In the Darkness Page 7

‘It is possible to live without all that,’ she said flatly.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ he said. ‘I’ve been a widower for fourteen years!’

  ‘And don’t try to tell me it’s been fourteen years since you were last in action!’ she protested, ‘I know you.’

  He chortled and sipped his wine. ‘But it’s not healthy, you know.’

  ‘I can’t just pick someone off the street,’ she said, sinking her teeth into a fried chicken leg.

  ‘Of course you can. You just invite him to dinner. Most men would say yes, I’m sure of that. You’re a nice-looking girl, Eva. A bit thin, but pretty. You’re like your mother.’

  ‘No, I’m like you.’

  ‘Have you sold any pictures? Are you working hard?’

  ‘The answer is no. And yes.’

  ‘You must let me know if you need money.’

  ‘I don’t need any. What I mean is, we’ve got good at managing without much.’

  ‘Before, we never used to have the money to go to McDonald’s,’ Emma put in loudly, ‘but we have now!’

  Eva felt herself reddening. It was irritating, her father knew her only too well and was quick on the uptake.

  ‘Are you keeping secrets from me?’

  ‘I’m nearly forty, of course I’m keeping secrets from you.’

  ‘Well, all right then, I won’t say any more now. But heaven help you if there’s anything I can give you and you don’t ask for it. I’ll get grumpy, you’ve been warned.’

  ‘I know you will,’ she smiled.

  They finished the meal in silence. Then she emptied the bottle into her father’s glass and cleared the table. She worked slowly. She was thinking that this might be the last time she would potter about in her father’s house. From now on she’d always think like that.

  ‘Lie down on the sofa. I’ll make us some coffee.’

  ‘I’ve got some liqueur,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find it. Go and lie down now, I’ll wash up and read to Emma in the meantime. Then we’ll have another bottle of wine later.’

  He stood up with difficulty, and she put a steadying hand under his arm. Emma decided she’d sing to him, to send him off to sleep more quickly, and he was all for it. Eva went back into the kitchen, stuffed some money into the jam jar that held his savings, and filled the sink with water. Soon Emma’s voice rang through the house. She sang ‘Morningtown Ride’, until Eva was left bending over the washing-up, her tears of mirth and misery dripping into the suds.

  In the evening she spread a rug over him and propped him up on a couple of pillows. They’d switched off most of the lights and sat in the semi-darkness. Emma’s bedroom door was open, they could hear her snoring softly.

  ‘D’you miss Mum?’ she asked, stroking his hand.

  ‘Every hour of the day.’

  ‘I think she’s here now.’

  ‘Of course she is, in some way or other. But I don’t know just how, I can’t work it out.’ His hand fumbled over the table towards his cigarettes, and she lit one for him. ‘Why was she unhappy, d’you think?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do you believe in God?’ she continued.

  ‘Don’t be silly!’

  They fell silent again for a long while. He drank the red wine steadily, and she knew he’d fall asleep on the sofa and wake up with a backache, as he always did.

  ‘When I’m grown up I’m going to marry you,’ she said wearily. She closed her eyes and knew that she would drop off too, sitting with her head on the back of the sofa. She couldn’t be bothered to fight it. While she was here in her father’s living room, she felt safe. As she had when she’d been little and he could protect her. He couldn’t protect her any more, but it was a good feeling all the same.

  Chapter 10

  SEJER AWOKE WITH a stiff neck. As usual he’d fallen asleep in his armchair after dinner and, added to this, his feet were soaking. The dog had slobbered on them. He headed for the shower. Slowly he undressed without looking in the mirror; once under the spray he stretched himself gingerly and grimaced each time he touched the wall tiles. They were vinyl, a kind of imitation marble. They’d yellowed with the years. When he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine anything more ugly to put on a bathroom wall. Elise had nagged him for ages, begged him to put up something different, she thought they were hideous too. Yes, yes, he’d said, I’m working on it. We’ll do it in the spring, Elise. And so the years had passed. And later, when she was lying there hairless, ill and as emaciated as an old, old woman, and he, in his despair, wanted to tackle the bloody bathroom, she had shaken her head. She’d rather he sat by her bedside. You’ll have plenty of time for the bathroom later, Konrad, she’d said feebly.

