Menacing Signs

If Psychofairy starts to correspond with a woman, somebody will soon die around there.

NUPTIALS OF DEATH

If you haven't read the previous episode yet, click here

They argued through half Montmartre until they finally got their peace. In the hotel, Máté read the woman's blog whilst Anna was clicking the TV remote. Work-related disease.
– Still it's not nice of you to cover it up from me. It's super exciting – Máté was groaning.
– Don't start it again! – Anna shook her head.
– I would never have thought of this saas being you. The front-line warrior of emancipation. No rights to the men!
– I just tried what it would be like, to think like this.
– And?
– I'll just stick to myself.
– So you just throw fits to get what you want rather than going to protest or to court.
– You're being scum, I'm not even a hysteric one... – she pouted.

They were silent for a bit. Máté read on.
– I really, really don't like this Psychofairy. If he starts correspondence with a woman, somebody will soon die around there.
– You're just jealous of him, that's all your problem. Anyways, what could be his link to the husband's death?
Máté fell in his thoughts.

– I think the question is whether there's anything between this woman and Psychofairy. What did you say, what was her name?
– Anita.
– So did this Anita ever meet Psychofairy?
– I don't know, but why is it important?
– Because it was Psychofairy and saas provoking the woman. Those are the comments where I can feel that pressure overload that may signal involvement. I don't think you murdered the guy...
– Thanks! – Anna interrupted.
– … because you couldn't have made a trip from Paris without me noticing it...
– I could've just hired some hitmen…
– True – Máté laughed –, so it's you and Psychofairy being personally inovolved in the case. What if Psychofairy fell in love with the gal and they hooked up? There's the motive...

– Doesn't seem to be probable.
– Why?
– Like, she never mentioned in her blog that she has a lover.
– This woman wanted to get pity out of others. If she posts how much fun she has with one of her commenters, the sympathy is gone. Speaking of which! Psychofairy is from Pécs, where is she from?
– I don't know. She never mentioned. I guess it was on purpose, so they can't get too close to her.
– Call her and ask her!
– Now? – Anna asked, pointing at the clock. – It's 2am.
– If she's asleep, I guess she turns her phone off.

Anna reached for her cell phone, but before she could've unlocked the keys, she tossed it on the bed.

- It's all just stupid!
– What? – asked Máté.
– What would the husband's death have to do with the blog? You just want to incriminate Psychofairy, and I go blindly after you. What if it was the mafia icing him? If they put him out of circulation for some business stuff? Isn't it more likely?
– No – Máté shook his head confidently.
– And why are you so sure about this? – Anna asked, pulling her legs under herself.

Máté knew this motion well, it was the sign of locking up for her girlfriend. At these times, she tried to unconsciously get rid of his intellectual effect on her. He jumped up, walked around the room and sat down intentionally in a way that he would touch Anna.
– Because she thinks the murder has something to do with her blog. And if she feels so, you can be pretty sure it is so. So, will you call her?

Giving up, Anna reached for the phone. A sleepy voice moaned on the other end of the line, but she got immediately more lively as the hostess introduced herself.
– Oh, is that you? I just dozed off a bit... – she was excusing herself.
– I'm sorry to bother you so late, but could you tell me where you live?
– At Siófok.
– It must be cool, next to the Balaton…
– Yeah, we sure do love it too!

Máté was silently signing to her what else to ask, but Anna waved no.
– Could I have a personal question?
– Of course!
– Do you have anything going with you and Psychofairy?

She was silent for a moment before she answered.
– No, nothing. Why do you think so?
– You two never met in person?
– Never.
– Phone calls, e-mails?
– Nope. Just all that you can see in the blog. Why do you ask?
– Ah, nothing. Not important, just forget about it.
– You sure don't make extra rounds if you want to learn something. Boom, to the middle...
– That's my job.

They were both silent.
– Then once again, sorry for bothering you late! – the hostess finished up the conversation.
– I'm glad you called me – she answered on the other end of the line, not too convincingly.

– Have you seen this yet? – Máté showed his PDA to Anna when she got off the phone.
– The entry is old, but the comment is from the day before yesterday.
She had to read the sentence twice.

In deathly nuptials, ore meets ore, And life acquits in mourning galore?

– I have no idea what it is – she said finally, – but it does sound really creepy. Do you think this Sangel knows something?
– I'm sure he knows more than we do. One more sign to start off on.

*

The hacker suddenly stopped typing. He grabbed his fingers off the keyboard as if it burnt him. He was listening. The computer was quietly whirring.
Dávid Seres was officially editing the show In the Line of Fire, but in reality he was their resident hacker.

