The Knight, the Beauty, the Beast, the Fool
Eat a Heart – Gain Love
Stella Fracta
All the imperishable – that’s but a simile, and the poets lie too much.
– Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Cover Design Alexandra Undead
Translator (from Russian) Alexandra Undead
© Stella Fracta, 2025
ISBN 978-5-0065-6118-2
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
1. Dollhouse
Another high stoop, a brick facade of a house with maisonettes, a carved door and a bell that makes a typical, pompous and booming sound of a gong. Did they all conspire? This is the seventh, fortunately the last address on the list, with the same audible signal – it turns out, the local wealthy people are completely lacking in imagination and imitate each other.
Allex sighed, glanced at the squares of the windows, shifted from one foot to the other, tapping his thigh with the clipboard with the sheets of paper attached to it. He secretly hoped there would be no one in the apartment – and then he would finally take a break for lunch … He was tired and terribly hungry.
He should at least see who lives in the dollhouse … Allex usually needed a couple of seconds to get the necessary information, he could read diagonally, he looked at the clipboard only before the visit – as a rule, already on the approach. He improvised – because he knew, what was planned in advance would have to be re-acted anyway.
Footsteps were heard behind the door, light and rhythmic. His future interlocutor was some female artiste … Allex knew nothing about films, movie stars, singers or musicians, he was not interested in media life – and today, as luck would have it, he came across one arrogant bon ton, each more bizarre than the last.
One of them even looked askance at Allex’s dusty boots with chipped toes as he walked across the antique handmade carpet … If the person-number-seven on the list is just as arrogant – and the likelihood is high – he’ll just— What will he do? He’ll have to interview her – that is his job.
This was not how he had imagined his first week on the job in a new department, on a new team, on a new investigation. He was once again being sent to do what others would consider boring work – but he could be of real use!
The door opened, and a tall young woman with golden hair and a pale, thin, textured face appeared before him. Allex instantly emerged from the whirlpool of thoughts, for some reason perked up, and it seemed to him that an autumn sunbeam ran across the glass and the facade, the colors became brighter.
Most likely, this is the effect of the combination of hues – the hairstyle and the gray-blue blouse, perfectly ironed, matching the color of the eyes.
Allex was observant, sometimes too much. He habitually absorbed the entire image in front of him, memorized every detail, noted the neutral makeup in the ‘no makeup’ look and the barely perceptible light foundation – which made the lady of the house look very young – the asthenic physique with thin wrists, narrow shoulders, and high set breasts, expressive eyebrows and long eyelashes.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and Allex didn’t even have time to open his mouth to announce the purpose of his visit when the golden-haired artiste said, “Unfortunately, Mr. de Lavender is not at home, but I can tell him that you came.”
Allex blinked and shook his head.
“Wilhelmina Gustavsson?” he said to her. “Agent Allex Serret, FBI. I need to ask you a few questions, it won’t take long.”
Allex reached into his pocket, pulled out the documents and showed them, pressing the clipboard to his ribs under his arm, his jacket bulging at the side, covering the holster. For a moment, a shadow seemed to flicker across Miss Gustavsson’s face, but it immediately took on the friendly, neutral expression, the same that had been a moment ago.
“No need to worry, the questions won’t be about you, but about Dr. Lukas Gasztold. He’s your therapist.”
Obviously, Miss Gustavsson knew that Gasztold was her therapist … A psychotherapist. She went to him twice a week. Allex had gotten used to the fact that Dr. Gasztold’s patients were scared by the badge, by the very mention of the FBI, and couldn’t decide how to talk to him – looking down, as they would usually look at a shabby guy in shabby shoes, too young to be an agent, or looking up, obsequiously, so that Allex wouldn’t get wind of their dealings …
Allex Serret had no interest in the affairs and petty dirty tricks of wealthy clients of successful psychiatrists. His focus was on killers, especially serial killers, especially those who calmly wandered the streets of Baltimore and committed another cruel and terrible crime.
While he’s been going door-to-door interviewing possible – but unlikely – witnesses, his new team has been sent to re-examine the latest crime scene since Special Agent William Gatti has had another epiphany.
“Yes, of course,” Miss Gustavsson replied. “Please come in.”
Allex crossed the threshold of the dollhouse, walked inside along a bright corridor, past a wide mirror in a golden frame, interior items that would fit in the style of a museum, and not a modern city apartment … In the reflection, out of the corner of his eye, he saw himself: a dissonant spot of a green khaki jacket, disheveled chestnut hair – an image that seemed completely out of place, as if from another universe, which ended up in an aristocratic nest not according to plan.
“Can I offer you tea, coffee?”
Wilhelmina Gustavsson, twenty-five years old, lives with her stepfather in a luxurious three-story apartment in the elite Mount Royal Terrace neighborhood of Reservoir Hill. She is a professional singer, has never been convicted of any offenses and has not participated in bon ton scandals, almost nothing is known about her and her past, despite the publicity of her person. Miss Gustavsson has been Gasztold’s patient for four years, has never missed a session and has not even been late … Allex assumed the latter from the portrait formed literally in a few seconds of observing the golden-haired artiste, he did not have to make an effort to notice such trifles.
Miss Gustavsson’s hairdo is a perfect hair, the golden strands down to her shoulders combed and carefully arranged in waves; her low-heeled shoes – she is over six feet tall – shine like new, her blouse and suit pants are custom-made, each fold of the light fabric a detail, a stroke on a work of art; her figure is straight, and her waist is narrow, her movements are fluid, like a cat’s – the one with large ears, a lean body, long bony legs, and no hair …
Miss Gustavsson was much more beautiful than the strange cat, and for some reason Allex stared at her and did not immediately answer the question.
“Tea, please.”
“Black, green, white, red …”
Why so complicated? He should have asked for coffee – or not asked for anything at all … Allex already regretted that he had not gotten down to business right away. He was probably so tired that he had lost his vigilance – and had fallen for that unfortunate tea.
“Black one. Without lemon, without bergamot, without sugar, without anything, but with hot water … Thank you.”
Miss Gustavsson smiled a little wider, condescendingly and understandingly. Allex sighed.
They were still standing in the middle of the spacious living room, with its armchairs with intricately curved legs, its marble fireplace surround, and the cozy attributes that made up a cleaning service’s nightmare on a regular basis.
“Please sit down,” the young woman pointed towards the couch, the pouf, and the coffee table, “I’ll bring some tea.”
Idiot, Allex scolded himself mentally, looking around, sitting on the silk seat