Danish Meatballs

Great Crime Fiction by Anika K. Clausen

“Knock, knock!”

“Who’s there?”

“You.”

“You, who?”

“Yoo-hoo! I’m coming to get you!”

His little legs ran faster still. Her five-year-old had managed to escape her grip yet again. The autumn leaves crackled beneath her feet, as she continued to chase her son through the empty woods.

“Got you! You’re getting too good at this.”

“But you always win,” he said with an indication of defeat in his voice.

Jessica loved these moments between the two of them. She could not think of any better thing than to play with her son in the woods that were a mere biking distance away.

Soon this state of bliss would come to an end. He was turning six next spring and would have to start school. As of late, he had seemed saddened, whether by the coming change or the missing father-figure at home was a mystery unsolved. Being a quiet boy, she knew he was not going to hand over his feelings on a silver platter. Asking him what was wrong was thus not an option. With everything that had happened, she did not blame his silent demeanor. She had tried to find a fit for Silas and herself but there was always something missing or something that brought their habits out of order. Something that disrupted their bubble.

She understood sons need their fathers. But what good did it do if the father in question was a waste of space alcoholic who gambled their savings away? Even if he had been good with Silas, a reliable role model resembled something else. What was more, his gambling habits had simply not been sustainable.

***

She was oblivious to John’s addiction at first. He revealed it too late for her to kick him to the curb before building a family. Not that she had waited for long once she had found him at the local bar in Aarestrup in Northern Jutland. She still remembered it like it were yesterday, when she laid her eyes on this tall, handsome, blue-eyed Danish bloke. Five minutes was all it took for her to approach him. He was not going to get away from her.

The problem had never been to find a man. It had been to find the right man. One who was intelligent and easy on the eyes without being too full of himself. She knew that once she would find what she sought, she would have to claw him to herself. Good men were a rare cargo around Haverslev, a rural area with a house every 2 km and a population of 785. It was easy to be left in peace in this area, her childhood home, and she would never exchange it for any other part of the world.

John was a city guy. He had grown up in Aalborg but had moved around Jutland for the five years leading up to their encounter. He did not mind the countryside and the people. They were all welcoming and social, the typical Danes of the North. Always willing to lend a helping hand to avoid interference from the outside world.

It was small things that Jessica started to notice after Silas’ birth. John would come home tired and grouchy. She asked him time and time again what was wrong, but he always waved her off with a simple: “I’m just tired.”

Then he stopped touching her altogether. Holding her hand happened on rare occasions only. Taking care of Silas seemed more like a chore than a privilege. All he cared about was work and his computer.

One late night, John left his computer screen on while going to the bathroom and Jessica snuck into the office to see if she could find something. She could not believe her own eyes, when she saw the message, black on white.

Honey, when are you coming home? The kids and I miss you. We barely get to see you these days. The boys need their father, and a wife needs her husband. 😉 Forever yours, Linda

This was not happening. This could not be happening. There was no way he had another family, right? Sure, he worked late nights, but he always came home. Except for the occasional weekend trips of course. Maybe, this Linda woman had gotten the wrong mail address. But how could that be? Their life was far from perfect, but it was normal to have a dry spell at this point in the relationship, wasn’t it?

“What are you doing up, Jess?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and I saw your screen was on,” she said in a calm tone. She could feel her palms getting sweaty.

John came closer and glanced at the computer display which showed a picture of the three of them in the forest from last summer. All of them smiling their most genuine smiles. He turned his gaze back to Jessica with a doubtful look.

“You should go to bed. It’s late. I’ll be there soon.”

She went her way. That had been close. What was she supposed to do? The easiest would be to ignore it. But how could she leave it alone? She had to know who Linda was.

***

One day, she followed him to work when she could leave Silas with her mother. He did indeed work at a law firm, as he had told her. At least that was not a lie. Why had he never introduced her to any of his colleagues? When she came to think of it, she never heard him talk about a case, ever. At the same time, it made sense because lawyers were not supposed to disclose any information about their cases, right? There had never been an office party either for outsiders to attend. A bit odd, sure, but maybe more common than one would think. How would she know? She worked at a small store in Haverslev, where she sold produce from the local farms. The shop was hers. Although not a major moneymaker, working there made her happy and fulfilled her social needs.

