the press had left, and the streets were empty. When there was nothing left to let out, Nura checked her watch—it showed 4:00 a.m.—and called her mother.
Her mother lived in Broken Hill, Australia, with her new boyfriend, Max. She picked up the phone immediately.
“Nuralain, love, I’m so glad you decided to call. I have some news to share…”
“You’re divorcing Max? Am I right?” Nura interrupted.
“Why on Earth would I do that? He’s a wonderful man. No, we’ve decided to move to Spain. Great, right? I’ll be closer to you, and we can meet each other every month. Maybe you can even get a transfer to a police station there.”
“Ha, and ha,” Nura said sarcastically. “Is this a joke?”
“No, not at all. We’ll be ready next month. We’ve already found the perfect house. Are you happy?”
“Yes.” Nura rolled her eyes.
“How’s your day? Life? Health? Any boyfriends?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I feel good…” Nura lied.
Her watch showed 5:15 a.m. when she finished talking to her mother. She pressed the ignition button, and as the engine roared to life, a familiar, sandpaper-like voice growled from the back seat.
“A bit more, and I’d die of natural causes, Nuralain, dearest…”
Explore the chaotic, absurd, and provocative world of Witold Gombrowicz, one of Poland’s most distinctive writers, known for his themes of immaturity, masks, form, and social rebellion.
I’ve been poking around in No Clue Land website, moving things, adding things, and generally pretending I have some plan... Three new DEPARTMENTS have appeared: TRAPPED IN FLESH (a tribute to the weirdness of having a body), WRITERS UNDER OBSERVATION (notes about writers and writing styles), SOMETHING HAPPENED (serialized fiction: crime or comedy).
Newsletter - sends once a week or bi-weekly (it will be mostly about health - from Trapped in Flesh Department). Side effects may include mild discomfort, and the sudden urge to Google your own organs or new words.
Nura and Gail arrive at a new crime scene where the clues are strange, the victim’s eyebrows are missing again, and the case is starting to feel deeply personal. As the investigation unfolds, Nura grows more convinced that something far more disturbing is happening beneath the surface.
CHAPTER 10
Nura approached the man in the brown chair. She could hear how the press was shouting outside, “Has this woman been murdered by the Eyebrow Killer? Does she have any connection to the Goldsmyth family? We want more information if there’s a serial killer in our city.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I'm the Detective Inspector of SCU, and my name is Nuralain Cocasse,” Nura said. “I know you’re not in the mood for any questions, and this is the last thing I would want you to go through at this moment, but I need to ask you these questions. And if you want us to have any chance of catching the person who did this to your wife, I need to ask you now.”
“Okay,” the man replied, rubbing his eyes.
“I’ll sit down here...” She sat across from him on the chair. “First of all, tell me your name and who the victim was to you?” Nura asked.
“My name is David Levi. And my lo... Eva,” the man said, struggling.
“Sorry? I didn't catch that.”
“Eva… the dead angel is my wife, Eva.”
“When was the last time you saw her alive? Please, think, it’s very important.”
“I didn’t come home yesterday. I’m working as a security guard at the Pulitzer Hotel. When last did I see her? That was in the morning; I left after 10:00 a.m.,” the man replied.
“Do you know if Eva was meant to be meeting somebody? Was a party or some celebration planned? We noticed a lot of bottles and food.”
“Ehmm…” the man thought while wiping tears from his eyes. “She told me she was going to meet her friends. Her new friends she met at the pool. I think one of them was a young woman, a mental coach. Her name was Olivia. Don’t remember the other names.”
“This Olivia, how can I reach out to her?”
“I don’t know. She is not my friend. I haven’t seen her. My wife promised to invite Olivia to my birthday in November but before that…” The man began to cry again. “She spent a lot of time with her. You see, my wife had a mental health issues, and Olivia helped her enormously. Eva opened a gallery in the Center and was truly happy lately. That's all I know, Detective...”
“Okay. It’s enough for now, David. I will go out of your way but leave you with our community liaison officer, Howard. Do you have any place to stay, by the way? You can’t stay here tonight.”
“It’s morning soon, but yeah… I’ll go to my brother. He lives in Oud-West.”
“I presume you’d want to know how the investigation is going, and here is the card of the officer in charge who can answer all your questions. Her name is Zanna Howe. She is a member of my team,” Nura paused. The thought struck her. “Did Eva ever mention anything specifically about this woman? Any detail will help.”
“They often met in coffee shops, centrally. Sometimes, she went to Olivia’s house, somewhere far away, for the day, or even overnight.”
“How far away?”
“Maybe a two-hour drive...”
“And you never were worried? You said yourself you never met this woman...”
“Yes, I was worried in the beginning, but Eva seemed so happy.”
“And you never saw any pictures of this Olivia? Or a photo of them together?”
“No. Their friendship was new, only three-four months or so...”
Nura was about to leave when Mr. Levi spoke again. “I heard some members of those sharks out there asking if the Eyebrow Killer was behind this murder. Who is that? Did he kill my Eva?”
Nura could feel her stomach start to growl; she was thinking about how to tell the man that his wife had died as a result of police ‘hibernation.’
She sighed and answered, “We have been investigating a homicide in Central Amsterdam. It happened three days ago; a young woman was killed in her apartment. It seems the same person murdered your wife, but we can’t be certain without investigating further. Don’t listen to the press... they’re just looking to sell their stories. To them, this death is only business.”
“Promise me you will catch this sick man and punish him... Promise me you will make him pay for what he did to my Eva.”
“My entire team is putting in their best effort, Mr. Levi.”
With that, Nura stepped out of the apartment, ordered the liaison officer to assist Mr. Levi with anything he needed, and went to the parking lot. She got into her car and screamed at the top of her lungs while hitting the steering wheel, causing the car horn to go off every time her hands came down on it. She was relieved that the press had left, and the streets were empty. When there was nothing left to let out, Nura checked her watch—it showed 4:00 a.m.—and called her mother.
Her mother lived in Broken Hill, Australia, with her new boyfriend, Max. She picked up the phone immediately.
“Nuralain, love, I’m so glad you decided to call. I have some news to share…”
“You’re divorcing Max? Am I right?” Nura interrupted.
“Why on Earth would I do that? He’s a wonderful man. No, we’ve decided to move to Spain. Great, right? I’ll be closer to you, and we can meet each other every month. Maybe you can even get a transfer to a police station there.”
“Ha, and ha,” Nura said sarcastically. “Is this a joke?”
“No, not at all. We’ll be ready next month. We’ve already found the perfect house. Are you happy?”
“Yes.” Nura rolled her eyes.
“How’s your day? Life? Health? Any boyfriends?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I feel good…” Nura lied.
Her watch showed 5:15 a.m. when she finished talking to her mother. She pressed the ignition button, and as the engine roared to life, a familiar, sandpaper-like voice growled from the back seat.
“A bit more, and I’d die of natural causes, Nuralain, dearest…”
Explore the chaotic, absurd, and provocative world of Witold Gombrowicz, one of Poland’s most distinctive writers, known for his themes of immaturity, masks, form, and social rebellion.
I’ve been poking around in No Clue Land website, moving things, adding things, and generally pretending I have some plan... Three new DEPARTMENTS have appeared: TRAPPED IN FLESH (a tribute to the weirdness of having a body), WRITERS UNDER OBSERVATION (notes about writers and writing styles), SOMETHING HAPPENED (serialized fiction: crime or comedy).
Newsletter - sends once a week or bi-weekly (it will be mostly about health - from Trapped in Flesh Department). Side effects may include mild discomfort, and the sudden urge to Google your own organs or new words.
All other posts you can check during the week.
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