At some point, Joice had covered her ears to drown out the noise of the thing outside, but the deep sound seemed to resonate through her skull. With awe, she realized that the whooshing had gotten louder because it had gotten closer, changing its orbit, narrowing the circle. A couple of nights ago, it had only looked like a harmless flock of birds that was flying around the town. Back then, Joice had been fascinated and wondered why those birds flew in circles all night. Her creative mind had even made up a tragic story about a bird family which came back from the south and could not find its home after a long winter. But this wasn't a sorrow-stricken swarm of sparrows. This was something else entirely and she had led it straight to her home.
"Did you kill Janice Caulfield?", she asked.
He flashed her a short, somewhat devilish smile and tiredly shook his head. It was probably cruel of her to interrogate him when he was likely in pain and definitely in need of rest, but Sophie was also sure that she was more likely to get answers when he was this vulnerable. Also, he had taken a second pain killer a couple of minutes ago.
His smile had confused her. "Did…", she started, "did your boss have someone else kill her?"
"You're a smart one.", he stated condescendingly after giving her a scrutinizing look.
"What I am trying to understand is why your employer wants two kill all the mayoral candidates. I mean, they all have different agendas, so I don't really see how this is political."
While she was talking, he had risen one non-existent eyebrow and slightly squinted his eyes. Sophie felt like she was on the right track.
"I don't care about politics", he gave as an answer. Sophie noticed the short pause he put before the preposition, and decided to ignore it along with the rest of this statement.
"So, I think it's about money. But there are just three candidates. Were just three candidates. And there were attempts on both Hobbs' and Galavan's lives. Does your boss want to get rid of all the candidates? Does he want to become mayor himself or will he support someone who still has to join the race?"
The bald man suppressed a yawn.
"Is someone else paying the penguin-man to take out the candidates?"
Sophie hadn't meant to give away that she knew who his boss was and the way his eyes lit up when she mentioned his name inclined that he had not missed it.
His facial expression was either pleased or menacing. She could never tell.
Silence spread out between the two of them. Frowningly, Sophie kept her eyes on his. Sophie suddenly realized that she hadn't felt intimidated by him for several minutes- ever since she had started this conversation.
She had always prided herself to be good with words, good with stories. And now that she was trying to uncover something that might prove to be a political conspiracy, she strangely felt in her element. She wasn't going to drop the subject.
"I went to the address you gave me and talked to a barkeeper -"
"Butch.", he interrupted her gleefully.
"What?" Did he just call me-?
"Butch. It's his name." The bald man almost purred the last word.
"Right. So, erm, he mentioned who your boss is. That's how I know.", she concluded lamely.
Her hopes of a quid pro quo exchange of information were crushed almost immediately.
"I don't talk about my work" he said expressionlessly.
She kept herself from sulking. "How about a proper introduction instead?", she proposed and decided to make the beginning, "my name is- ", but got cut off in the process.
"Sophie Brent.", he interrupted her again, and sent a shiver down her spine.
Why did he know her name? How did he know?
"I saw it on your nameplate." Oh.
I need to stop being so full of myself.
"My name is Victor Zsazs."
Finally. She could already see herself conducting some serious research. After having gathered at least this information, Sophie felt like she had accomplished her mission. Moreover, she had kept him up long enough.
She was rather sure that he wasn't one to show weakness. He'd probably force himself to stay up all night before asking me to let him sleep.
"Okay Victor. I am going to take a shower and you should get some rest. See you in the morning."
When he gave her a short nod, Sophie disappeared into her bathroom to take an extended shower, while her thoughts remained focused on the murderer sitting in the living room.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, the sky was already brightening up and Sophie caught herself thinking that she would have heard birds chirping if she was still living in her almost rural hometown and not in a city this big.
She put on a pair of sweatpants and a washed-out shirt and shot a longing glance towards her bed before returning to the living room.
It was silly, but her expertise in the medical field was so very rudimentary that she just couldn't dare to leave him unmonitored for the rest of the night.
Not that she knew what to do if he developed a fever or dropped dead from her sofa. Although, calling an ambulance would definitely produce an entertaining story for anyone not involved.
She silently carried her most comfortable chair opposite to the sofa where her intriguing guest was sleeping, fetched the novel she was half-heartedly reading at the moment, and sat down.
Admittedly, the book in her hands was a cheap alibi. Sophie knew that she was far too tired and exhausted to even read a grocery list, but she felt that she needed something to occupy her hands with.
She opened the book and carefully rested it on her lap, before finally using this moment to do what she had not been able to do unnoticed before.
Her eyes fixed on the figure in front of her. Victor Zsasz was sleeping in a sitting position that looked thoroughly uncomfortable. One part of Sophie felt truly sorry for him. Another part was glad that she could now fully look at his face without having to bend over a lying body.
It would have been too awkward to have him wake up with her stooping over him.
His skin looked even paler in the dawn and Sophie could see that the dark shadows under his eyes stood out in a strong contrast to his white skin.
She had never seen anyone looking this tired- and he did not seem to be getting a good rest. His forehead was still glistening with sweat and at the same time, he held his arms close to his torso, as if he was cold. Even in sleep, he did not look at peace.
Pity formed in her stomach and spread out throughout her body, infesting not only her heart, but also her brain.
She knew that no one in their right mind would be worried about the well-being of a notorious murderer. But Sophie was tired of constantly reminding herself that it was crazy to care. It was exhausting to always monitor her thoughts and emotions, to stop anything abnormal in its tracks.
It would be alright for her to cut herself some slack, she decided, as she slowly rose from her chair and silently approached the sofa to pick up the blanket that had been dragged aside on the armrest.
Very carefully, Sophie managed to cover the pale man with the quilt without waking him up and turned the heating on before returning to her chair. The least I can do is make sure that he is warm.
Joice wondered if she should regret having kept what had happened a secret. But as she stared into the deep blackness and vainly tried to fix her eyes on the source of the swirling sound, she realized that neither her friends nor her parents would have known what to do. The grown-ups would have never believed her in the first place. And her friends… were safe. The thought that they were not in danger because she had kept everything to herself made Joice feel very selfless and heroic. She straightened her back and crossed her arms to stop her body from trembling while she looked into the nothingness outside in anticipation.
The feeling of discomfort was the first thing she noticed and probably what woke her up. Her body felt shattered, her joints were cracking when she moved, and her muscles were aching terribly. She had fallen asleep on the chair.
Once she fully came to her senses, yesterday's events hit her, and she immediately glanced towards the sofa which was now deserted.
Apparently, he had gone without saying goodbye or leaving a thank-you-note. What he did leave was a dark-red bloodstain on her sofa-cover. Awesome. He left me some evidence.
Sophie decided that it would be wise to start her day with stuffing some things into her washing machine. When she got up from the chair, she almost fell over the blanket that was lying on the floor before her.
Had he covered her with it before he left?
Sophie snorted. Don't flatter yourself. It's more likely he threw it into your face when he noticed that you tucked him in.
If she was honest with herself, she really wanted to believe that he did in fact reciprocate her kind gesture. It just seemed very unlikely for someone who wouldn't even return a smile. And is a cold-blooded killer.
But if he had, maybe that meant that he wasn't so cold-blooded after all. And if she could manage to form some kind of friendship with him, maybe she could not only unravel the mystery that surrounded him, but also set free his inner demons that she was sure to have seen in his sleeping features.
She decided to have a nice breakfast before she got too excited.
An endeavour that proved to be more difficult than she had expected. Sophie rolled her eyes in disbelief. Apparently, he had eaten the humble contents of her fridge and only left her one slice of bread