Read Online The Camera Killer by Thomas Glavinic - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thomas Glavinic
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might cheer him up. Heinrich replied that he would watch it tomorrow; he wanted tocheck the Internet to see if the killer had been caught or if the police at least had a lead.
“West Styria: Police net tightens. Checks have been run on dozens of people in the course of the hunt for the killer. Little information has emanated from the Ministry of the Interior because of the news blackout, but it is rumored that the killer has not yet left the area or may be a local inhabitant.”
Heinrich loudly demanded how they knew this.
“Violent protests against the transmission of the murder video. The German commercial station that transmitted parts of the so-called murder video during the night has been very sharply criticized by all schools of thought at home and abroad. The German president has called it a disgrace to the whole of Germany and publicly apologized to his Austrian colleagues. He referred to a failure of media policy and said he saw evidence of moral decay. One recourse might be stricter media legislation.”
Stupid idiots, said Heinrich.
Eva entered in her nightgown. She said hello and sat down on the arm of the sofa, which consisted of a white bolster. Heinrich stroked her back and solicitously inquired why she couldn’t sleep. He picked up some chips and put them in his mouth. Chewing noisily, he jerked his thumb at the window and said it would soon be light. Eva disputed this, saying there were still a couple of hours to go.
I went into the bathroom, where I washed my face with soap, brushed my teeth, and dried myself on one of Heinrich and Eva’s hand towels, which was adorned with a smiling cartoon character named the Pink Panther.
I returned to the living room. Eva was just taking her leave. She asked when Heinrich was thinking of following her up to bed. Soon, he replied. She waved to us and left the room.
Heinrich offered me some chips. I helped myself. He poured himself some red wine from a dark-green, opaque bottle, sighed, and read some more news.
I was so tired I stretched out in my armchair and briefly closed my eyes. When I awoke, the sun was shining outside. The time by the video recorder was 8:18. Heinrich was lying asleep on the sofa with his mouth open.
I heard Eva’s voice outside the door. Those two idiots spent the night in the living room, she was saying. Then my partner made herself heard. She indignantly conjectured that the two “weary warriors” wouldn’t be much use to anyone today.
I raised my head and looked at the door.
Aha, said Eva, one of them is awake.
My partner tapped her forehead at me. I wished her good morning. In consequence of our brief ensuing conversation, Heinrich woke up too. He jumped to his feet as though someone had tipped a bucket of cold water over him. He just took the time to give his wife a good-morning kiss as he brushed past her.
I rubbed my eyes and plodded out into the hall to join the others.
Heinrich slipped into his brown sandals and asked where the car keys were. Hanging on their hook as usual, said Eva, but what did he need the car for? Heinrich replied that he had to buy some newspapers. Eva said he was mad; he ought to have some breakfast first, and besides, there probably weren’t any papers on Easter Sunday. Heinrich recalled the
Kronen Zeitung
’s advertisement of last night, which had promised to bring out an edition containing an illustrated sixteen-page report on the killings.
He was almost out the door when, with his sunglasses on his nose, he hurried back into the living room and turned on the television, exclaiming that they might have caught him.
The news reported that a hectic manhunt was in progress. The killer’s trail had been picked up. Having feverishly zapped from channel to channel, Heinrich tossed the remote control onto the sofa and stormed out. Soon afterward, we heard the car start up. The sound of the engine receded.
Eva and my partner set about making breakfast. My help was not, in their opinion,
“West Styria: Police net tightens. Checks have been run on dozens of people in the course of the hunt for the killer. Little information has emanated from the Ministry of the Interior because of the news blackout, but it is rumored that the killer has not yet left the area or may be a local inhabitant.”
Heinrich loudly demanded how they knew this.
“Violent protests against the transmission of the murder video. The German commercial station that transmitted parts of the so-called murder video during the night has been very sharply criticized by all schools of thought at home and abroad. The German president has called it a disgrace to the whole of Germany and publicly apologized to his Austrian colleagues. He referred to a failure of media policy and said he saw evidence of moral decay. One recourse might be stricter media legislation.”
Stupid idiots, said Heinrich.
Eva entered in her nightgown. She said hello and sat down on the arm of the sofa, which consisted of a white bolster. Heinrich stroked her back and solicitously inquired why she couldn’t sleep. He picked up some chips and put them in his mouth. Chewing noisily, he jerked his thumb at the window and said it would soon be light. Eva disputed this, saying there were still a couple of hours to go.
I went into the bathroom, where I washed my face with soap, brushed my teeth, and dried myself on one of Heinrich and Eva’s hand towels, which was adorned with a smiling cartoon character named the Pink Panther.
I returned to the living room. Eva was just taking her leave. She asked when Heinrich was thinking of following her up to bed. Soon, he replied. She waved to us and left the room.
Heinrich offered me some chips. I helped myself. He poured himself some red wine from a dark-green, opaque bottle, sighed, and read some more news.
I was so tired I stretched out in my armchair and briefly closed my eyes. When I awoke, the sun was shining outside. The time by the video recorder was 8:18. Heinrich was lying asleep on the sofa with his mouth open.
I heard Eva’s voice outside the door. Those two idiots spent the night in the living room, she was saying. Then my partner made herself heard. She indignantly conjectured that the two “weary warriors” wouldn’t be much use to anyone today.
I raised my head and looked at the door.
Aha, said Eva, one of them is awake.
My partner tapped her forehead at me. I wished her good morning. In consequence of our brief ensuing conversation, Heinrich woke up too. He jumped to his feet as though someone had tipped a bucket of cold water over him. He just took the time to give his wife a good-morning kiss as he brushed past her.
I rubbed my eyes and plodded out into the hall to join the others.
Heinrich slipped into his brown sandals and asked where the car keys were. Hanging on their hook as usual, said Eva, but what did he need the car for? Heinrich replied that he had to buy some newspapers. Eva said he was mad; he ought to have some breakfast first, and besides, there probably weren’t any papers on Easter Sunday. Heinrich recalled the
Kronen Zeitung
’s advertisement of last night, which had promised to bring out an edition containing an illustrated sixteen-page report on the killings.
He was almost out the door when, with his sunglasses on his nose, he hurried back into the living room and turned on the television, exclaiming that they might have caught him.
The news reported that a hectic manhunt was in progress. The killer’s trail had been picked up. Having feverishly zapped from channel to channel, Heinrich tossed the remote control onto the sofa and stormed out. Soon afterward, we heard the car start up. The sound of the engine receded.
Eva and my partner set about making breakfast. My help was not, in their opinion,