– I got attacked! – he yelled excitedly, even though there was nobody else in the room. He quickly quit all applications one by one, then he finally connected an external hard drive loaded with fake informations and special antivirus softwares to his USB drive, whilst he locked up the internal HDD.

– Now you're over! – he said out loud, still not bothering about not having an audience.
He leaned back in success. He knew exactly what's happening on his computer. The spyware will start reading the fake information, and in the meantime, the antivirus he wrote himself will read the intruder bit by bit, then it will smooth itself into the data seamlessly. Dávid spent all his free time with writing and perfecting this program ever since an intruder broke into his computer a year ago, read all his e-mails and brutally murdered the woman with whom he was just about to get more serious.

And free time he had a lot of, as even though he had already gotten over the murder, and he even started dating a similarly monitor-faced girl, in reality they rarely met. At first they were planning on moving in together, but soon they decided against it, as they realized they are perfectly fine in cyberspace. They were in a near-constant connection via the computers, physical contact would occur only on Tuesdays - on the card nights of Dávid's parents.

As the spyware left the computer, a new window popped up on his screen. He was scrolling down the coded lines and nodded quickly.
– So you came back… – he mumbled to himself and reached for the phone.

He couldn't reach his boss, Máté Farkas, so he tried with Anna.
– Dávid, what the heck do you want? It's 3am at home too – she asked, but her voice told that she wasn't sleeping yet.
– Is it really that late? Well, then tell the hackers not to attack the office at night. Is Máté there?

Over the noise of passing the phone he could still clearly hear the words insane, fucking computer geek.
– Tell Anna I love her too – said Dávid laconically as the editor-in-chief answered the phone.
– I hope that's not the only reason you called me to tell this, is it? – asked Máté half-joking and half-angrily. Dávid never knew exactly how things were with his boss.
– We got a trojan. Just like the previous one, just a little further developed.
– Are you sure? – asked Máté.
– Well, not quite a hundred per cent – answered Dávid, as he still wanted to run a few more tests on it before giving the final answer to others, even though his guts already told him the truth.
– Wait a sec. let me move over so I get better reception. Okay, we can talk now. Did he get into the system? – the editor-in-chief was worried.
– All he could get was the fake data. I picked up the glove. Now I will catch him, no matter who it is!
– That's what you said last year, and… – the editor-in-chief didn't finish his sentence.
– I know exactly what happened, but it won't ever happen again!
– Still, be careful! Do it only if it's a thousand per cent safe. If you think it's him, we immediately have to get the police involved. We can't do the same mistake twice – Máté reminded the hacker.
– OK, no worries. Now I know who we are facing.
– Don't mention it to Anna yet. Ah, and one more thing – he switched topics. – Can we find out who are the regular commenters on a blog?
– I haven't really had any experience with blogs yet, but I'm sure there is a way to remain anonymous, guaranteed. Why, do you want to drop a few nasty ones?
– No, just the opposite, I want to find out of the others.
– Don't tell me you're writing a blog too?
– No – Máté answered impatiently. – There's this blog, it's not mine, nor is it Anna's. A woman, you don't know her. She asked us to find some info of the people who comment on her regularly. Is there a way to do it?
– Tell me where I can find that blog, I will take a look!

Dávid didn't want to use the virus-ridden computer, so he just scribbled the address to a piece of paper. A bit later that paper floated off to the floor, and remained right there.

Silenced Secrets

The most popular show hostess of the country was spotted amongst drugged celebrities. It is suspected that she does cocaine regularly, too.

NUPTIALS OF DEATH

If you didn't read the previous episode yet, click here

In the meantime, night has fallen. There was not a single open spot left at the terrace of the café. Máté arrived back with a mischievous smile and two glasses of wine, but his jolly mood quickly vanished as he saw Anna.

– What happened? – he asked concerned.
– Nothing – Anna answered, faking neutrality.
– Nah... I left you here all happy, and now you're pale and grumpy.
– I got some bad news from home.
– Bad news? What?

Anna was feverishly thinking of some lightweight, white lie, but finally she decided against it. When she hooked up with Máté, she swore to herself that she will always be honest to him. Well, obviously not always in all the everyday little things or innocent flirts, just in the important cases.

She took a deep breath and she got it out:
– I left you out on something. You won't like it.
Máté tried to cover up his worries.
– Whilst I was chatting with the waiter, you fell for some French guy?
– No, please don't joke around now, Máté! – Anna stopped him and put her hand on his arm, who, for this, gave a little wave of surrender.
– Tell me.
– I got an email in July that brought my attention to a female blogger and her postings.