  A huge sorrow overwhelmed him, and he had to blink hard to stop it gaining the upper hand. He hadn’t time for that, not now at any rate. When he’d dried and dressed himself he went into the living room and phoned his daughter, Ingrid, she was the only child they’d had. They talked about this and that for a long while, and before he rang off he said goodnight to Matteus. After this he felt better. Before going out, he stopped in front of the photograph of Elise which hung above the sofa, she smiled at him, a brilliant smile with perfect teeth and without a care in the world. Not then. He’d always liked this picture. But just recently it had begun to irritate him, he wanted a different expression now, perhaps a portrait in which she was looking serious, something that more closely matched his own mood. Like the one Ingrid had hanging above her piano. Perhaps they could do a swap. He thought about it vaguely as he let Kollberg jump into the back seat and drove in the direction of Frydenlund. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to talk about when he got there, but as usual he relied on his talent for improvisation, which was considerable. People usually felt duty-bound to fill in the gaps that cropped up during a conversation, they always thought silences were painful. It was this kind of febrile talk he encouraged, because occasionally they would blurt out things he found useful. And Jostein Magnus didn’t know he was coming. He couldn’t confer with his ex-wife beforehand. He could, of course, refuse to open his mouth at all, but they never thought of that. The notion made him smile.

  Magnus had let Eva keep their old detached home at Engelstad and had moved into a flat in Frydenlund. These were far from the ugliest blocks of flats he’d ever seen, they were certainly nicer than the one he lived in himself. Surrounded by a large, park-like area, the five-storey blocks stood in a semicircle, like inverted dominoes, white, with black spots. If an outer one fell, the whole row would come crashing down. The occupants were a creative lot. There was a profusion of beds and bushes along the walls and in front of the entrances, and they would soon be flowering. The outside was tidy, the asphalt up to the doors had been hosed clear of all gravel and dust. The door to each flat was tastefully decorated with a pretty nameplate or dried flowers.

  It was his partner who answered. He studied her with curiosity, trying to form an opinion about this woman who had supplanted Eva Magnus. She was a buxom, feminine type with a figure that burgeoned out everywhere; Sejer hardly knew where to look. Eva Marie, with all her lean, dark earnestness, wouldn’t have stood a chance against this curly cherub.

  ‘Sejer,’ he said mildly, ‘police.’

  She flung open the door immediately. Because he was smiling as broadly as he could she didn’t ask if anything was wrong, the way people often did if he wore a different expression, the serious mask, as he did sometimes. But she had a questioning look. ‘I’ve only come to have a chat,’ he went on, ‘with Mr Magnus.’

  ‘Oh yes! He’s inside.’

  He followed her in. A red-haired giant got up from the sofa. On the table in front of him, on top of a newspaper, lay a tube of glue and a dinosaur made of wood. It had lost one of its legs.

  They shook hands, the giant hadn’t learnt to control his strength, but anyway, he probably considered it unnecessary to hold back with Sejer. Even so, the policeman was slight by comparison and his ha
nd got some rough treatment.

  ‘Please sit down,’ he said. ‘Have we got anything to drink, Sofie?’

  ‘This is just an informal visit,’ he commenced, ‘I’m just being inquisitive.’ He settled comfortably in his seat and continued. ‘I’ve come simply and solely because you were married to Eva Magnus and must, I’m sure, recall the murder of Maja Durban.’

  Magnus nodded. ‘Yes, I remember that of course. It was a grisly business. Haven’t you caught anyone yet? It’s a long time ago. Well, I didn’t keep up with it in the papers, and Eva never spoke about it any more, you see – but I thought this was about something else, I’d almost forgotten that stuff about Durban. But you ask away. If I know the answer, I’ll tell you.’ He opened his arms wide. A sympathetic man, warm and generous.

  ‘What did you think I came about?’ Sejer asked enquiringly.

