The Rottweiler
Jeremy is a serial killer. His frat victim had a mark on her neck resembling a dog bite so the journalists called him the rottweiler. Tonight, he's walking throught the streets of London.
Jeremy got up and walked round the garden. ... the square was quiet. A car drove down one side, another down Sussex Street. He began to walk back by a circuitous route that took him into Bryanston Square and up Seymour Place. He noticed a cellophane wrapped bouquet of daffodils lying on the road. Of course! Yesterday was the first anniversary of her death. Minute by minute, it was growing colder and colder. The sky was clear and the moon out. He walked quickly up Seymour Place, turned left and took the old Marybole Road. A girl came out of Harcourt Place, not looking nervous but walking fast towards the Edgware Road. He watched her progress, smiled. It must be odd, strange, awkward, to be a woman and afraid to be out when daylight was gone. But he couldn't imagine being a woman. He could more easily picture himself as a fine animal, a noble dog or a beast of prey. Or even a Rottweiler ?
Ruth Rendell, The Rottweiler 2004
Jeremy is a serial killer. His frat victim had a mark on her neck resembling a dog bite so the journalists called him the rottweiler. Tonight, he's walking throught the streets of London.
Jeremy got up and walked round the garden. ... the square was quiet. A car drove down one side, another down Sussex Street. He began to walk back by a circuitous route that took him into Bryanston Square and up Seymour Place. He noticed a cellophane wrapped bouquet of daffodils lying on the road. Of course! Yesterday was the first anniversary of her death. Minute by minute, it was growing colder and colder. The sky was clear and the moon out. He walked quickly up Seymour Place, turned left and took the old Marybole Road. A girl came out of Harcourt Place, not looking nervous but walking fast towards the Edgware Road. He watched her progress, smiled. It must be odd, strange, awkward, to be a woman and afraid to be out when daylight was gone. But he couldn't imagine being a woman. He could more easily picture himself as a fine animal, a noble dog or a beast of prey. Or even a Rottweiler ?
Ruth Rendell, The Rottweiler 2004
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Je peux paraître pas très cool, mais... p'têtre bien que je ne le suis pas!