The man sighed, relieved:
– So you started to write your own blog, opening yourself up irresponsibly, because you were behind the mask of anonimity, but now you got caught. Somebody found out that the blog is written by a TV star, and the whole Hungarian tabloid scene is munching on your story – he dished it all in one breath. Anna tried to object, but Máté didn't let her speak. – Know what? Let's just move here, and ask for a refugee status, because at home your colleagues are hunting you...
– Shut up! – she placed a finger over his lips, trying to pacify him, but he just shoved it away with a nervous move.
– As a matter of fact, I would like to read it too, even though I suspect that I wouldn't completely enjoy every single page of it...

– Please listen to me! – she got louder. – It's bullshit! – she added a lot less securely, as she was actually writing a blog on another portal and she was actually panicked by the possibility of being discovered. She never told anyone about it, not even Máté. She showed too much of herself.

He sipped his wine pouting.
– Psychofairy is also in the community – she added after some silence.
Máté slammed his glass angrily on the table. The noise was so loud that the people sitting nearby rose their heads and got curious about the scene.
– You're meeting up with that drugged-up shithead? – the editor hissed from behind his teeth.
– No, we're not meeting up, I haven't even seen him, he only wrote me an e-mail or two, that's all.
Anna put her hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

– And anyways, he's not a druggie! – Anna was defending Psychofairy poutingly.
– If I recall correctly, the cops picked him up with a load of weed…
– To be exact, it was an insignificant amount, they didn't even press charges.
– I bet only because he incriminated his buddies!
– Don't be prejudicial! After all, whilst we're at topic, your so-beloved Orsi doesn't quite say no to drugs either – Anna burst out in jealousy.

– And where did you get that one from? Which "gossip magazine"?
Now it was Máté grabbing her shoulder. Anna was silent, so he shook her.
– Let me go!
The Parisians were watching them again, but since the wrestling was over, and they couldn't figure a word out of the odd-language argument, they started to enthusiastically discuss what they've just seen.

– So, how do you think that Orsi does drugs? – Máté asked in a low voice.
– If you really want to know, from the exact same person as you do!
He stared at Anna in surprise who added with a determined look:
– You bet I did a little interrogation with Szilvi. I know everything about that certain day…

The twenty-something redhead clinged to Máté at a bar a year ago, she wanted to be an intern in his office for any price. On the day Anna mentioned, Szilvi created the distraction Máté needed to sneak into the office of the programming director. His suspense was fulfilled. Hidden in the writing desk he found the solid evidence about the crimes of Márkus.

The night before Anna followed him to the Balaton, but - as it turned out later - a few miles off of the place where he was hiding Orsi, she lost him. She spent the rest of the night with her parents, whilst Máté was plotting the secret entry with the red demon.

Anna wasn't quite convinced about his explanation that he set a trap for Márkus with Szilvi and not with her because he was afraid of the programming director's possible repercussions. She visited Szilvi at her usual spot, got her drunk and then she promised her to get her in to Criminal News as a reporter if she tells her the story of all their meetings with Máté in detail. That's how Anna learned about the VIP group doing drugs at the bar called Big Boat. There were a few show hosts of Channel Three too. From Szilvi's description, Anna immediately recognized Orsolya Manner.

– But Szilvi didn't know anything about Orsi... – Máté was astonished.
– She found it out later. She really does have some guts! So it's your little Orsi a druggie, not Psychofairy. And I really haven't met him not a single time, not even when you were breaking arms and legs and leaving In The Line Of Fire in the pit as you ran to be the editor-in-chief for Snapshots when that pitting whore snapped her fingers.
– Stop it now! You know it very well that I only took that position because of the express wish of the CEO, because of the interest of the channel, so I can keep an eye on the hostess who got into some serious mental downhill.
– The question is, do you keep an eye on her in her bed too?
– You're unjust! – he yelled.
– And you're a hypocrite. You preach about honesty, but when I tell you something you don't want to hear, you immediately lunge at me.

Máté tried to riposte, but she didn't let him speak.
– Now can I finally tell you what is it all about?
The man kept pouting in silence.
– A woman is in deep trouble. She wrote a blog about her marriage, and now it has turned out that her husband was…

Máté's silence was apparently the silence before the storm that just broke out:
– I don't give a fuck about some whiny cunt, if until now you wanted to chat about it with Psychofairy, not with me.

Instead of answering him, Anna stood up and with determined steps she left off towards Rue Montmartre. A lonely, dark-haired man winked at her with a mischievous smile. If Máté's eyes could've killed, he would've dropped down dead. With wide gestured, the dark-haired man motioned to him that he knows exactly who is with whom, and that he was just joking. From another table, two older ladies were motioning to Máté too, urging him to go after Anna.
– It’s too complicated – he mumbled in English, as at the moment no French words came to his mind.
– No, it isn’t – one of them tried to encourage him. – Just do it! – she urged him.