  ‘Er – could we talk about that later?’

  ‘OK.’

  He was handed a glass of fizzy orange and expressed his thanks.

  ‘Did you know Maja Durban?’

  ‘No, not at all. But I’d heard about her. Eva and Maja went their separate ways when they were girls. But they’d obviously been pretty close friends while it lasted. You know what girls are, it’s like life and death to them. She read about Maja’s killing quite by chance in the newspaper. They hadn’t seen each other since ’69. Or maybe it was ’70?’

  ‘Exactly. Apart from the day she was killed, that is.’

  ‘The day before she was killed.’

  ‘That was when they met each other in town. The following day she visited Durban in her flat.’

  Magnus glanced up.

  ‘Didn’t you know that?’

  ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘She – well, fine. I suppose I wasn’t meant to know it.’

  Sejer was slightly taken aback. ‘Do you happen to know the name Egil Einarsson?’ He drank his orange and felt easy and relaxed, this was a house of innocence after all and that was quite liberating.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Unless that’s the name of the man who was found floating in the river here some weeks ago.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Ah? Ah, I see. Yes, I’ve heard the whole story.’

  He pulled out a mahogany-coloured pipe from his shirt pocket and searched for matches on the table.

  The buxom Sofie had been bustling about, now she stood with a bag of peanuts in one hand while she rooted in a cupboard for something to put them in. Sejer couldn’t abide peanuts.

  ‘But I haven’t a clue who he was. There was a picture in the paper’ – he struck a match, puffed hard a couple of times and exhaled – ‘but even though we live in a small town, I didn’t know him. Nor did Eva.’

  ‘Eva?’

  ‘She saw him close up, in a manner of speaking. Even though he wasn’t particularly recognisable just then, well, I thought that was why you’d come. Because she found the corpse, she and Emma. It was rather scary, but we’ve talked it over. My daughter and I,’ he added. ‘She’s here every other weekend. I believe she’s finally forgotten it now. But you never know with youngsters. Sometimes they hold things in out of consideration for us grown-ups.’

  He’d got his pipe alight at last. Sejer stared into his effervescing drink and for once was at a loss for words.

  ‘Your ex-wife – found Einarsson’s body?’

  ‘Yes. I thought you knew that. After all, it was she who rang and notified you. Isn’t that why you’re here?’ he said in surprise.

  ‘No,’ said Sejer. ‘It was an elderly lady who phoned us. Her name was Markestad, I think. Erna Markestad.’

  ‘Oh? Then there were probably several people who phoned, in the confusion. But it was definitely Eva and Emma who found him first. They phoned the police from a phone box, Emma told me the whole story. They were out walking, on the path by the river. They often go there, Emma loves it.’

  ‘Emma told you about it – but did Eva?’

  ‘Er, no. She didn’t actually mention it straight away. But we’ve talked about it since.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit strange? Of course, I don’t know how much you talk, but …’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, ‘I suppose it was strange. That she didn’t mention it herself. We talk quite a lot. Emma told me about it in the car coming here. That they’d gone on a walk by the river, just as that poor man came drifting into the bank. So they rushed off and rang from a phone box. Afterwards they had a meal at McDonald’s. That, by the way, is Emma’s idea of paradise on earth,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Didn’t they wait for the police?’

  ‘No, seems not. But …’ There was silence for a moment round the table, and for the first time Jostein Magnus looked as if he was doubtful. ‘But it’s not right of me to sit here giving things away about Eva. And talking about what she says and doesn’t say. She’ll certainly have her reasons. Perhaps you had several phone calls, and only one was recorded. Or something.’

  Sejer nodded. He’d managed to think things through a bit now, and his face had resumed its normal expression. ‘Yes, he was drifting in the middle of town. There must have been several people who saw him. And it can be pretty hectic at the station now and again, especially just before the weekend. I must admit it can become a bit confused.’

  He lied as plausibly as he could and wondered about the strange coincidence. Or was it a coincidence?

  He carried on a polite conversation with Magnus for as long as he thought necessary. He took small sips of his drink, but didn’t touch the peanuts.

