The Strangler's Honeymoon Read Online Free PDF

asleep in bed when they returned, and had only a vague recollection of hearing them in the hall.
    She was woken up by him caressing her nipple. He held a warning finger to his lips and nodded in the direction of her mother’s bedroom. Took her hand, placed it on his rock-hard penis and looked suggestively at her.
    There was something hungry in his eyes, she noted, but at the same time something entreating, almost like a dog.
    And although she was only sixteen years old – and had been a virgin as recently as eighteen days ago – she read in that look of his something about the balancing act that is a hidden component of bodily love. Had crystal-clear insight – although she was only half awake – into all the bottomless pits that lurked behind the most gentle touches and modest glances.
    How quickly something could go wrong. And how easily something could go wrong.
    She hesitated for a moment. Made sure that he at least closed the door properly. Then nodded and allowed him to penetrate her doggy-fashion.
    It hurt, wasn’t at all like it usually was. She hadn’t been properly prepared, it hurt and he was much rougher than usual. He seemed to be interested only in satisfying his own needs, and after a minute or so he ejaculated all over her back without her having been anywhere near to an orgasm.
    Without her having experienced an ounce of pleasure.
    He mumbled an apology and went back to her mother’s bedroom. No, this was nothing like it usually was, and for the first time she was filled with a surge of extreme disgust.
    No doubt he would tell her mother that he’d just nipped out to the loo. If she happened to wake up. Hell’s bells.
    She got out of bed. Staggered to the bathroom and threw up until she felt completely drained. Showered and showered and showered.
    His dark secret love does thy life destroy, she thought. No, I can’t go on like this. I need to talk to somebody.

4
    ‘Can you tell me what this is?’
    The young shop assistant smiled nervously and fingered his moustache. Van Veeteren wiped the counter with his shirt sleeve and placed the object in the middle of the bright, shiny surface. The young man leaned forward to examine it, but when he realized what it was he straightened his back and watered down his smile.
    ‘Of course. It’s an olive stone.’
    Van Veeteren raised an eyebrow.
    ‘Really? Are you absolutely sure of that?’
    ‘Of course.’
    He picked it up carefully between his thumb and index finger and eyed it closely.
    ‘No doubt about it. An olive stone.’
    ‘Good,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘We’re in agreement so far.’
    He gingerly took a rolled-up handkerchief from his pocket and unfolded it meticulously.
    ‘What about this, then?’
    It seemed as if the young man was about to give this object the once-over as well, but for some reason changed his mind. He remained halfway bent over the counter with an odd expression on his freckly face.
    ‘It looks like a tooth filling.’
    ‘Precisely!’ exclaimed Van Veeteren, sliding the olive stone towards the little dark-coloured lump of metal until they were more or less side by side, with only a centimetre or so between them. ‘And might I ask if you have any idea who you have the great pleasure of conversing with on a beautiful September day like this one?’
    The shop assistant tried to smile again, but it wouldn’t come. He glanced several times at the display window and the door, as if hoping that a rather more normal customer might turn up and relieve the somewhat tense atmosphere inside the shop. But no such saviour appeared, and so he put his hands into the pockets of his white smock and tried to appear rather more self-assured.
    ‘Of course. You are Chief Inspector Van Veeteren. What are you getting at?’
    ‘What am I getting at?’ enquired Van Veeteren. ‘Let me inform you. I want to go to Rome, and I’ll be damned if I don’t make sure I get there. Tomorrow morning, to be more precise, when I have a flight booked