Rue St Denis was way too close to them for a young and attractive woman to be walking around alone at this late hour, so he just tossed a fifty-euro bill on the table and left after Anna. Some people signed a V for him, another guy was popping his muscles, hence telling him to be hard. All in all, the French had an amusing time with the fighting foreign couple.

At Rue Montmartre there were still way enough people so that Máté could follow Anna around unseen. By Rue Réaumur she could still catch the green, but he had to wait through the line of cars. He lost sight of his girlfriend. He got tired of this hide-and-go-seek, he turned his cell phone on. He was just entering Anna's number as he got a text message. He wanted to just leave it there, but when he saw it came from Orsi, he read the message.
Please tell me it's a joke! Call me, I beg you!

He looked at the screen confused, then he called Orsi. It rang, but she didn't answer. He glanced at his watch, it was ten past ten. He called her home number, still nothing.
He deleted the message so Anna won't accidentally run into it, and he speeded up his steps.

*

Manner was sitting in the bathtub, so she couldn't hear the phone ringing. She got so knocked out on Friday that the next day she decided to give up drinking. She locked herself in her apartment. She was dying for a sip of rum, but when she thought of herself, how she woke up in her armchair, half naked, soiling herself, she even lost the will to drink. She knew the physical symptoms well, but she didn't know what to do with the pricks of conscience. She didn't go to the meeting, even though Máté would've needed her help. She kept calling him, but he never turned her phone on. That night she went to bed early, and even though she had to withstand the torments of hell, she stayed strong and didn't even take any pills either.

The next day she was even worse, but she muscled through. On Sunday she won over herself and her fears, and in the evening she went out to City Park. She didn't even know what use it would be of, looking around two days later, she was hoping for some kind of a sign from Máté. Before she got out of her car, she put a scarf over her blond hair and put on a fashionable pair of insect eye-like, huge sunglasses that hid half her face. She could barely see in the dark, but nobody would recognize her. Her heart was beating around two hundred when she reached the spot. She hid behind a giant tree as she looked around. Only a few dog-walkers.

She just wanted to run away, her body was all sweaty. She forced herself to step out from the protection of the tree. As she got to the center of the clearing, suddenly peace flowed through her body. She stopped ad listened. Then she even closed her eyes and let her thoughts roam free.

She heard a crack behind her back.
She spun around on her heels.
No matter how she was looking, she couldn't see anything suspicious.
Something cracked behind her.
She turned her head that way.
Nothing.
She took her glasses off, but she still couldn't see a thing.

She turned around another three or so times when she thought she heard scary noises. She knew it would be wisest to go back to her car before she completely panics, but she was just unable to leave the clearing.

– Are you all right? – a male voice boomed at her.
Her whole body was shaking, she couldn't answer.
– Are you sick? – the voice asked.
– Please don't hurt me! – breathed Orsi.
– Nah, I just want to help!
The man was heading towards Orsi, and she was backing off desperately.
The sixty-ish man stopped.
– Calm down, it's all right! – he smiled.

As if she woke up from a dream, Orsi was knocked back into reality. The person who scared her so much was a well-dressed, grey haired man, seemingly an intellectual, with clear, blue eyes. Around his legs, a medium-sized, black mutt was dashing around.

– Excuse me, don't we know each other from somewhere? – he asked, scanning her face.
– No, I don't think so – the hostess answered. She got used to everyone thinking they know her just because they see her on TV.
– Oh, I know! – he slapped his thighs in joy. – You're some news anchor for one of the TV channels.
– Oh, I just resemble her – she lied, puting her sunglasses back on.

– Nah, I can point your eyes out from a thousand, don't even cover them up with those glasses.
Orsi, instead of going on in denial as usual, now took off her glasses and smiled at the man.
– Thanks for the compliment!

Somehow she felt safe with the older man.
– Could you sign an autograph for my granddaughter? She adores you. She wants to study to be a news anchor too.
– Oh God NO! – she mumbled.
– Pardon me?
– Ah, nothing. Could you help me a little?
– At your service!
– Have you been here Friday walking your dog too?
– Yeah, I take him out every night.
– Around this time?
– It depends on what's on TV. Like, on Friday I was here quite a bit later.
– Around midnight? – asked excitedly Orsi.
– Around so.

She started to home she can find out something about the mysterious message. He asked if he has seen a man like Máté around.
– No. There was only a young couple lovin' each other around. And a forty-five-ish man was walking around, he even scared the girl. He was whistling around for his dog, but I never saw the animal anywhere.
– What did he look like? – Orsi asked.
– Well, I don't know, it was dark. He had that characterless face. Average. Neither tall nor short.
– Nothing specific about him? His hair, his clothes...?

