The music stirred something in Ted—a feeling he hadn’t experienced in ages. His eyelids grew heavy, and his hips began to sway slowly, gently, followed—after a hesitant delay—by the rest of his upper body. Viktoria’s delicate, powdery scent drifted into his nose again. He still didn’t know what her touch might feel like, but in his palm, he could already imagine the silkiness of her skin. He pressed his hand to his chest, as if holding Catwoman in his arms.
The soft rhythm gave way to a safe, comforting silence. Ted was never able to listen to more than one song by choice. The music, the vocals, the clutter of lyrics—it all overwhelmed him. He slipped his hand into his pocket and waited for the strange craving for Viktoria’s presence to subside. A scrap of paper snapped him out of his thoughts. He felt it with his fingertips deep inside his pants pocket and pulled it out.
His heart started pounding again. It was one of the notes—the same kind Viktoria had received. Dozens of them had flown through the air on that bizarre morning.
“You can’t hide anything from me, you hypocritical slut!”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcefully through his mouth.
He had to find out who wrote it—and why.
But how? He wasn’t a detective. He just observed, took notes, listened. He waved a hand irritably and headed to the kitchen. He tossed the note on the table and took a vanilla-and-poppy seed crepe out of the fridge. Sat down at the kitchen table in a spot where he could still keep an eye on the pool. He ate slowly, savoring every bite. He pressed each mouthful to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, drawing out the taste for as long as possible—letting the signature bourbon vanilla aroma and the poppy seed’s dense texture take over his senses. You could hardly get poppy seeds on this island. Sometimes they showed up in the German store. Everywhere else they just gave you a blank stare when you asked. Viktoria probably always had some in her fridge. At least that was something they could talk about. He could ask her if Catwoman kept hers in the freezer too, to keep it from going rancid. If he managed to find the person who’d threatened her, Viktoria would surely want to thank him somehow. He could offer to make vanilla-and-poppy seed crepes together.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Adrian heading toward his house. What the hell did that Slovak guy want from him now?
“Ted!” Adrian called out, pressing his palm against the glass.
Rage flared up in Ted.
“Sure, go ahead and smear your filthy handprints all over my glass door, you idiot,” he muttered.
Reluctantly, he walked into the living room to let him in. Well, not let him in exactly—just press down the handle and slip out the half-open door before the guy could enter. The last thing he needed was Adrian crossing his threshold.
“Yes?” Ted asked dryly, barely poking his head out.
Adrian didn’t hesitate—he grabbed the door and pushed it open. Caught off guard, Ted instinctively stepped back—something he instantly regretted. The Slovak man was already standing in the middle of his living room.
“Wow, man, your kitchen looks so much bigger,” Adrian said with a click of his tongue. “Or maybe it’s just that ours is cluttered with crap everywhere.”
And with that, he disappeared from Ted’s view.
“Hah!” Adrian laughed from somewhere deep in the kitchen.
Ted hurried after him.
“What’s so funny?” Ted asked.
“This.” Adrian spun the note meant for Viktoria between his fingers. “I always forget about it,” he chuckled.
Something shifted in his expression. As if a tender, distant memory had surfaced. His gaze drifted off, and a faint smile lingered at the corner of his lips—soft, faraway, as though he were no longer in the room.
“She didn’t even flinch,” he murmured, a note of admiring surprise in his voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ted’s voice suddenly took on a dark, threatening tone.
His posture tensed, his features hardened.
“Oh—I didn’t mean her,” Adrian said with a careless shrug, tossing the note onto the table. “It just reminded me of something else.”
“What exactly?”
“It’s not important, man. Let it go…” Adrian waved a hand. “Anyway, that’s not why I came. I just wanted to say—I’m offering free installation of water filters to everyone in the complex, if they buy through me. You get a good deal—I bring it over and install it—and I get a discount from the wholesaler. So… what do you say?”