During the maternity leave, her single employee, Lars, had taken the reins. Once over and given the size of the shop and friendliness of the locals, she often took Silas with her to work and let him play in the tiny corner.

Focus, Jessica, now is not the time to think about that. Where is John? She gazed left and right at the elegant suits running around like little worker ants. Each with their assigned business to attend to.

The question was how to gather more information on John without being noticed. Someone was bound to recognize her from family photos on his desk, like the one she had given him for their one-year anniversary. Or would he have photos of this Linda and their kids on his desk?

“Can I help you?” a woman asked with a gentle smile.

“I’m looking for my husband’s office,” Jessica answered without thinking.

“Third floor to the left. I don’t think he’s in now though.”

How did this woman know who she was?

“That’s okay. I was just dropping something off.”

They said their conventional goodbyes and went their separate ways. A rather pleasant, yet incomprehensible encounter. John kept his professional and private life in separate drawers. Regarding his work life, all she ever witnessed was his suit which he changed the minute he walked through the door, upon which he would jump into the shower. Washing off the remains of one of his lives, before entering another.

When she reached the third floor, eyes followed her, as did the whispers in the corridor. Nothing to do but stay focused. Keep staying focused. Look like you belong, and you will, she thought to herself.

Clausen, Larsen, Andersen, Storm… Storm!

She grabbed the doorknob and opened the door with a slow movement to avoid any sound. Entering his professional world was both exhilarating and frightening. Frightening because she knew there was no way back.

What she found was nothing she would have expected. His office was bare. Empty, except for a simple wooden desk, an office chair, and a computer. No plants, not even the one she had gifted him a month ago. No photos, neither of her or Silas, nor this Linda person and their kids. The only telltale of the room being John’s office was the personalized lighter he had gotten from his father before he passed away.

The computer screen was pitch black. She nudged the mouse with her left index finger. The display lit up. To her disappointment, no picture of Silas and her here either. Of course, the computer was locked to outsiders. The contents, whatever they were, kept safe from prying eyes.

She tried different passwords to unlock this mystery box. A simple “123456”, her name, their son’s name, his own name. Nothing worked. There must be a way to get into his world, she thought. If he kept his professional life and private life in separate boxes, then maybe his password pertained to the opposite domain. The question remained whether that domain was hers or Linda’s. In the latter case, she could do nothing to learn more about their affair. Then it hit her. What if I am the other woman?

***

For a second, she dozed off into a memory she kept returning to these past years.

One night, before Silas, before they even moved in together, when everything was new and exciting, they had gone to a nearby café. As usual, the crowds made the search for a table almost hopeless.

However demanding it had been to squeeze their way through, they somehow managed. Yes, that night, they had won the lottery because, even without a reservation, they found the perfect spot, right by the window. She remembered how the rain poured outside, and how both had been soaking wet after their lovemaking in a side-alley.

Thinking of it while standing in front of her husband’s desk, in the pursuit of breaking into his computer to find information on his possible mistress, one of her fondest memories now seemed dirty. Cheap.

Back in the restaurant, she reminisced how they giggled. Cold, wet, and yet so happy. Once the waiter had taken their order, they stared into each other’s eyes without uttering a single word. Had they already run out of things to say? She was dubious.

The music in the background got louder. Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature” was playing.

“This could be our song,” she said, gleaming at him with loving eyes.

“What?”

“You know. Couples usually have a song that defines a special moment in their lives together.”

“And you choose this one?” he said in a dry tone.

“Why not? It’s a nice song and since we don’t have one yet.”

“But we do!” he interrupted. “Don’t you remember our first date? Kat Stevens was on, and you said what you just said now, that it should be our song.”

“That wasn’t with me, John.”

He looked at her in disbelief or at least that’s how she remembered it. At the time, it seemed innocent. He had probably forgotten that it had been with another woman, perhaps an ex-girlfriend. Could he have confused her with Linda?

