Geier Curtain up - sirens on

High heels at the precinct
1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-1-64268-786-6
Verlag: novum publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 254 Seiten

After being released from the hospital following a car accident, Olivia prepares to go on tour throughout England as an actress. When she first meets her fellow actresses, the complicated and tense relationship between her, the spirited Elvira and the whiny Lulu seems to be the biggest problem. But then a dead body suddenly turns up, giving Olivia intense, vivid visions. Is she connected to the dead man? When the group ends up at a mysterious estate nearby and the police put out a warrant for Olivia's arrest, an adventure full of secrets, intrigue and fateful relationships begins.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Geier, Ingrid

Leseproben

Chapter 1

This headache! I feel like I'm exhausted. I strain to think clearly. What exactly has happened? How long have I been here?

All the questions about me remained unanswered. My head is empty. I can't remember anything. I only notice the throbbing in my temples.

The calm that sets in when the nurse leaves the room is a real relief. She will come back and ask me questions again. What should I tell her? Using all my strength, I open my eyes. The bright neon light blinds me. I turn to the side. I shouldn't have done that, a razor-sharp pain pierces my head. My eyelids fall heavily over my eyes. I remain in this position for a long time, unable to open them again. Shock runs through all my limbs. Have I lost all power over myself? That's horrible! No, I can't do it like this, I want to open my eyes when I feel like it.

A young girl is sitting next to me. She lets her legs dangle and watches me. Her bed is higher than mine and she looks down at me. Suddenly she leans forward and smiles at me. Her legs continue to dangle happily. I envy her for that. I can't imagine ever letting my legs dangle again. I can't imagine ever being able to move again. I feel like I'm set in concrete. Lifeless, with an endless headache.

Somehow I manage to pull back the blanket. Yes, that's better. A weight falls off me.

"You had an accident. You ran in front of a car. To make matters worse, you hit your head on the asphalt," says the girl.

Your voice is good for me. It's a beautiful voice. She doesn't ask any questions. She just looks at me and keeps talking.

"You'll be fine, you were actually very lucky. You didn't break anything. Considering that the driver pushed you down with full force, it's almost a miracle that nothing more happened to you. It could have turned out differently. You'll remember everything tomorrow. You need to sleep. You're probably still in shock." She nods affirmatively.

Yes, that's how it is. I had an accident. The fact that I can't remember is due to the shock. Relieved, I close my eyes in the hope that I can continue to listen to this pleasant voice. This voice that sounds so uplifting and refreshing. I allow myself the luxury of keeping my eyes closed. When I feel like it, I will open them again. That works again. At least a little.

I have memorized the girl's face. The dark eyes and the equally dark hair that falls a little further into her face with every rocking movement. Unfortunately, closing my eyes has also silenced her voice. So I open them again. Her gaze passes me by and she swings her legs into the bed.

"So, hopefully peace will now return to this room."

I know that voice too. It is by no means encouraging. Refreshing, on the other hand, in the sense of bossy. This voice has already put my head in a dangerous state once, close to bursting.

The nurse seems to enjoy my helplessness. She covers me up with vehemence. The blanket almost seems to crush me.

"So that's how it is. The fine lady can throw the covers off the bed, but otherwise she's not able to move even a millimeter. What kind of performance are you putting on here ? You're not fooling me, even if you remain silent for days."

She looks at me sternly, holding up an infusion. She hangs it over me like a sword of Damocles. Now it would be convenient if my eyelids would drop. But nothing of the sort happens. I am on alert. The infusion bottle and even more so the nurse pose a threat that makes my blood run cold. The liquid, as clear and pure as water, certainly has it in it. They want to jog my memory. What substances are used for this? All I need is a tablet to get rid of the headache, nothing else.

"After this infusion you will sleep. Tomorrow at nine o'clock you will be questioned by our psychologist. I hope your answers don't just consist of a meaningless nod. Do you think you're the only patient here? If you expect help, you must cooperate."

I stare at her, paralyzed. It wasn't arbitrary on my part not to answer. It was just that, unfortunately, I had no answers to the questions. My voice failed me when I didn't even know my name, let alone my profession or home address. Then they rummaged in my bag and found my ID. The vigorous nod when I heard my name was now interpreted as arbitrariness. The word amnesia finally did the rest for me. The quiet whispers between the doctors and nurses about being admitted to a psychiatric ward put me off. The questions about where I was going and where I came from when I was taken down pulled the rug out from under my feet. I couldn't remember anything. The girl next to me was right, I was in shock.

