The Red Box Page 2

  “If the problem is money, we can lend you some for a while,” interrupted Albert gallantly.

  “You are a great friend but you should be concerned with your priority. I’m sure Jill and myself will finish the end of the month with whatever necessary and then the new job will play its part,” answered Araon.

  “It’s up to you. You have to take a decision. At this point I have only to wish you good luck. You are great,” said Albert.

  “So, let’s talk about something else. Have you heard of the latest trend of the winter? It’s called fair game. A few men have to enter a cave that turns out to be a maze and breathe deeply up to the point of falling in trance. But, what a fool! Why should I speak such nonsense? I’m sure you are all bored. But it’s the gloom of the day that affects my mood. I invite you all to start with another topic we should enjoy to the full,” said Araon.

  “You are astonishingly garrulous, Araon. We are here for you and you want to bewitch all of us with remarkable mistakes. I consider it to be a mistake your mentioning of the fair game,” said Albert.

  “The red box. What about it?” said Jill out of the blue.

  “The red what?” answered Araon.

  “Do not worry sweetheart. It’s just me that is the problem,” said Jill politely.

  “Errr!” exclaimed Sylvanus. He was the one of the four who couldn’t cope with the situation and had nothing else to do than wait and see the day’s procedure. A single word he uttered seemed a lighting in a dark sky. “You know guys, it’s nearly time for the bar to close. I do not want to be the ultimate nuisance over here. I do not know about you. I think we have finally to go.” Sylvanus’ intervention demolished the atmosphere of embarrassment and sorted things out clearly. The other three nodded and left the table to go out smiling to the waitress who had shown more patience than required. Albert and Sylvanus left Araon and Jill and the young couple preferred to have a walk in the park before going home. “Araon.”

  “Yes darling?”

  “Do you think it’s weird that Albert and Sylvanus haven’t mentioned their latest involvement in the Wall Street affair? We have always been loyal to them and I do not know why they have hidden this curiosity from us. I have learnt about it through the grapevine.”

  “I do not know what to think, Araon. To be honest with you I noticed a strange fishy attitude of them It seemed as if they had something to hide from us not to provoke a bad reaction. But, at the end of the day. I find both of them a mixture of congeniality and compassion. To tell the truth, I didn’t even find sincere their offering of help with money. They are still our best friends, though.”

  “Jill, sweet Jill. We are a match, a perfect match. Oh look! What was it?”

  “I do not know Araon. But, sorry. I now have a pain in my back. I am not willing to walk any longer. The metro is on the corner over there, I think it’s better we go and catch the first train to go to Lucienstaag.”

  “I’m OK. Just hurry up. A match made in heaven. This is what we are.”

  The following day was full of surprises. Araon didn’t know what Jill was meditating within herself. A secret. This was what moved Jill to tears. She had accidentally heard Araon on the phone that made her suspicious. She didn’t want to keep a distance from her husband and even when he mentioned they hadn’t had a proper holiday for a long time, her being the perfect wife for him. The plan she had meditated upon recently wasn’t a successful one. She made her best to make Araon feel jealous but that had no effect in his duty to be sincere. There was a hole in Jill’s heart. A break up. was the latest of her fears. Araon was reticent and steady. He probably wasn’t the same Araon she had married fourteen years before. She made up her mind and went all alone to do shopping. At the supermarket, there were excellent offers. Cucumbers, strawberries, peaches were well placed in line, so as to display their half price offer to the public. Jill bought all of those fruits. Araon had good taste. He liked to eat anything. Even though he could boast a perfect shape for a man of that age. Jill and him were still besotted with one another. Jill was looking forward to embracing him and bringing him the joy of a kiss. She wandered around the supermarket just to have a look at the other items on sale. She was now on the second floor where clothes attracted the customers attention for being the latest items of the outlet. When Jill left the shop, she realized she hadn’t paid for the fruit. Ashamed and with a feeling of guilt, she hurried back to the cashier and with apologies paid her shopping. Maybe the reason for her absent-mindedness was her concern with Araon’s secret. He was the guilty one. But why didn’t he talk to her? And, above all, whom was he talking to on the phone the other day? She didn’t want to puzzle herself more than due. Little by little she reached home. Araon was not there waiting for her as usual. This was the second part of the mystery. Jill was a good wife. Not a perfect one, maybe, but good enough to deserve Araon’s attention whatever the reason. She dropped the bag on the floor and strawberries, cucumbers and peaches were reduced to pulp. “And now?” she uttered, “I’m not going to do shopping again. After all, Araon is not here yet. Where the hell is he? Not even a phone call boosted his sense of duty towards his wife.” Jill was going sharply mad. After a while she remembered he had an appointment with the doctor and he must have left his phone off because of the delicacy of the moment. She had just to wait patiently to see him arriving with good news. His health these days was not satisfactory and that added a note of sarcasm to Jill’s thoughts. She wanted her marriage to be a safe harbour where to rest in the moments of loneliness. She a clear plan in her mind to push her husband to confess. Or was she just worried too much? A secret is a secret. Why worry so much?” She decided to stay silent and wait for Araon to confess one of those days. The plan she had in her mind was to threaten Araon to go to Mauritius on her own very soon. But where to get the money to fulfil that whim? And, above all, how that would affect Araon’s conduct? Scattered everywhere things made Jill more vulnerable. Her patience had reached all limits. Monkey see monkey do. That was the concept she had in mind. Her way of learning subtle things resembled the monkey’s one. She stopped thinking for a while and started to clean the floor from the mash of fruit. What a pity! Araon wouldn’t have tasted them for that day. He was still queueing at the doctor. Hopefully his visit was not a very important one.

