Story is from Tøger Torkel essays "Nights in Prague" released on the publisher Jotunheim
My summer has been incredibly boring. Beach holiday on Bornholm is not exactly what a man of 41 years wants. The highlight was a movie I saw on TV2. It was called "The Black Nights". But it was to return fantastic, the best crime I have ever seen. I could not help me to live into it, the thrill of it ran down his back, sweat dripping from my forehead and all the shocks when I jumped up from his chair. If only my summer holiday had been just as exciting. There was only one highlight:
The fire danced in the fireplace. It cast a warm red glow on the mantel, where the now dusty cups from Vienna last year, had their place. The last phrase was now written, the draft was ready. The coffee was Cuban and tasted not so good, but it was much of the book was finally ready for enrollment. It lacked only the initials: C Harri J. Elson. Birds flew in large flocks outside. Jack got up from his broad royal blue office chair, and his vinyl coated desk. He lifted the long glass sliding door aside and stepped out onto the terrace. From it one could look out across the beautiful mountain scenery in North Carolina. In the distance he could discern the desolate, dry swamp and desert areas in Death Valley. At that drove a Land Rover up the long winding gravel paths. A puff of smoke rose up from the rear tires, and Jack was now aware that the coming visit. He left the terrace, went through the fireplace room, down the massive oak staircase, through the hall and out the front door. In the same second as he opened the door, Land Rover came turned sharply around the corner and out came Matthew Lance.
They went through the cabin and up to the small lounge with fireplace. The fire had burnt out. Matthew walked calmly toward the desk and pulled silently out the big office chair to sit down. Thoughts of around Jack's head. My masterpiece of mine and only mine. He knew that Matthew had seen the draft book.
Matthew looked up at Jack. He knew immediately what was los. Without mediate a word, he rose and went out on the terrace. They had been friends a long time, so they had become writers together and now Jack was begun on a new book without Matthew. Jack came out on the terrace and walked beside him. There was awkward silence between them. One could only hear the wind in the trees. Matthew took a step away. Why is he so? What have I done to him? It should be fine for him. All the times I've helped him, been there for him! He owes me after all the times I've taken his party. He went quietly into the cottage, knowing that he had to do something.
In the evening during dinner they sat and talked about old authors asked Matthew to his book. Jack was about to have dinner in the wrong throat. He did not know what he should answer, a wrong word and the whole thing would go wrong. His life's work would be lost, and a brilliant solo career. He finally fremstammet that it was not a book that way, but more a kind of encyclopedia, in which he wrote down ideas for other books. He knew that Matthew would not jump on it, but it was worth trying!
Matthew stand up: "I have often thought of a solo career, you know, beside that we could indeed still write books together anyway." Matthew went up behind Jack and began to massage his shoulders. It was now the perfect time had come. Now he lacked just do it. Lots of pain to frame Jack. There grew a hatred, it was blazing hot, just as the fireplace had been. Matthews hands were moving farther and farther up Jack's neck. Suddenly they took a firm grip. Jack got a shock and tried to get Matthews hands away, but they got stuck. Jack became more and more purple in the head, he fought for his life. He knew that his last hour had come.
Matthew so pathetic at Jacks bloodshot bluish face and said mockingly: "Nothing lasts forever Jack Harrison Elson, my friend, nothing lasts forever!" Then he laughed to himself, but suddenly became serious. He ran out onto the terrace and watching the late evening sun, the darkness soon fell on. It needed to be done should be done now. He glimpsed towards the fireplace. Into the breathtaking all-eating flames ... He pushed the thought out of my head. Oh .. by crime writer who has ever a few tweaks. He would hang a rope up in the kitchen, provide a loop, place the Jack in the head and hoist him up during ceiling. Then he would read the manuscript for the book, changing the initials of the ML, and call the police. It was not Matthews fault that his friend was so sad over his solo book, that he committed suicide .. right? No living soul would accuse him for anything.
Everything was planned, he could only just read the last page of the draft. The night was still young and there was a long way home, but it was just much now, because his career was saved. He would be returned to the palace and the calm atmosphere on Arlington Road shortly. He was so absorbed in her own thoughts that he almost overlooked the bend, and the powerful "biløjne" who stared at him. He rose out of the car. "What the hell .." Matthew ran to the mysterious car that seems to go in with the darkness. The car held virtually across a marshy grussti, so he was unable to get past. He was caught .. cold sweat ran down their backs on him when he, with an aggressive gesture opened the car door. "Why in heaven's name you park your car so inappropriate? Are they aware that they could have knocked me dead? And I sight-"Matthew was interrupted by a dry female voice:" Oh, I'm so terribly sorry, but I'm lost, my car are punctured, and I'm so scared .. Will not you help me? "Matthew looked at the woman's face slowly came into view in billygternes inserts. She was very attractive. "I offer you a ride, but I do not want company." She stepped elegantly out of the car and walked calmly towards him. "Will not you Sir?" She said in an imploring look, as she showed a little cleavage. He pulled back slowly to the car and he glanced at the script lying on the back seat. He looked at the pretty young woman, and then said: "Yes, take then with." When they had sat in the car for a while, did Matthew notice that the woman glanced over the back seat and the draft.
"What are these papers you have in the back seat?" She asked in a soft voice. "It's just no work. Nothing special. "Matthew said, adding:" And what interest you have in it? "
"You must excuse me, but I have not so good. I have shown a little carsick. They could hardly be so kind as to keep to the side of a second? "Matthew drove into the side, and the woman asked if he had some water she had to get. Matthew went on to the baggage compartment to take water. Meanwhile the woman had moved him to a hillside. Matthew ran to her and gave her water. "Not to be intrusive, but could not keep my hair away from my face?" Matthew sighed, but obeyed and grabbed the long blond hair. But to his surprise the hair of smoke. It was a wig. Matthew felt two cold hands on his shoulders and a sharp shock. He flew as he had never done before, disappeared into the deep swamp. The woman walked toward the car, opened the car door took the script and thought: Finally. Finally I can get the success that I have my whole life has merited.
Okay, as you might imagine, it was not here my summer vacation episode. But why can not all summer vacations not be as exciting as a crime? Drama is as much more exciting than a beach holiday with the family on Bornholm!