The man sunk in his thoughts.
– I'm sorry – he opened his arms.
Orsi nodded sadly.
– Thanks anyways.
– Thank you for chatting with me. Where did you park your car? This area at night is not for pretty, lonely young ladies.

Orsi was surprised, how did he think she's by car, but she didn't ask. She didn't want to hear the stereotype that news anchors are all rich. The dog-lover accompanied her to the Audi. He got his autograph, and as a farewell, he advised her to be careful with those who call her to such dangerous places at night.

The hostess gave his words a thought.
– How? – she asked troubled, but by that time the man was gone, as if the earth had swallowed him.

Caught In A Net Of Lies

A more and more radical community was gathering around the blog. Many of them have been encouraging her to openly face off with the despotic husband.

NUPTIALS OF DEATH

If you haven't read the previous episode yet, click here

Anita was wide awake by 6am, even though it was well past 2am when she finally got to sleep. She felt the bed next to herself. Empty. She ran across the house, but her husband was still not at home. She finally gave up her pride and called his cell phone, but it was only the voicemail. She turned the radio on and started to make breakfast and coffee.

Five minutes before seven, her son stumbled out of his room with sleepy eyes.
– Sanyi? – he asked instead of a good-morning.
– Not yet at home.
– Did he go out of town somewhere?
– No... or well, I don't know, um, maybe, I think so – Anita stuttered.
– Normally you always know – said Romi with some reproach in his voice, and he marched off to the bathroom.

Throughout the morning Anita called her husband's cell phone several times, to no avail. She looked for him at the company too, but nobody answered the phone. If they had a bigger order coming in, Sándor would schedule people for Saturdays as well. She called the secretary too, but she didn't know anything about him either. They weren't working this weekend. Around eleven she finally reached the co-owner of the LLC, he was in Vienna, shopping with his family. He has last seen Sándor Friday morning, since then he tried to reach his cell phone several times, but to no avail still.
– Zsolt, do you think they will laugh at me at the police if I report he didn't come home? – asked Anita unsecurely.
– Why would they laugh at you? That's their job, to find him!
– They will just think he's at his mistress' place… – she bluffed.
– Why, does he have a mistress? – the business partner asked, maybe just a moment too slow.
– Don't tell me you don't know of it!
– Of what? – he asked back, now without a delay.
Anita was silent.
– Look, I know it hasn't been quite cool between the two of you lately, but all in all, Sanyi is not a bad guy. Best is if you just call the police.
– What did he tell you about us two?
– Not much. Something like that you just kind of cooled apart…
– Yeah, something like that, cooled apart – said Anita sarcastically.
– Now what the heck is wrong?
– Nothing, forget it. If he does contact you, make sure you call me immediately!
– But of course. You too, if you learn something!

Anita shared her plan with the bloggers too. Neither Psychofairy, nor saas have answered. She waited until the early afternoon hours, until then most have approved her idea about telling the police. A few minutes after two she dialed 112. (translator's note: 112 is the general emergency hotline in Hungary, similar to 911 in the US) The officer on duty tried to act empathetic, but in his voice Anita could almost hear a little male chauvinistic cynism.

The body was found by the security guard the next day, in the late afternoon. He was bored, so he decided to take a walk around the whole grounds. He noticed the collapsed fence. He went some closer and he could see the new, clean cut marks on the wire. He called his boss over the radio, and following the footsteps he headed to the rear warehouse building. He lost track on the concrete flooring. He looked through all the barrels, and in the first row all seemed untouched. He was always curious what those rusty old drums may hide, but his boss always said it's better for him not to ask around.

In the second row one lid was out of place. He went closer and noticed the knife too. Somebody stuck it through the rusty steel. A pungent odor was present. With an iron rod he knocked the lid off. As soon as he leaned over the barrel he started retching. A smoking, bloody mass of flesh was boiling at the bottom of the tank. The blade went through the wall of the barrel straight into his back, but there was a huge, gaping wound on his throat too.

One of the policemen arriving to the scene recalled a woman reporting the disappearance of her husband the previous day.
Early next morning the corpse was identified by his teeth.

*

Monday evening in Paris, around the beginning of Montorgueil street, Anna Somos, show host of Criminal News was drinking house bordeaux on the terrace of Bistrot de St Eustache when her cell phone notified her of a new text message.