  He had been a chain smoker recently and the fear of cancer overwhelmed him. He regularly checked his lungs but today he was there for a general check-up. He went outside to light a cigarette when he heard his number called by the doctor’s assistant. The aid of the doctor was not a brilliant one. She wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Anyway, in ten minutes the visit was finished leaving Araon free to go to Jill. He handled the papers the doctor gave to him and went back home as quickly as he could. When he arrived home, Jill was hanging their washing out on their terrace. Araon was as red as a lobster.

  “What’s wrong Araon?” started Jill pretending to be surprised.

  “Don’t you remember I had a general check-up with the doctor today? Everything seems to be fine,” he said grabbing an apple from the basket in the kitchen.

  “Well, to be honest, I totally forgot it and I was a bit worried. This is an excuse to go to Mauritius and breath fresh air.”

  “Be sensible, dear. We haven’t enough money and we have to wait twenty days to start my brand-new job.”

  “We have been married for fourteen years and you still do not know me. You know I’m provoking you just to keep the flames of our passion alive. But now you must be tired. Go and have a shower right now”

  “Thank you, Grace. I simply want to be relaxed I’ll take the shower later on. How was your day?”

  “I prefer not to talk about it.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Not really. Simply, I dropped the bag of my shopping and I made a mash of the fruit.”

  “Let’s talk about politics, so”

  “That is a problem. I’m disgusted by what the government is doing nowadays. I consider
the euro a blessing, but I don’t feel it’s in tune with the economy at large. Anyway, these are difficult topics for me. We can talk about something else.”

  “And now it’s me, the one who has to say we are married for fourteen years and you still do not know me. You know politics is my way to escape, to get away. But maybe you are in the right. A shower is what I need now. It is soothing! And above all, I’m very dirty”.