“Well, whatever, this is our song,” she said in a stern tone.

He took her cold hand in his large, comforting palm and gave her that irresistible smile.

“Okay, this is our song.”

Had he sighed?

***

Back to the incessant blinking cursor on the screen. She typed, letter by letter, small letters, one word. A dotted line appeared as if to indicate that the computer was uncertain whether to accept the string of ones and zeros. Then, the screen went black for a second, as if to prepare her for what was to come. Pictures of them both flashed before her eyes. Pictures of her, of Silas. But none of them were familiar. One looked like it had been taken at Canyons in San Francisco, but she had never been there. Silas on a swing with a big smile reaching from one ear to the other, but he was terrified of swings, always had been. Especially after the incident where another kid had pushed him off and he landed face-down on the ground.

She was looking at the reflection of what she had wished were true, a happy family, no problems, no debt, no worries. She felt mocked by their smiling faces. Her smiling face.

Even if computers were not her forte and her interest in them stuck to a bare minimum, she knew how to conduct a simple search on Windows. She typed “Linda” and found a corresponding folder including 112 files. Why would he have all these files on a single person? None were images. She was about to double click when she heard voices approaching.

She hid under the desk, after shutting down the computer.

“Did she say anything else?” John asked. He sounded concerned.

“Not that I know of,” another male voice answered. “Has this happened before?”

“Yeah,” John sighed. “Twice already, and it only gets worse each time. More questions, more nonsense.”

She held her breath. She was almost certain he had entered the office, even though the carpet rendered footsteps inaudible.

“Why is the computer still on?” he muttered.

Shoot, she had only turned the screen off, not the computer. Damn technology.

“Fuck!” He ran out and slammed the door.

This was her out. Either now or never. She opened the door in a slow and agonizing move. No one to be spotted left nor right. She took a tentative step, then another.

The coast was clear.

She ran through the corridor to catch the elevator but stunned when she heard his voice again.

She jumped into the janitor’s closet, next to the elevator. The darkness was overwhelming, and she hated confined spaces. Playing hide and seek with Silas was never really a pleasure.

“Who the fuck could it have been, Chris?”

“How am I supposed to know, John?” he paused, probably to let it sink in. “Look, it’s probably just someone who’s trying to take a piss out of you.”

“Other than you, nobody knows. You only know because you were part of the case with me at the time.”

“Yes, and I still think you made a mistake. I don’t even know how you were allowed to work it.”

“You don’t think, I’m aware? The question is whether it was her. If it was, then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Their voices dimmed, as they disappeared down the corridor.

Doors closed, one after the other. She fled from the janitor’s closet and decided to take the stairs instead. Less traffic, less risk.

While running through the illuminated entrance hall covered by a glass ceiling, she saw the woman from before. She’s talking to colleagues; she won’t pay attention to me.

“Hey! Are you alright?” a familiar voice asked. Darn it!

“I’m fine, thanks. Just need to catch a train,” she mustered up a smile while gasping for air.

“But the train is that way,” the woman said. She could almost see the question mark form on her face.

“You’re right. Silly me,” Jess managed to smile. “Thanks and have a good day.”

Jessica took off before the woman could react to the awkward conversation.

She fumbled with the car key. Her hand was shaking. How was she ever going to find out about Linda? Surely, she would have to explain why she had been at John’s office, but what would she say? What could she say?

***

“Hey honey, you’re home.” Her mother smiled at her with big, bright blue eyes.

“Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”

“All good,” she said and smiled at Silas.

“Whenever you want to talk about it, you let me know.” How did she do that?

“Mom! Look what I made!” Silas beamed at her like a ray of sunshine which filled her with a warmth she could only describe as pure happiness. A smile that made all bad things disappear.

The drawing was of both her and Silas, as well as a small figure in the background.

“Who’s that, Silas?”

“That’s Dad.”

“Why doesn’t he have a face?”

He looked at her with his innocent eyes and said: “Because his face makes me sad.”

