In the Darkness (22 page)

Eva accelerated and turned tightly into the roundabout. She bowled past the light-bulb factory, and noticed the newspaper stand outside the bakery door, ‘Found suffocated’ it said, and the same at the Esso service station. Maja was all over town and Elmer would certainly have read it too, if he read newspapers, and surely everyone did. She slackened speed, she was in Oscarsgate now, glided past the brewery, went on to the swimming baths and parked round the back. She remained seated in the car for a few moments. The brewery car park was large and there were lots of white cars. She locked up and walked slowly past the swimming baths, smelling the chlorine that wafted out, and continued to the bosses’ car park, right by the brewery’s main entrance. Elmer definitely wasn’t one of the bosses, he wasn’t dressed like a boss, and he’d also moaned about his wages. She ambled slowly on, now she had the car park on her left. It was protected by a barrier. A card machine blinked red and a large sign on the right declared that the car park was kept under
surveillance
, but not what form it took. She couldn’t see cameras anywhere. She squeezed past the barrier and turned to the left, it was a case of searching systematically, there were a great many cars. Her heart thumped harder, she pushed her hands into her coat pockets and attempted to stroll unhurriedly, occasionally raising her face to the sun. She formed her mouth into a small smile and hoped it looked trustworthy. Here was a Honda Civic, white, and almost unnaturally shiny, as if it had come straight from the showroom. She went on down the line, needing to look at all of them, including the number plates, but at the same time appearing not to be checking if someone was watching her. Could a man kill in the evening and then go to work the next day? Was it possible? A BMW, rather worn and dirty with a lot of rubbish on the dashboard. A Beetle, which was not actually white, but more a dirty yellow. She went on to the second row, felt a tiny bit of warmth from the sun even though it was October now, a wistful little caress on her cheek. Suddenly, Maja was irretrievably dead. It was unbelievable. She wasn’t really sure if it had sunk in. She’d popped up from nowhere, and just as suddenly she’d gone. She’d seemed to flit by like some strange dream. A white Mercedes, an old Audi, she sauntered on her long legs with her coat open, until all at once a man was blocking her way. A navy blue boiler suit with lots of luminous strips on it. Securitas.

‘You got an entry card?’

Eva frowned. He was only a spotty boy, but large. ‘What?’

‘This is a private car park. Looking for something?’

‘Yes, a car. I’m not touching anything.’

‘You’ll have to leave, this is for employees only.’ He had spiky yellow hair and loads of self-confidence.

‘It’s only to check something. Just going round to take a look. It’s important to me,’ she added.

‘No way! Come on, I’ll see you out.’ He came towards her, his arm authoritative.

‘You can follow me if you like, I only want to look at the cars. I’m looking for a guy I need to talk to, it’s important. Please. I’ve got a car and a stereo of my own.’

He hesitated. ‘OK then, but be quick. My job is getting unauthorised persons off the car park, so that’s why.’

She continued along the lines of cars hearing his steps behind her.

‘What kind of car is it?’ he fretted.

She didn’t answer. Elmer mustn’t know someone was looking for him. This puppy in his blue romper suit would certainly tell.

‘I know lots of the blokes who work here,’ he added.

A Toyota Tercel, an old Volvo, a Nissan Sunny. The security man coughed.

‘Is he on production? On the taps?’

‘I don’t know him,’ she said curtly. ‘Only the car.’

‘This is some big secret, eh?’

‘Correct.’

He stopped and nodded. He stood with his arms folded feeling foolish. A lone woman was trespassing in a private area and he was following her about like a poodle. What kind of security man was he? Some of his self-assurance seeped away.

‘And what d’you want with a bloke you don’t know?’ He overtook her and propped himself against the bonnet of a car. His legs were long, they were blocking her way.

‘I’m thinking of throttling him,’ she said smiling sweetly.

‘Oh yeah, right.’ He chuckled, as if he suddenly understood. His beaver nylon boiler suit sat snugly on his toned
body
. Eva stared at the number plate between his open legs. BL 744. She turned to the car opposite, which was a silver Golf, walked right up to it and peered in through the window. He followed her. ‘That one’s in the canteen, can’t remember his name. A little squirt with wavy hair. Is that him?’

She smiled patiently, straightened up and threw a quick glance at the white Opel behind him, now she could make out the full number. BL 74470. It was a Manta. She’d been right, it was just like Jostein’s old one, but this one was nicer-looking, newer and better looked after. The trim of the seats was red. She walked back, heading for the barrier, she’d seen enough. She’d found him just like that. A perfectly normal brewery worker with a murder on his conscience. And she, Eva, knew enough to put him inside for fifteen or twenty years. Inside a tiny cell. It’s unbelievable, she thought. Yesterday he killed Maja. Today he’s at work as if nothing had happened. So he’s clever. A cold fish. Perhaps he was talking about the murder over a sandwich in the canteen. She could imagine him smacking his lips and chewing with bits of mayonnaise on his upper lip. Terrible wasn’t it, boys, about that woman – must have been an excitable customer. Then he’d wash it down with some Coke, pick out the lemon and bits of parsley before taking another bite. I’ll bet he’s away over the Swedish border already.

Maybe several of them had visited Maja, she thought suddenly. And perhaps he felt the way she did, that he could hardly believe it had happened and pushed it away like a nasty dream.