  CHAPTER TWO

  To persist in having contact with reality was not an easy task for Araon. As any perfect dreamer, he loved to live in a realm of a thriving imagination rather than logically evaluate the circumstances he had to face. Reason for which he was deaf to his wife complaining. The bad weather of the season added a note of spicy flavour to his dreams. He saw himself immersed in a pile of books to an extent that went beyond imagination. Early in the morning, he polished his shoes, he shaved his beard and got himself ready to start a brand-new day full of emotions. At that time, Lucienstaag appeared as brighter than ever. Everywhere there was peace and silence. Nobody could be seen in a frame of minutes, not even the man who used to go jogging as a routine. As a heavy smoker, Araon lighted a cigarette and started soon to feel a bitter empty stomach. This last accident was tied with his fears of complaining from his wife. He snuffed out the cigarette and let his mind free to boost any weird thought. He had in mind his nickname ‘the marsupial’, a name given to him because of the handbag well joined with his belly. it didn’t serve a purpose but it made Araon look posh to the eyes of the bystanders. Once abandoned the traces of his dreams, he rushed to the traffic lights where some men pushed him away with a jostle. He didn’t dare to complain but he was obviously very disappointed. He was saved by the feelings of what he called a lantern of ideas. The condition of the traffic was the ideal means of trespassing the rules of healthy behaviour of Araon. Araon remained for ten minutes in the same position before he crossed the street at the proper traffic light warning. He was confused about the agenda of the day. The red box: what the hell was its meaning? It was something close to Jill’s mindset. Anyway, Araon was sure not to disclose any information concerning his secret. A secret is a secret and it is not enough to embitter the couple’s relationship or to cause a bad quarrel. No comment. At the moment he was safe going up and down the streets, he jumped like a monkey. Embarrassment and amusement were the nearby people’s answer to Araon’s funny walking. He regained confidence by helping an old lady to cross the street. The woman was happy to thank Araon for his help, she enjoyed herself to say she had a relationship with a man seventeen years her senior. Araon so went back to his past when, as a teenager, he had a crush for a very much older girl. He was a man of integrity. He could compare those coincidences very easily with fresh memories of the most recent past. It was Jill who come into his mind. When they first introduced one another, she pretended to be much older than her real age. But now he had a mystery to infringe and he had to set up a plan immediately. The nice woman departed from him with a kiss on his forehead. As soon as the traffic allowed him to move on, he went to the Van Gogh museum. Here was hidden his secret which Jill understood only in part. Traces of blood and a stained handkerchief didn’t accompany a corpse. When he first saw it, he immediately picked the handkerchief, cleaned the floor with it making sure nobody could see him and went to the first lab to analyze the DNA. It was possible to establish that the blood belonged to a creature dead not later than twelve hours before and it was not clear how could they move the dead body to go outside in such a brief span of time. The only thing that was sure for Araon, was that he was in the beginning of a detective story, the extent of which he was the only one to know. He didn’t know if he was stupid or not, not to confide the happening to Jill, but this was his decision. He needed to stay calm and steady in front of the options to undertake weird experiences and trials and tribulations. A headache was the result of all that stuff. He abandoned that mystery for a while and, as a coffee addict, he went to sip one in the nearest bar. His stomach was rumbling a bit and he was half-shocked. At the exit of the bar he was stopped by a policeman who intrigued him with lots of dangerous questions. Apparently, they were working on behalf of third parties and they knew nothing concerning the Van Gogh Museum matter. They left Araon earlier than foreseen and he detained his emotions not to appear guilty and responsible of a concealed murder. So moments of lucidity occupied his mind which had been severely affected by obscure bitterness. He was eager to rescuing from desperation. He loved Googling in those moments. He had not a well-established idea about what to do following those cracking episodes. Now he was busy with entertaining himself with what he called candies. They were the fruits of desperation and not of addictive function. As soon as he established a plan to follow it was already noon. He enjoyed playing games with his wristwatch. Obviously, Jill was waiting for him and a phone call was needed to announce he would be home a bit later than usual. Jill didn’t believe his excuses but decided not to pester him with questions once at home.

  On his way home Araon had a splitting headache. It was the result of his mischievous deeds. To witness the blood of a disappeared dead body and not to report it to the police was a crime. But he was sure that he could work clandestinely without interference from outside. That was the main reason why Jill had not to know. When he first saw it in the museum it was nearly the time of opening. No one but him could have found the blood, being the officers of the guard were in another room totally unaware that Araon was there. He could escape from the side exit without being seen by anybody. Jill was fed up with waiting and let Araon prepare his lunch by himself once at home. She focused herself on what to do for the rest of the day. Araon made another call but this time Jill didn’t answer, which made Araon anxious. He encountered a man with a green and blue flag he that was waving with pride. Amsterdam was the city of the free spirits. Everybody was free to express his opinion in public without the fear of being rejected by society at large. Araon didn’t know the meaning of the green and blue flag, but it served his spirit with a bit of normality. “Jill, are you still waiting for me?” he said on the phone.

  “No, go ahead. I don’t want you to be here for the moment. I think I’ll go out within half an hour. We’ll meet each other later on in the evening.”