***

When her mother left after having reassured her that marital problems were nothing to be ashamed of, Jessica went through the vast number of documents scattered about on the table. Nothing. She grabbed one book, then another, hoping to find a note. Still nothing! She started clutching on to more books at a time and flung them across the wooden floor. She emptied out all their old CD cases that they had kept for no apparent reason. Nothing, nothing, nothing!

She stared at the mess she had left behind. Every inch of an otherwise neat office was covered with papers, books, CD’s. How was she going to find anything? John was going to be furious with this, with her. Even though he was a calm man, he could get scary.

“What are you doing?”

Cold sweat ran down her spine, and she felt the hairs on her arms rise, one after the other. She turned around. As she turned, she put on her usual calm parental face.

“I’m just looking for something. Go back to your toys. I’ll be right there.”

He went back to the living room, situated at the other end of the house.

After watching him recommence playing his game of war with his stuffed animals, she returned to the bombshell she had created.

She scanned the bookshelves one last time and noticed a peculiar fissure in the back of one of the shelves. She stumbled across the room, stepping on whatever lied on her path. She tried to open the slit but to no avail. She needed something sharp: A letter knife.

What looked like a simple slit turned out to be a hidden hole in the wall that John must have installed. The walls of the house were deeper than she had envisaged, and impossible to inspect with the naked eye. She stuck her arm through and felt a stack of papers and something small, rectangular, maybe a USB-key?

***

It had taken Silas a bit long to start walking. For a while, he was able to pull himself up from the living room coffee table but kept falling right back on his behind again.

The video playing on the screen showed how Silas at 15 months had finally managed. His older brother, Thomas, came to the rescue in a split second this time and that little extra stability not only helped Silas stand on his own but gave him the courage to take one step, then another. 1, 2, 3.

“Okay, Silas, one more step!” Thomas, 5 years his senior, cheered.

She remembered how much she loved her little boys. Thomas had been a gift sent from heaven. Helpful when he needed to be. Silent, when she needed silence. Boyish, when it suited her. The perfect little boy. The spitting image of her loving husband.

Silas was smiling. What a happy standing man. He started to stumble but Thomas’ arms around him, not touching, just there in case Silas needed him, helped him regain his balance.

The camera pointed at her. She went into a crouching position to embrace Silas. Only another three steps to go. 1, 2, 3.

***

Before she could relive their embrace, she found herself somewhere else.

Ahead, she could see a dark, icy road. She was driving their station wagon with the soccer mom sticker on the back.

She looked at sleeping Silas in his baby seat through the rear view mirror and then over to Thomas whose face turned from sleepy to scared in a split second.

“Mom, look out!”

***

She opened her eyes. She was back at the office.

“Linda!” John yelled. He ran towards her to help her get back on her feet.

“What happened?” He looked at her in fear.

“Where is Silas?” was all she could think of to buy some time and gather her thoughts.

“He’s playing in the living room. He’s alright. What happened?” he asked again.

“You called me Linda,” she said in a whisper.

“What?”

“You called me Linda,” now in an angry tone. “Who is Linda? You owe me that much! And don’t look at me like that. I hate it when you do that. You look just like…”

“Tommy,” John answered in a tired voice. “There’s a lot that you don’t know because you’ve forgotten for good reasons. I’m not cheating on you, and your name is not Jess, it’s Linda.”

She stared at him in disbelief. Did he really think she was crazy enough to believe that?

“How can I have forgotten about having another son?”

“Tommy died during a car accident with you and Silas four years ago. Somehow you crashed into a tree, but nobody knows why or how. There were no brake marks.”

“Are you saying I killed a little boy on purpose? My little boy?”

“No! God no, Linda.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Let’s start over.”

“Start over? You’re hiding things from me, John!” her voice got louder. “And on top of that you’re drinking our money away.”

“Jess, you made all of that up. I’ve never had a drinking problem. I don’t know if you’re trying to blame me for what happened. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried everything, therapy, going along with your story of Jessica with one son who follows me around the office. You think I’m hiding my job from you and that I have an affair but none of it is true, and honestly, Linda, I mean, Jessica, I can’t live like this any longer.”

He almost sounded sincere. It was hard to tell whether he was telling the truth.