The husband was murdered. Psychofairy

Máté Farkas went off to find the waiter about ten minutes before. Anna turned back and pressed her hand againt the window as she peeked in. Her lover was widely gesturing as he was explaining something to the waiter. He had an impossible talent for making long conversations with parisians on the fifty French words he spoke. And for the question what the heck can he be discussing with complete strangers, he usually gave a one-word answer accompanied by a mysterious little smile: Women. Or wine. Or cheese.

Anna keyed in the number from where the text came. Not available. Using that her mate was not around, she turned her PDA on. She got it from Máté for her birthday. He was fond of digital gadgets. At first she thought that one goes in the pile of useless gifts too, but when he taught her how can she connect to the internet from any point of the world, she slowly became an addict.

She immediately found a free wireless network, in Paris that wasn't a problem. After she ran through her e-mails, she went to the blog portal where a desperate wife was sharing her most intimate secrets and problems day by day, and with shocking honesty. Anna followed her blog regularly, and often, on a fake name, acting as a glorified warrior of women's rights, she commented on the entries.

The day before the blogger was horrified to tell that her aggressive husband suddenly disappeared without a trace. She was blaming herself for it, she thought her partner disappeared because of the blog. True, lately a more and more radical community has been gathering around the blog. Many of them were encouraging her to openly face off her despotic husband, to protect herself, even by violence, if so needed. Especially a person nicknamed Psychofairy was on the revolt side. It was exactly because of him that Anna never told Máté about her new passion.

A year ago, three TV show hostesses were brutally murdered, and one was kidnapped. Anna got into the investigation as a reporter for the show In the Line of Fire. A slightly over-aged college student from Pécs was giving psychic-mental advices to one of the victims under the name Psychofairy, that's how he got in the scope of suspense. Anna, together with Máté, who then was the editor-in-chief of In the Line of Fire, have found out his identity, and they even made an interview him, covering the purpose as a sociological study. Anna was really diggin' the guy. She loved her long black hair, tawny skin, harsh Balcanic profile, and she made no secret out of it. Máté was seriously jealous about the college "kid". The situation was further scrambled by the fact that this was the very trip to Pécs where Anna first slept with Máté. Psychofairy finally cleared himself of any charges, but the editor did not believe in his innocence at all.

Anna hasn't met the man a single time since the investigation was over. She almost forgot about him when he wrote her an e-mail a few months ago, mentioning the blog of this woman. They have exchanged a few mails, but it was always about the woman and her sufferings, never a word about themselves or them together. Even though nothing has happened between them, Máté would've felt horrible if he found out she has been e-mailing the man whom he's the most jealous of behind his back. So Anna just remained silent of the blog, Psychofairy and the humiliated woman.

She peeked in the window again. Máté was still conversing with the waiter. At the moment they were just patting each other's back.

Quickly she read through the newest entry of the blog. The husband never went home. His mutilated corpse was found at a lonely factory grounds. The poor woman was blaming herself for the death. She was desperately asking for some help from the blog community.

Anna, driven by a sudden idea, sent her a short message saying that it was her writing under the name saas, left her e-mail address and asked for the wife's phone number. She sent the message private, to keep her incognito throughout the rest of the community.

Just a minute later her e-mail arrived with the phone number.

*

The news of Sándor's death just knocked her out. It's different to imagine something than having to face it happened. The officers didn't tell her over the phone. They just asked her to go to the station as they have news about her husband's disappearance. She felt the trouble, she couldn't even hold back on the street, she arrived to the police station weeping. They sat her down and offered her some water.

– He's... dead, isn't he?
One of the officers was nodding sadly, but the other immediately asked back:
– Why do you think so, madam?
– This whole thing... the way you called me here... and the way you're looking at me... – Anita stuttered.
– My sincerest condolences, madam, your husband was murdered.

She has no recollection of the rest. They said something about the dentist IDing him, but she paid no attention to how they got to the doctor. She just kept repeating she wants to see the body, even thought the officers tried to dissuade her. They couldn't convince her, so they agreed that first she just takes a peek from afar, and she only goes closer to the autopsy table if she thinks she will be strong enough. She wasn't. As the pathologist took the sheet off the body, she fainted. On the table laid a shapeless, bloody mass of flesh, it didn't even resemble a human. What stroke her the hardest was recognizing the checked shirt she got him for Christmas the year before.

At home she tried to write the pain out, but this time not even the blog could bring her peace. She was anxious to get any advice in the comments, how to deal with such a huge pain. A few people dropped a line, but all of them were the usual, generic clichés.

She forced herself to get up from the computer and go to the bathroom so she can correct her makeup. Rómeó was just about to arrive. She didn't want him to be scared not just by the death announcement but also by the pitiful look of her mother. He was already psyched out by his father not returning all weekend. And that's when her phone rung.