  The streets were lit with candlelight though it was early afternoon. The lights under the sun were the symbol of a neglected artistic dash. It served a purpose: to hide the artistic sides of the citizens to satay obedient to the solemnity of their cause. But Jill was in Araon’s constant thought. He had spent the entire day meditating and wondering about the adversity of his recent past. It was an occasional disruptive casualty that made him face the situation gasping. He had constantly in mind the violet colour of the blood in the Van Gogh Museum and how could he could cope with such astonishing reality. A detective story with no beginning: this was what it meant. The hands of his wristwatch were running at unusual speed as if they had to remind him to hurry up home. He gave himself a few minutes before setting his mind for a healthy analysis of the facts. In those moments he could see darkness, nothing else. His controversial feelings for Jill had caught him as a prisoner of his imagination. He closed his eyes and saw Jill and himself cuddling each other in their tiny flat. There was a secret correspondence between the two even when they were apart from one another. Now Araon could see no clue. His heavenly thoughts came to a halt when he saw a man climbing a ladder. “Just to catch a cat from the window of this house,” was the immediate reaction of the man towards Araon. Of course he was lying. The truth was that he was deliberately seeking a man who had always claimed to be his friend and now he had threatened to commit suicide. But Araon didn’t blame the man with a mea culpa. He carried on his stroll unaware he was being chased by somebody. Somebody well-built who came out of the house Araon had just approached. It was a clear situation where there was a prey and a hunter. Araon was the right man for those circumstances. Wearing glasses, he inspired thoughts of eloquence which might be a cause of
envy from whoever watched him. The subtle man touched Araon on his back. Araon pretended not to realize there was somebody behind him. He had worn all the eloquent thoughts that he confessed to himself not to be ready to face another set of sibylline circumstances. Only when the two approached the corner of the street where a stinking dustbin was placed, they turned their glances to one another and introduced themselves.

  “Hi, I’m Araon. How do you do?”

  “Hi, I’m Philip. How do you do?”

  “What drove you to hurry up so early in the morning?” said Araon with a magnetic glance that pervaded the whole environment.

  “Actually, I came here accidentally. I’m used to watching closely whoever comes to my sight. But you have not to worry about me. I imagine you believe I have made a mistake. But the only mistake I made was to have chased the wrong person. I’m looking for a guy who has stolen my bicycle. I have seen him briefly. He is dark and tall, but I haven’t seen his face properly. I beg your pardon for my annoyance,” said Philip with a drab expression.

  Araon went silent for a while before he could utter some words,”I’m afraid I cannot help you. I came here this morning but I haven’t seen anybody suspicious with a bicycle in the surroundings. You must follow the traces of the cycling path. I know this is mundane but it is a good piece of advice.,” said Araon with a very much tempered tone.

  “If you don’t mind, I will go ahead.”