“But what about the message from Linda?”

“You mean the one you saw the other day and pretended not to? You wrote that message four years ago when I was away for a big case in Copenhagen. I was reading some of your old messages because I miss my wife. I’m as devastated as you are about what happened and I’m trying to move on. I’m trying to move on for Silas’ sake.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes, as if to check whether she was really there. “You don’t notice it, but Silas asks me what’s wrong with his mommy and I don’t know what to tell him. What should I say to him? He lost his older brother whom he loved more than anything in this world, and now he’s slowly but surely losing his mother. He’s only 5 years old, Linda. Silas…”

“Silas! Where is he?” Her eyes flew from side to side to look for her only son. “What have you done to him?”

“Nothing. He’s fine. He’s playing in the living room,” John said in a calm voice.

She listened and then his cries burst her ear drums.

“Stop lying! He’s crying!” she yelled at him.

“It’s all in your head. Calm down! Please. Before you worry him,” John tried to reassure her.

“Calm down? Are you crazy?”

Jessica pushed John to the side. She ran towards the living room through the corridor which seemed endless and narrowing in on her. With every step she took, she could hear his screams become louder.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

She stared at Silas with wide eyes. He had been crying. She was sure of it. He had been crying as if there was no tomorrow.

“Everything is fine,” she finally managed to say.

***

“I think you were right about Silas, John,” she said when entering the office. “John? John!” she cried.

She ran towards his limp body on the floor next to a red puddle behind his head. His eyes were still open, flickering, ever so slightly. His lips were moving but no sound came out.

She knelt and was about to fish her phone out of her pocket when he grabbed her hand and whispered: “You’ll find everything you need in the documents and on the USB-key. Do the right thing and get Silas out of this house.”

“I can’t leave him, John. He’s everything I have. You’re going to be fine. We’ll figure it out. I promise. I… John?” The tears were welling up and about to pour when she heard a low cracking sound.

“Is Dad okay?” Silas stood by the door frame with his favorite teddy in his right hand, the one he slept with to keep the monsters away.

There are so many words in the vocabulary, but which ones was she supposed to apply in a situation like this? Lying was useless. Silas was little but had been through enough to know what this meant.

“He’s with Tommy now, isn’t he?”

***

“So? How was your first day at school?” she asked.

Silas entered the kitchen and threw his bag on the chair by the kitchen island. He lowered his head and stared at the floor.

“Silas?” she was getting worried. She knew how other kids could be and Silas was a shy child.

His expression shifted, as he looked up at her with a big smile. “It was amazing! Did I fool you, Mom?”

He sure did.

“Look what I made!”

He showed her a drawing of the two of them holding hands.

“That’s lovely, honey. We’ll hang it next to the other ones.”

“What are we having for dinner?”

“Your favorite.”

“Meatballs!” he exclaimed with joy.

“You know it! Could you grab the meat from the fridge please?”

Silas pulled the meat out of the fridge and stood in silence.

“What’s that?” he asked, placing the meat on the counter where she had arranged the ingredients for her grandmother’s famous recipe.

She looked at it and without making a face, she told him that it was nothing and that he should bring his stuff to his room and set the table.

The shiny object was indeed strange. She thought she had removed it from his finger before chopping off his hand with the meat cleaver. She removed the wedding ring from the bag and studied it closer. The engraving said “John + Linda 04.06.2018”. She was still unable to grasp how he could have led a secret life without her knowledge. Never mind, for Silas was all that mattered.

John’s documents were absolute nonsense. Why would she be prone to having a dissociative identity disorder because her grandmother had been crazy? What a ludicrous idea. The USB-key was on the fritz and repairing it not in her interest. Silas needed a stable home, not to get out of the house. It had taken some time, but they were getting there. In the end, mother knows best.

---

Bio: Anika K. Clausen writes poems and short stories that entertain the dark corners of the mind while alluding to the masked realities of today. She is a multilingual writer from Denmark with an MA in English and German linguistics and literature. Her work has been published by The Yard, Mystery Tribune, Coffin Bell Journal, and Grim & Gilded among others. You can find her at her website HERE.

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