The infusion hangs over me. I get more tired with every drop. What have I just been thinking about?

A laugh as bright as a bell forces me to look to the side. At first I only see dangling legs, then the laughing face of the girl. She is being kissed by a man. She half-heartedly fends him off. The displayed defensiveness makes him overconfident. He presses her firmly against him and then into the cushions. Half sitting, half lying down, he looks into her eyes.

"Get off my bed," she says with a laugh, "or do you want to be treated by the head nurse too?"

"God forbid, there's nothing wrong with me."

He straightens up and pulls the girl up with him.

"Now you've woken her up." A finger points at me.

There is no sign of the infusion. Nevertheless, I feel drained and empty and very tired. The headache has disappeared. But I still can't think clearly. It's all over the place in my head. I can't control the wild confusion. Everything is going round in circles, fast and frightening. I have to answer the question. Name, address, profession. Where did I come from? Where was I going? I feel sick. I fight it with all my might. I'm also fighting something else, but what?

"You can't sit still for a minute, can you? Your legs don't seem to accept bed rest?" The man is extremely amused. "Your nature as a born tomboy doesn't seem to be happy to stay here for the last day." He laughs boomingly and is puffed in the side.

"Behave yourself and keep your voice down. Make sure she's asleep. She was knocked down by a car. She was unconscious when she was brought in. She hit her head on the asphalt. The skull CD was clear. She didn't sustain any injuries." She clears her throat and continues speaking very quietly.

I try hard to find out more about myself. To no avail, her whispers echo in my head without me understanding a single word.

"This is the best clinic far and wide, they will be able to help her. She's in good hands," says the man.

I am in good hands, these words feel like a balm. The nausea disappears. There you go, I'm already feeling better. Am I a tomboy too? Of course I am. I slide one leg out from under the crumpled blanket and let it dangle next to the bed. What a good feeling. Now I can go back to sleep with a clear conscience, although I'm more interested in the girl's words. I would like to know why she suddenly spoke so quietly, after all, it's about me. Basically, she is no longer a girl, she is a young, pretty woman with a lot of spirit. She exudes a strange fascination. The man called her a tomboy. That sounds good. They seem to be very much in love. They continue to talk quietly and hold hands.

It's not proper to listen to their mumbling. What these lovers have to say to each other is none of my business. They no longer talk about me. Relieved, I turn away. Relieved also because I no longer have to concentrate. The inability to understand their words has created a real pressure in my head.

A laugh, more restrained this time, makes me look to the side again. I squint curiously at the bed, expecting to see two swinging legs. I straighten up. The bed is freshly made up. Two nurses are working on it. The mattress has taken on a U-shape. The sheets are too tight. The very young nurses are having fun with it. They let their weight fall on it to bring the unruly thing back into shape.

"Where is the young woman?"

"Dismissed." They both straighten up and stare at me.

"Dismissed? When?"

"This morning. You were still asleep. You slept for a very long time. Are you feeling better today? Are you in pain?"

"No, I'm not in any pain."

The disappointment of no longer seeing the young woman is greater than the pounding in my head.

"I'll bring you your breakfast now, because you have an appointment with Dr. Konsik at eleven o'clock. The nine o'clock appointment was taken up by another patient. You couldn't be woken up."

"Yes, because they hooked me up to some kind of drip, what kind of substances were in the bottle? I had a funny feeling right from the start."

"That was a physiological saline solution. Most of our patients are prescribed this."

"Standard therapy, eh?" I also don't know why I'm suddenly so aggressive.

"But you don't sleep so well on a saline solution that you can't wake up, as they say."

The student nurse, as I read from her name tag, lets the mattress resume its U-shape. She looks to the door for help. She needs help from her colleague now, but she's just fetching my breakfast.

"A sedative and a painkiller were also added to the saline solution."

"Yes, there was probably a lot more mixed in. It's not for nothing that the nurse waved the bottle over me threateningly."

"No, that wasn't a threat, the bottle has to be hung this high. How else is the liquid supposed to get into her vein?"

I immediately regret my words. The pressure...