A car the size of a submarine

Mildred made a round trip to the kitchen, to fetch crisps and a beer.
Sat again on the computer chair.

“Right.
“So, I've already talked about Paul's disappearance… Nobody has seen or heard of him since September. Everybody keeps repeating he's with a woman, but I don't believe that crap. Why would a guy disappear because of a woman? Even a man, I mean, who cares about such things anymore? No, they keep repeating it to hurt me.”

She paused, made a funny little grimace.

“I'm sure of it. And, of course, the police asked me a few questions as well. About Paul, I mean.
“As if I knew…”

Mildred paused, sipped some beer.

“They stopped looking for him, they said that there was no sign of foul play and that people have a right to disappear. But why disappear like that? Not even a word to Patrick and Otto! After all they are his business partners, right? Or to me! Why…”

She shed a tear, dried it quickly.
She finished the beer, ran to the fridge, came back with more bottles, sea salted crisps, and digestive biscuits.

“I'm stupid, nothing happened with… Nothing, really. My obsession.”

She paused, looked at herself, pondering.

“I thought I saw something… little signs… I thought something was happening, but then it was probably just me…
“Ok, let's get to the point.”

She put on a brave face.

“This evening, about one hour ago, Finley trash boy… Finley is that trash journalist Patrick and Otto have hired to fill in for Paul… This needs some editing. Whatever.
“He called me, and told me he had found something in Paul's desk, and wanted me to see it.

“Ok, it's a ten minutes' walk from home to the office, and Finley trashboy knows I'm a night owl. I was stupid enough to tell him.
“But it's a damp cold night and fog is thick as peasoup and I'm not his dog, so I was about to tell him 'Get lost', when he says: 'I'd like you to see it before I hand the thing to the police.'

“I ask: 'Can't you be more specific' and he becomes mysterious.
“So, I thought, either it's a prank, or it's pretty serious.

“Oh, yeah… he told me he was with a lady. I suppose he didn't want me to believe he had something awful in mind. Poor thing, if he touched me, I would throw up straight to his pretty face. You know, projectile green vomit, like in a horror movie. “Yuuuuuk.”

She guffawed.

“Yeah. But that Finley trashy trash, he's not exactly a chad, but I'm sure many girls find him likeable. Not a crazy incel, in other words, definitely not.
“Well, I went there. So I enter the office, and who was the lady? Who?”

Mildred laughed, chugged down half a bottle.

“It was Ingrid Leino, the quadzillionaire's wife. Of all people.“

She took her smartphone, searched for a picture of the lady.
She found one, taken at an event, a week before. Ingrid Leino was in a haute couture dress, with her much older husband and other old people.
Tall, thin, absolutely stunning.

Mildred sighed.

“Yeah.
“It pisses me off to say that, but she is the most beautiful human being I've ever seen in my entire life. Male or female. Onscreen or irl.
“And she seems intelligent too, and kind, and… she has a nice voice. Educated, but not, like, shallow education, like any rich girl who's been at a posh school. It's like, a really educated voice. It's difficult to explain.
“And, of course, she treated me with a sort of pity, as beautiful women often do when they are in the same room with ugly and poor girls.”

She finished the crisps, crumpled up the bag.

“Well, I'm not desperately poor, but I'm certainly no quadzillionairess.
“Not even a thousand-nairess, most of the time.”

She threw the crumpled ball in the garbage bin.

“I hate the world.”

She opened another bag of crisps.

“Why was I born with a rat's face, while she is perfect? Why? It's so unfair. And being beautiful gives you such confidence. You see adoring people everywhere, going out of their ways to please you.
“If only I could be that beautiful, for one day… Like in fairytales, right? That's why they were invented.”

Mildred laughed. She was getting drunk.
She sniffed.

“Finley trashboy is head over heels about her. So obvious.
“Actually, if I were a lesbian… Definitely.
“But I doubt she fancies women. Well, one never knows. In any case, if she does, she sees only beautiful women. Like things together, right?“

She laughed.

“Life is crap.
“Ok, so, that Leino mermaid says she's there because she wants to try again and look for Alison, talking with local people, blabla. The Seagull, of course, being the last community newspaper in the area, it makes sense to reach out to its mighty editor-in-chief, trashy Finley boy. Finley isn't born here, but he's been living in the borough for quite a few years now.

“She said Alison is the daughter of one of her mother's housemaids, and she wants to help the lady find her daughter.
“I know Alison's mother is a housemaid, but I didn't know she worked for that crowd. Maybe Alison told me, I don't know.
“Who knows why she was there, after all. Sounds fishy, if you ask me. A mermaid who sounds fishy, haha.”

She laughed, and stuffed her face with crisps for a while.

“I saw a meat mountain in the street, waiting by a gray car the size of a submarine. “Her car, obviously, with assorted driver-bodyguard.
“She likes them gigantic, and looking like brutes.”

She chuckled.

“Quite sexy, actually.
“If that's her taste in males, poor Finley trash boy doesn't stand a chance.”

She snorted, crunched a few more crisps.

“Ok, so.
“They showed me the mysterious thing they had found, and it was this notebook. I recognized it at once, and almost fainted. Alison has been keeping a diary since junior school, like me. Only she kept writing by hand, in notebooks. And she always bought the same notebook: a black one with a dragon on the cover. I've already said this… I'll edit later.

“I opened it, and read: The Dark Princess' Diary, and the date.
“The Dark Princess. Poor girl, fat'n ugly, and she fancies herself a princess, and a dark one, at that, whatever that may mean.

“And I said: 'It's mine'. Yeah.
“I don't know why I said that, actually.

“They swore they had not read a single word of it. And they gave it to me. I'm not sure why.
“Very stupid of them, if you ask me. It didn't occur them that I might be lying? Two cretins, both of them. Sorry, mermaid, but you are a cretin too, after all.”

She paused, thought about it.

“On the other hand: who knew that Alison and Paul had met? She was not important. And Alison never told her parents she kept a diary. Actually, I was the only one who knew it. I think.
“And I told Finley that I kept a diary, so maybe his first thought was that it was my diary.

“Ok, who cares. Let's move on.”