– Maybe it's Sándor – it flashed through her brain, just like every single time her phone rung throughout the past two days. The pain just struck her with an unbearable force, she started crying again.

The caller ID gave her no number. A pleasant female voice was on the other end of the line. She was listening to the condolences numb, and she only rose her head when the voice told her she has been writing to her under the name saas. She was absolutely moved and started crying again when she introduced herself. Somehow everything suddenly seemed a lot easier this way. After all, it's the star of Criminal News who has been giving her advice. Her tongue set loose and all the questions that she never dared to even think up about the disappearance of her husband burst out of her.

to be continued next Thursday

Temptations

It's suffering that opens the gate to pleasure. But beware if your secret comes to light…

What would YOU do if you had to choose between the life of your untrue lover and the life of a complete stranger, and your choice was watched by millions of your fans LIVE?

NUPTIALS OF DEATH

If you didn't read the previous part, click here

Hours passed unnoticed whilst Anita was writing her blog. She suddenly heard somebody scratching on the door. She shrugged. She exited the blog portal and tiptoed to the hall. In the doorway, her son jumped into her neck.

– -Mom, you're home? – he was surprised. – Grandma said you're still at work, that's why you can't come to pick me up.
– I slipped away – she smiled mischievously to her son –, how was school?
– And you, why didn't you come to pick Romi up? You know how much my feet hurt – her mother yelled at Anita who was still meddling with the school bag in the door. Usually it was her picking the kid up after school, and he stayed with her until Anita was done at work.
– I got sick, I asked to leave early.
– Oh, aren't you...? – her mother's face shone up.
– No, Mom, I'm not pregnant. I told you a thousand times, we don't want any more children.
– Then why didn't you come to pick Rómeó up? I work my guts out for you, and you just siesta around at home.
– I told you I got sick. I took some medicine and I laid down so I can get better by tomorrow. We have an important deadline, I can't call in sick.
– I can't either, even though I thought by my retirement years I would have a little time for myself… – the woman just kept grunting. Luckily Romi interrupted her:
– Is Sanyi home yet?

Her husband got the kid to call him by first name. Anita never understood why Dad wasn't okay for him, but she didn't want to start a fight on that.
– Not yet!
– I'm sure he's again out drinking with his buddies! – her mother added.
– Yea – groaned Anita gloomily, then she turned to her son, forcing a smile on her face:
– Have you had dinner yet?
– Yup – nodded Rómeó –, can I watch TV?
Anita just wanted to say no, but when she thought she could sit back to her blog, she allowed him half an hour.
She could hardly wait until her mother left, she ran to her computer.
At the afternoon post, there was Sangel's message in its full glory:

In deathly nuptials, ore meets ore, And life acquits in mourning galore…
She was just about to delete the ill omen of a sentence when she noticed another Sangel comment a few lines lower.
It's suffering that opens the gate to pleasure. But beware if your secret comes to light…

She shivered. Christ Almighty, who are you, and what do you want from me? – she whispered, and she quickly deleted the messages.

*

Orsolya Manner could barely wait until Snapshots ended. On the way home, in her car she couldn't even remember what the show was about. She kept calling Máté every five minutes, but to no avail, the editor-in-chief didn't switch his cell phone on for a second. In despair, she tried to call Anna Somos too, but the number she had in her directory was not active anymore. Máté's girlfriend must have immediately switched numbers after she became a show host so she can avoid the journalists sniffing after her private life.

Orsi knew it exactly that Anna hates her to death. And not even without a reason. Even though Anna most likely had no idea, Orsi slept with Máté the night before she was kidnapped to try and persuade him to take over the editing of Snapshots. The traces of their passion were found by the police in her empty apartment, so the editor got suspicious too. The cops only got off of his back when he risked his life to trap the kidnapper and serial killer, the programming director of Channel Three.

Orsi had to thank Máté that she got out of her captivity alive. She didn't want to be ungrateful to her savior, so she decided she will go to the park meeting even if she dies from fear. She planned to run home for some strength concoctions, then she takes a cab to the meeting spot. She won't let the driver go, so she won't be alone, whatever happens.

She didn't even take her shoes off at home before she headed straight for the bar. Her hands were shaking as she opened a bottle of white rum, and poured a tumbler full of it. Before she always drank cocktails, but after a while the filler ingredients just got lost. She chugged it down. Even though it burnt her throat, she didn't shiver from it. The knot in her body loosened immediately. She turned the computer on, but she couldn't wait until the system started up, she filled another glass.