  “No, go ahead and good luck,” Araon answered promptly. Araon laced up his shoes and cuddled himself with the dwindling wind. He was sure he had met the guy before. He was a stranger with good manners, tarnished with a vein of desperation. For the first time now, he was not thinking of Jill. He had deliberately left her alone at home trying to deprive himself of the faintest sense of guilt. It was when he begun to schedule and plan a project to give an identity to the missing corpse that he felt as if he had eaten butterflies. It was not a good idea to go back to the Van Gogh Museum where people of every walk of life populated the rooms. After all, there was nothing useful he could find over there for the moment. He deserved to breath more oxygen to proceed with the investigation. The hit of pollution over Amsterdam was an excuse to distract him from his plan. He arrived soon at a turning point where the signs of the street addressed each individual to a narrow path. Araon knew now things were different from the ones of the previous day. He comforted himself with the vision of blood, immersing himself in a satanic enquiry. But it was just a frame of mind. He arrived just on time to get the first bus to Niewne Kerk. It was a tradition for him to close the steps of the co-founders of his mental journey to avoid calamities and the like. He got on the bus with a sort of religious zeal. That was it. This meant to struggle with his instincts, but he knew he would sort it out at the end. It was strange but his going up and down to the streets of Amsterdam was not a mean of burning calories. He had put on some weight recently but he didn’t bother if it was not for Jill. He needed energy to conclude his task of solving mysteries. The picture of the blood next to the Van Gogh Sunflower come into his mind with a genuine candor. “The red box.” He spoke up careless of whoever could hear him. He almost fainted at the pronouncing of these magnetic words. A sense of dizziness culminated his thoughts in a few minutes. Right now, he wished to be invisible. A plane above reminded him of the tiny black shadow of a sparrow. He hated camouflage with all his heart seeing in it a form of escapism from a honest conduct of behaviour. The glamour that permeated the figure placated his wish of fighting with strangers. The last time he was present at a fight was in Spain with the traditional bullfight and that was enough. A plane circled in the sky as if they were spying on him. Araon hid himself behind an ice cream and bought the daily newspaper and the enigma was sorted out. The secret service were looking for a spy of the URSS and the best solution was to undertake a clear vision of the facts from a plane above in the sky. Araon was at peace with his own sense of honesty. With a deep breath he calmed himself down. He slowly turned over the pages of the newspaper. What attracted his attention most was the news of a foundation of a charity for the help of the blind. It was the gift of a billionaire who, in that way, wanted to take refuge from a calumny wrongly attributed to him. But Araon found the article tedious and mundane with the consequences he threw it into the dustbin and he dissolved into tears. The day was not suitable to sort out enigma and Araon considered to invite Jill to have an ice cream at a bistro. They would be a natural couple, heart in heart and chatting lovingly in a hidden place. It could be a hazard to the eyes of the foreign to the situation. Thinking of Jill, his heart beat quickly and steadily. He was mad about his wife. The only idea of hiding from her something delicate increased his worrisome sense of guilt. Also, Albert and Sylvanus had read his mind with atrocity. They had jokingly nicknamed him man cub. He remembered the day when they had all together thrown eggs at a TV celebrity for having expressed words of hatred towards the kitten abandoned in the streets of Amsterdam. The three friends had in common much more than they could imagine. But now he was there tormented by the image of fresh blood on the floor of Van Gogh Museum. The anonymity of the murdered one never stopped the fountain of thoughts of Araon. Of course the blood must belong to a man, not to an animal. Simply he had no other clues for the moment. he was wonderfully falling into a journey of a devastated mind. There was a certain similarity with the farmers who used to bring the crop. Nice thought but now he was sweetened by the notes of a lovely song which came from the window of a house nearby. He used some clumsy dance movement to prevent the music would turning its gaiety into a shade of horror. Whistles and sound brought joy to a scorned man in an absolute peaceful way. Step by step he reached the other side of the road where some pigeons amused him with their search for crumbs. Araon instinctively put his hands into the pocket of his trousers to get his wallet and he found out some money was missing. He was sure he had made the right calculus of the money, notes and coins included. “Never mind. Let’s go and purchase a cake for Jill,” he uttered anxious and sensitive. To bring sugar-free cakes to Jill was Araon’s way to seek forgiveness. Jill, still at home tried not to think why Araon was not there yet and she soothed and pampered herself to appear as glamorous and groomed as ever. Her husband was not homesick yet, but she pledged not to lose her temper when seeing him finally at home. She was amazed to have found the shirt of a soccer player in her armchair. It was a number ten. For who knew what reason, Araon had never spoken about it. She knew Araon was not a serious soccer fan. Jill tried to keep calm and waited for her husband’s arrival, eating some crisps. The bell rung but it was not Araon. It was the joke of some teens playing outside. But Araon didn’t take long to arrive. And when he arrived there was a surprise. There was a mess all around. Cream, shampoo and the toilet paper on the floor. socks scattered all around the bedroom, pieces of pizza in the kitchen sink. But Jill was not there. Not even the shadow. It was a shock for Araon to have found the flat so messy. But the ugliest surprise was the piece of paper that Araon found in the dresser next to the bedroom. Jill’s handwriting was very clear and self-explanatory. Araon put on his glasses and started to read: Dear Araon, I have thought it over, I have decided against seeing you for a while. There is nothing wrong with you but I think we should stay apart for a while and meditate on our relationship. Where is it going? Are there mistakes we can find unfathomable? I think I have to demolish the demons of my mind. I was reading something as a truce to the overflowing of my fear when I found myself alone and forlorn. I was missing the point, was my first consideration. To leave was not an easy choice, but it was the best thing I could do. You must know that I still love you deeply and I don’t want to lose you. I picked up my diary and started to scribble over it. I don’t want to make you bored by all the tiny passages of my writing, so I go straight to the main point. What do you have in your mind? Do you still consider me your wife and best friend? It’s so embarrassing to address to you these stupid words that must be useful for a modern couple. I don’t want to tell you where
I am now, but be patient, you will hear from me very soon. With love, Jill.