  ‘So now you’ve got two unsolved murders?’ He squeezed out a drop of glue, and stood by with a knee-joint of thin plywood.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Sometimes it happens that no one has seen or heard a thing. Or they don’t think it’s important. People are either so keen on publicity that they bombard us with every kind of suspicious circumstance, or they’re so frightened of making a fool of themselves that they decide to keep quiet. The serious informants in between are really quite few. Unfortunately.’

  ‘This is an Anatosaurus,’ he said suddenly and with a smile, lifting the dinosaur. ‘Twelve metres long. Two thousand teeth, and a brain the size of an orange. It could swim, too. What a thing to meet in the forest!’

  Sejer smiled.

  ‘You know,’ Magnus continued, ‘these prehistoric monsters have invaded our society to such an extent, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them suddenly bit off our chimney.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I’ve got a grandson of four.’

  ‘Well,’ Magnus concluded, ‘I imagine Eva has given all the help she could. They were close friends after all. They would have killed for each other.’

  Maybe they would, Sejer thought. Maybe they just would.

  By the time he got into his car and Kollberg had finished his extravagant greeting – as if he’d been to the South Pole and back since last they’d met – he knew that Magnus would have already dialled his ex-wife. This was a nuisance, he thought. He would rather arrive unexpectedly. Even so, she wouldn’t have much time, it would take him fifteen minutes to drive from Frydenlund to Engelstad. He ought really to have checked with the desk sergeant first, to see if she actually had phoned but for some reason it hadn’t been logged. But he didn’t think such an error could have occurred. Every police officer worth his salt knew that it wasn’t uncommon for the culprit themselves to telephone, so they always asked for a name and address. If it was withheld, the conversation was entered into the duty register as anonymous, with the date, time and sex. He drove on relentlessly and didn’t even momentarily succumb to the temptation to ease down a bit. Perhaps even now he could reach her in the middle of her conversation with Jostein Magnus, while she was still floundering, trying to work out a serviceable explanation. After all, he thought, who finds a corpse in the river, shrugs their shoulders and goes to McDonald’s for a meal?

  For interest’s sake, he picked up his mobile and dialled the number of the household he’d just left. He got th
e engaged tone.

  As he turned into the street he saw the darkened house and the empty drive. The car wasn’t there. He sat at the wheel for a while swallowing his disappointment. Well, he registered with relief, the curtains were still up, so she hadn’t moved at any rate. He put the car in gear and drove out on to the main road again, glanced at the time and decided on a lightning trip to the cemetery. He often liked to stroll there, see how the patches of snow were shrinking, and begin to plan what he would plant in the spring. Maybe alpine primulas, he thought, they’d go well with the violet crocuses which were just about to come out, if only they could get the tiniest bit of warmth.

  The church was large, ostentatious and brick red, confidently lording it over its surroundings on a hill above the town. He’d never liked it particularly, it was a bit too strutting for his taste, but there was nowhere else to bury her. The headstone was of red thulite, and the only inscription was her name, Elise. In somewhat large letters. Dates had been omitted. That would have made her one of many, he felt, and she wasn’t. By pushing gently into the earth with one finger, he caught sight of the first yellowish-green shoots, and that cheered him. He stood for a moment and peered down the slope; at least she had company. The most lonely thing in the whole world, he thought suddenly, was a churchyard with only one stone.

  ‘What do you think it’s like lying here, Kollberg? D’you think it’s cold?’

  The dog stared at him with black eyes and pricked up his ears.

  ‘There are cemeteries for dogs now, too. I used to laugh at them, but all things considered I’ve gradually changed my mind. Because now you’re all I have.’

  He stroked the dog’s great head and sighed heavily.

  He walked back to the car. On the way he passed Maja Durban’s grave, which was completely bare, apart from a bunch of dry, brown heather. It should have been removed. He bent down quickly, gathered the dried remains in his hands and scratched the ground before the headstone so that dark, damp earth was visible. He threw the heather in the compost bin near the water pump. Then he drove off again, and on a sudden impulse he headed towards the station.