– The last one – she said out loud to make her decision even more binding.
She got a bunch of emails, all spam. Nothing from Máté.
Deep in her heart she was hoping that the editor-in-chief would get back to her and it turns out the whole secret meeting thing was just a bad joke.
Now that the last ray of hope vanished, she gave the fight with the demon up and opened the medicine cabinet. First she only put one bright-colored pill for herself, but she got weak again, and dug another five out from the bottom of the bottle.

She washed it all off with some rum.
She was undressing with slow, unsure moves. She hasn't seen the editor-in-chief in a week. She tried not to think of it, but his e-mail just messed everything up. If he starts something, that annuls their agreement that there will be no continuation to whatever happened the night before she was kidnapped. She wanted to appear on the meeting that she would leave no chances to Anna Somos if Máté got unsure. She was selecting in her closet for long, but she couldn't find a dress she would've found satisfactory. She glanced at the clock: it was just barely past 10.30. She poured another glass of rum and she flopped down to the armchair.

*

Anita waited for her husband until a quarter till midnight, then she went to bed. Her head was hurting, she was dead tired, and still she couldn't sleep. She was staring into the dark until her eyes got dry.

Sándor came home randomly. If there was a good company at her usual bar, he would stay out until dawn. Her feminine instinct, however, told her that this time he was not in the bar with the buddies. He changed in a very worrying way ever since she revolted against him. He drank less often, but then he was more insatiable. At those times, in one moment he was sweeter than honey, and in the next one, with no inbetweens, he turned violent on her.

He never hit her anymore, but his words hurt more than any beating. He slurred her, called her a slut, incapable of raising children. He was threatening her that he would take Rómeó to his parents, because he only learns nasty things from his mother.

After they were over-bidding each other in throwing select obscenities at each other, Anita usually broke down crying and locked herself in the study to confess everything to her blog. Well, almost everything. But she never made it a secret that she had played with the idea several times, how to get rid of her husband once and for all.

When she got ashamed of it, her core readers were comforting her by saying that fantasizing about a crime is not yet a crime, and that it's much better that she lives out her aggression in writing rather than in deeds. They encouraged her not to retreat, to keep out by her rights. She was especially keen on the advice of Psychofairy and a woman called saas. Their friendship gave her strength.

When she sometimes felt pity for Sándor and almost let herself be tempted to bed, she thought, what would they think of her weakness, and she refused his approaches. Now she wanted to fit for them, not for her husband. She didn't even care anymore if Sándor turns to whores because of it.

Soon she was so hungry for some intimacy that she took the advice of saas: she should look for happiness elsewhere. Sándor must have felt something, because between the waves of cutesiness and aggression, he mixed depression more and more often. Sometimes she was afraid he would harm himself.

After ten minutes of tossing and turning, she realized that no matter how hard she tries, she won't fall asleep. She put on her bathrobe and a thick pair of socks. She carefully opened the door of her son's room. The quiet, even breathing calmed her down a bit.

She turned the computer on, and listening towards the hall, she pulled the fresh comments. Sangel wrote again, just the same as before, with only one difference. This time the sentence ended with a question mark.
She reached for the Delete button as if she had to crush a cockroach with her bare finger. She shivered. She decided that the next day she will find out if she can ban this madman named Sangel from her blog somehow. She didn't even notice how Sangel dropped his riddle to entries from weeks before.

*

He would've been surprised if she came. He knew exactly that she has been dreading anything and everything ever since she got out of the kidnapper's captivity. She saw her drink herself under the table every single night. And she didn't say no to drugs either, so reaching her was child's play.

She won't kill her, not even if she comes. Not yet. Water and Fire have to unite in steam first.

She just wants to scare her. So she can feel he's after her. So she will see him everywhere. When she gets completely upset, she will ask for help from Máté Farkas, but by then neither of them will trust the other. If there's more Water, it will put the Fire out, but if Fire is stronger, it burns up everything.

Suddenly a branch cracked, and a shapely, twenty-ish girl stepped out from the bushes. She was crying. She must have felt she wasn't alone as she looked around scared. They looked each other in the eye.

He reached to his pocked instinctually. The girl suddenly stopped crying. She opened her mouth, but no sound could leave her.
His hand on the grip of the knife. He had to decide in a split second.
Life or death.

If he lets her live, she can recognize him later.
If she kills her, he rewrites the Death Matrix, and the consequences would be unforeseen.
Finally he just smiled instead, whistled out loud and left towards the trees.
He was waiting for the scream.

– I'm sorry, I was a jackass! – he heard from behind his back. Must have been her boyfriend. – Who was it? – he asked frightened.
– Just a dog-walker – she answered.

When he was way away by the trees, he looked back. They were kissing with such wild desperation as if they knew: life and death are divided by a little difference, small as a hair, almost nothing.

to be continued next week