Prologue
When she saw the salmon-pink panties hanging from a bush, her first reaction was one of outrage. Didn't young people respect anything these days? Not even the dead were allowed to rest in peace.
She was lost in thought about the decline of society while her dog grubbed around in the undergrowth along the iron fence. It was when she followed the animal past the small trees along the south side of the cemetery that she saw the leg. Her indignation grew even stronger- the impudence! Oh, yes, she saw them walking the streets at night, scantily dressed and talking loudly, openly inviting the men. The heat was no excuse.
The dog took a shit in the high grass next to the fence. She turned away, pretending not to see. No people were around this early in the morning, so she needn't bother with the plastic bag.
'Come on, Jasper,' she called to the dog, pulling him toward the exercise enclosure on the eastern side of the park. 'Come on, boy, my little darling…'
She glanced behind her as she walked away from the fence. She couldn't see the leg now; it was hidden by the dense foliage.
It was going to get hot again today; she could feel it already. Her brow was beaded with sweat even though the sun was barely up. She panted her way up the hill. The dog was pulling at the leash, his tongue lolling so that it was almost touching the grass.
How on earth could you lie down to sleep in a cemetery, the resting place of the dead? Was this what feminism meant, to be allowed to behave badly and disrespectfully?
She was still upset. The steep hill just made her even more irritable.
I should get rid of the dog, she thought, and was immediately seized by guilt. To compensate for her wickedness, she bent down to unleash the dog and take it in her arms. The dog wriggled free and shot after a squirrel. The woman sighed. Her thoughtfulness obviously wasn't appreciated.
Sighing again, she dropped onto a park bench while Jasper attempted to chase down the squirrel. The dog was soon exhausted and parked himself underneath the fir tree where the little rodent was hiding. She stayed on the bench until she saw that the dog was done. As she got up, she noticed that her dress was clinging to her back. The thought of the dark stains along her spine made her feel self-conscious.
'Jasper darling, little doggy…'
She held out a plastic bag full of treats, and the short-legged bull-terrier came running straight at her. With his tongue dangling out of his mouth, he looked as if he were laughing.
'Oh, you want this, don't you, my friend…'
She gave the dog the bag's contents and put him back on the leash. It was time to go home. Jasper had had his treat. Now it was her turn- coffee and a bun.
But the dog didn't want to go home. He'd spotted the squirrel again, and fortified by the treats, he was ready for another chase. He protested loudly and fiercely, pulling at the leash.
'I don't want to stay out any longer,' she moaned. 'Come on now!'
They took a roundabout way to avoid the steep, grassy hills that faced her apartment building. She could manage uphill, but going down was hard on her knees.
She was right above the northeast corner of the cemetery when she saw the body. It lay embedded in the lush, overgrown vegetation, licentiously stretched out behind a partly collapsed gravestone. A fragment of a Star of David was next to her head. Only then did the woman begin to feel scared. The body was naked, much too still and white. The dog broke loose and rushed up to the fence, the leash dancing like an angry snake behind him.
'Jasper!'
He managed to squeeze in between two bars and continued over to the dead woman.
'Jasper, come here!'
She yelled as loudly as she dared; she didn't want to wake the people living around the park. Many slept with open windows in the heat; the inner-city stone buildings didn't cool down during the short summer nights. She rummaged frantically in the plastic bag, but she'd run out of things to give him.
The bullterrier stopped next to the body and looked at her attentively. Then he started sniffing, at first searching, then eagerly. When he got to her genitals, the woman couldn't check herself.
The dog looked up but gave no sign of obeying. Instead, he moved to the woman's head and started sniffing at the hands resting next to her face. To her horror, the dog started chewing at the fingers. She felt sick and grabbed the black iron bars. Carefully, she moved to the left, leaned down, and peered in among the gravestones. From a distance of six feet, she was staring into the woman's eyes. They were light-colored and clouded, dull and cold. She had a strange sensation of all sound around her disappearing. She was left with a buzzing tone in her ears.
I've got to get the dog away from here, she thought. I can't let anyone know what Jasper did.
She went down on her knees and reached her hand in as far as she could through the fence. Her splayed fingers were pointing straight at the dead eyes. Her fat upper arms threatened to get stuck between the bars as she reached for the hook of the leash. The dog howled when she pulled at the leather strap. He didn't want to let go of his prey; the hand was firmly wedged in his jaws. She jerked the animal toward her as hard as she could.
'You stupid, stinking dog!'
He hit the fence with a thud, giving a yelp. With trembling hands she forced the animal out through the iron bars. She was holding him as she never had before, both hands in a firm grip around the belly. She hurried down to the street, slipping on the grass on her way, painfully pulling a muscle in her groin.
Only when she had locked the door behind her in her own apartment and saw the scraps of flesh in the dog's mouth did she throw up.
Part One
July
Seventeen Years, Four Months, and Sixteen Days
