The Trap by Melanie Raabe, Imogen Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

thing: her very own printing press. Putain bordel de merde !’
    Norbert’s face has assumed a deep-red hue. He picks up the glass and takes a sip. He’s about to say something else, but changes his mind and drains his glass instead, making angry glugging noises.
    I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t for a moment thought Norbert might cause me any trouble, but I realise he’s capable of causing me immense trouble if he wants to. Getting my book published and seeing that it receives the usual press is a fundamental part of my plan. No book, no interview. Damn it, I don’t have the time or energy to quarrel with Norbert, or go looking for a new publisher. I have other problems. Of course, any publisher would give his right arm to have me: I’m successful and I’m sure the new genre isn’t going to scare off my fans. A few of them, maybe, but for those who give up on me, there’ll be others. Anyway, that’s not the point; I don’t care in the slightest how many books I sell, as long as Lenzen takes the bait. But I can’t say that to Norbert—that it’s not merely a book at stake here.
    I don’t want a row, least of all with one of my only friends. My brain is working overtime as I consider whether to let Norbert in on my secret. It would be wonderful to have his support.
    ‘All right, I’ll repeat my first question,’ Norbert says, putting his glass down on the table and jolting me out of my thoughts. ‘Have you gone completely mad?’
    I think to myself how much I’d like an accomplice, someone I can trust. I think to myself that in a crisis, a genuine, full-blown crisis, there’s no one I’d rather have at my side than Norbert.
    ‘Well?’ he asks impatiently.
    Fuck it, I’m going to tell him. I pull myself together and take a deep breath.
    ‘Norbert…’
    ‘Don’t say anything yet,’ he hisses, raising a hand to silence me. ‘I’ve forgotten something.’
    He dashes out of the room. Bewildered, I hear him open the front door and vanish into the night. A few seconds later, he reappears with a bottle of wine.
    ‘For you,’ he says, putting the bottle on the kitchen table. He still looks grumpy.
    Norbert almost always brings me wine from the south of France when he comes to visit—the best rosé I know. But, then, he’s not usually cross with me.
    Norbert notices my confused expression.
    ‘Just because you behave like a silly cow doesn’t mean I’m going to let you go thirsty,’ he says, giving me a see-how-nice-I-am-to-you look. I suppress a smile, but at the same time I feel like crying. I think how incredible it would be to have Norbert on board—he’d believe me; he might even understand me. But it’s too dangerous; I can’t drag him into all this. Damn it. What am I to do?
    The coffee machine interrupts my thoughts with its gurgling, and I pour us both a cup.
    ‘Don’t think you’re let off the hook,’ Norbert says. ‘You owe me an explanation.’
    I sit down. Norbert settles opposite and I grope around for a plausible story.
    ‘How is it you’ve already spoken to the others in-house and not to me?’
    ‘Because I wanted to talk to you in person when you got back from your holiday instead of writing you a silly email,’ I say. ‘Only you spoilt my plans. I didn’t even know you were back!’
    It’s the truth. Norbert gives me a piercing look.
    ‘And why a thriller?’ he asks. ‘Seriously!’
    I hesitate, then decide to stick as close as possible to the truth—but without giving too much away.
    ‘Do you have brothers and sisters, Norbert?’
    ‘No,’ he says. ‘I’m an only child. My wife says it shows.’
    I almost laugh. Then I grow serious again.
    ‘I had a sister. Her name was Anna.’
    Norbert frowns.
    ‘Had?’ he asks.
    ‘Anna is dead. She was murdered.’
    ‘Oh God,’ says Norbert. ‘When did that happen?’
    ‘A long time ago now—twelve years last summer.’
    ‘ Merde! ’ says Norbert.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did they catch the culprit?’
    ‘No,’