Stalker by Lars Kepler Read Free Book Online

floor.
    ‘So you want to learn to play the piano,’ Jackie says, getting up from the sofa.
    ‘I’ve always dreamed of learning, but I’ve never got round to it … Naturally, I’ve got absolutely no talent at all,’ Erik explains quickly. ‘I’m completely unmusical.’
    ‘That’s a shame,’ she says in a quiet voice.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, we might as well have a go,’ she says, and puts her hand out to the wall.
    ‘Mummy, I’ve mixed some juice,’ the little girl says, and comes into the room with a tray containing glasses of juice.
    ‘Ask our guest if he’s thirsty.’
    ‘Are you thirsty?’
    ‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you,’ Erik says, and takes a sip. ‘Do you play the piano as well?’
    ‘I’m better than Mummy was at my age,’ the girl replies, as if that’s a phrase she’s heard many times.
    Jackie smiles and strokes her daughter’s hair and neck rather clumsily, before turning back towards him.
    ‘You’ve paid for twenty lessons,’ she says.
    ‘I have a tendency to go over the top,’ Erik admits.
    ‘So what do you want to get out of the course?’
    ‘If I’m honest, I fantasise about being able to play a sonata … one of Chopin’s nocturnes,’ Erik says, and feels himself blush. ‘But I’m aware I’m going to have to start with “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep”.’
    ‘We can work with Chopin, but perhaps an étude instead.’
    ‘If there’s a short one.’
    ‘Madeleine, can you get me Chopin … opus 25, the first étude.’
    The girl searches the shelf next to Jackie, pulls out a folder and removes the score. Only when she puts it in her mother’s hand does Erik realise that the teacher is blind.

10
    Erik can’t help smiling to himself as he sits in front of the highly polished black piano with the name
C. Bechstein, Berlin
picked out in small gold lettering.
    ‘He needs to lower the stool,’ the girl says.
    Erik stands up and lowers the seat by spinning it a few times.
    ‘We’ll start with your right hand, but we’ll pick out some notes with your left.’
    He looks at her fair face, with its straight nose and half-open mouth.
    ‘Don’t look at me, look at the notes and the keyboard,’ she says, reaching over his shoulder and putting her little finger gently on one of the black keys. A high note echoes inside the piano.
    ‘This is E flat … We’ll start with the first formation, which consists of six notes, six sixteenths,’ she says, and plays the notes.
    ‘OK,’ Erik mutters.
    ‘Where did I start?’
    He presses the key, producing a hard note.
    ‘Use your little finger.’
    ‘How did you know …’
    ‘Because it’s natural – now, play,’ she says.
    He struggles through the lesson, concentrating on her instructions, stressing the first note of the six, but loses his way when he has to add a few notes with his left hand. A couple of times she touches his hand again and tells him to relax his fingers.
    ‘OK, you’re tired, let’s stop there,’ Jackie says in a neutral voice. ‘You’ve done some good work.’
    She gives him notes for the next lesson, then asks the girl to show him to the door. They pass a closed door with ‘No entry!’ scrawled in childish writing on a large sign.
    ‘Is that your room?’ Erik asks.
    ‘Only Mummy’s allowed in there,’ the child says.
    ‘When I was little I wouldn’t even let my mummy come into my room.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘I drew a big skull and hung that on the door, but I think she went in anyway, because sometimes there were clean sheets on the bed.’
    The evening air is fresh when he steps outside. It feels like he’s hardly been breathing during the course of the lesson. His back is so tense that it hurts, and he still feels strangely embarrassed.
    When he gets home he has a long, hot shower, then he calls the piano teacher.
    ‘Yes, this is Jackie.’
    ‘Hello, Erik Maria Bark here. Your new pupil, you know …’
    ‘Hello,’ she says, curious.
    ‘I’m calling to … to apologise. I