Ex-soldier Birmingham-gangster bets his life on luck and illegalities, adroit wit and burning passion streaking his blood-stained fingertips as a dire quarrel commence between himself and the disturbed Dane who purloined his lover.
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MOON OVER MEN IN MARCH EQUINOX
ONE WEEK HAS GONE by since Nikolaj Brogaard stripped his best friend of his basic human rights and life, too. Since then, he had slept like a child. His wife, dubious and ever-wondering, Ines Lenz, had not. Haunted by nightmares, of the dead, and the living; sometimes when she woke to find her husband beside her in bed, she feared she still was in the nightmarish setting. Most of all the things that seemed unfair in the universe, she was most unsettles by the fact that Nikolaj behaved as if along with the life of poor Peter Karlsen, his troubles too had vanished.
On could not possible nor by any means be restful after such an event, at least not she and in her continuous state of shock, she did not leave their Frankfurt abode for one week. She did not read a paper, resign all contact with the outside world and even the growing Dobermann she had neglected to train. She even had lost interest in her fine home, for when she found it chewing up a sofa cushion, she could not find it in her to raise her voice at her dear Motley. In her eyes, he could do no wrong.
Nikolaj carried on as per usual, although the working hours were prolonged and that Ines did not mind. He spoke to her, regularly and with no attitude suggesting he had indeed made her endure a horrific situation. She could only manage mono-syllable words and retired entirely from speaking unless she was spoken to. The calmness of the manor and lack of distraction allowed her to understand just how careless the maids were in their whispering, their gossiping. It was evident that they understood something peculiar had separated the pair, and if Ines cared she would have reprimanded the girls. But she did not, and instead, she found out her old band of yarn and commenced her crocheting. It was a practice of which her mother had taught her, but of course, she found herself inaudibly crying over the half-done shawl when she was met with yet another spontaneous wave of utter and complete sadness.
The first time she picked up a newspaper – one that Nikolaj had left at the morning table – she cried again. In an article, it was printed in bold words that her husband spoke out on the 'unfortunate passing' of Peter Karlsen, otherwise known as not only the businessman's lackey but his very best companion. It was imperative that she understood how Nikolaj had articulated the matter, but as soon as she halted at the last punctuation mark, she regretted all again. In eloquent and careful words, he had passed the blame to Peter Karlsen. Expressing that the Rostock incident which had shed a poor light on himself, all could be traced back to Peter Karlsen's apparent illicit wrongdoing. In a quoted piece that Ines found herself reading over and over again, her lips moved to the words; "I am embarrassed to admit that Peter Karlsen has been operating illegally under my nose, but with the mess which he have left subsequent to his hapless death, I will do all in my power to restore the good name of Hive Vehicles." Nikolaj dismissed the death of Karlsen as an inapt suicide. It seemed he could not handle the responsibility he had claimed and the backs he had stabbed haunted him too much to live livelily. A note, on the behalf of Peter Karlsen even was mentioned, and it encouraged Ines to wonder if her husband had forged a suicide-note, taking all blame. Even as she expected nothing, she was disappointed and regrettably, she read the whole thing again to ensure her mind was playing no tricks.