‘I remember his name now!’ the security man yelled after her. ‘The one with the Golf. His name’s Bendiksen. From Finnmark!’

Eva waved without turning and walked on. Then she halted again. ‘Do they work shifts?’

‘Seven to three to eleven to seven.’

She nodded again, glanced at her watch and walked out of the car park, back past the swimming baths and got into her own car. Her heart was beating fast now, she had a huge secret and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. But she started the car and drove homewards. Three o’clock was a long way off. Then she could wait and follow him. Find out where he lived. If he had a wife and children. A terrific urge surfaced within her, he had to know that someone was on to him! No more than that. She couldn’t bear the thought that he felt safe, that he’d got up and gone to work as usual, after killing Maja for no reason at all. She couldn’t understand why he’d done it, where all the fury had come from. As if the knife on the side of the bed was the greatest insult he’d ever suffered. But murderers aren’t like other people, she mused, and swung out to pass a cyclist who was weaving about on her right. They must lack something. Or perhaps he’d quite simply been terrified by the sight of the knife. Had he really believed that Maja would stab him? She wondered for a moment if some crafty lawyer could save him by asserting that he’d acted in self-defence. In that case I’d have to come forward, Eva thought, but then dismissed the idea. To give evidence as a friend of the prostitute, no, she couldn’t do it. I’m not a coward, she thought, not really. But I have to think of Emma. She repeated it to herself again and again. But a great restlessness had taken charge of her body, a thousand little ants crawling through her veins. At the thought that nobody knew anything. That such a thing could happen to her friend, Maja – the very best of friends – and end up as just a tiny paragraph in the newspaper.

Chapter 23

THE PHONE RANG
as she was closing the front door.

She jumped. The line had been restored. For a moment she hesitated, made a rapid decision and lifted the receiver.

‘Eva my dear! Where on earth have you been? I’ve been ringing for days!’

‘My phone’s been cut off. But I’ve got it back now, I was just a bit late with a payment.’

‘I’ve told you you’re to let me know if you need anything,’ her father growled.

‘Not having a phone for a couple of days won’t kill me,’ she said easily, ‘and you’re not exactly flush with money yourself.’

‘It’s better for me to starve than you. Fetch Emma to the phone, I want to hear her unsullied little voice.’

‘She’s with Jostein for a few days, it’s the autumn break. So tell me, do I sound sullied, is that it?’

‘Your voice has a tainted undertone now and then. I always have the feeling you only tell me a fraction of what’s going on.’

‘Yes, that’s right. It’s called being considerate. You’re not a spring chicken any more, you know.’

‘I think you should come over soon so that we can tease
each
other properly, over a glass of wine. I can’t do good ripostes on the phone.’ He was snuffling a bit as if he had a cold.

‘I’ll be along one of these days. You could always ring Jostein and get Emma there. Besides, she isn’t entirely unsullied, I think she takes after you basically.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Will he be embarrassed if I phone?’

No, don’t be silly. He’s really fond of you. He’s always frightened you’re angry that he walked out, so if you phone he’ll be pleased.’

‘I’m extremely angry! You didn’t think otherwise, surely?’

‘Don’t say that to him.’

‘I’ll never understand why you’re so loyal to a man who ran off like that.’

‘I’ll tell you sometime, over a glass of wine.’

‘A father should know everything about his only child,’ he scolded crossly. ‘The life you lead is just one almighty secret.’

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘It certainly is, Dad. But you know, important truths will out. When the time is ripe.’

‘The time’s almost up,’ he answered. ‘I’m old.’

‘That’s what you always say when you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Get some wine, and I’ll come over. I’ll ring and tell you when. You are wearing your slippers, aren’t you?’

‘That’s for me to know, and you to wonder. When you start dressing like a woman, I’ll start dressing like an old man.’

‘That’s a deal, Dad.’

They said nothing for a while, but she could hear his breathing. Eva felt he was so close that she could almost
sense
his warm breath coming down the phone line and caressing her cheek. Her father was a sturdy root from which Eva derived all her strength. Somewhere at the back of her mind she would occasionally register that he would die soon and that all the intimacy she knew in life would be torn from her, stripped away, as if someone were tearing the hide and hair from her body.

Her thoughts made her feel icy.

‘You’re not thinking pleasant thoughts, Eva.’

‘I’ll come soon. I don’t think life’s much fun really.’

‘Then we can console one another.’

She put down the phone. It was so quiet after that, she went to the window and her thoughts ran wild even though she tried to control them. What way did we go, she thought, to get to the cabin that time, didn’t we go through Kongsberg first? It was so long ago. More than twenty-five years. Maja’s father had driven them in the van. And they’d got drunk, the heather round the hut had been dappled with little blotches of stew and fruit cocktail, and some of their clothes had to be left outside at night. Through Kongsberg, she thought, and across the bridge. Up towards Sigdal, wasn’t that the way? A red cabin with green window frames. Tiny, standing almost totally by itself. But it was a long way. Two hundred, maybe three hundred kilometres. Nearly two million. How much room did a sum like that take up, she thought, if it was in various denominations it would hardly fit into a shoebox. And where in a small cabin could one hide such a sum? In the cellar? Up the chimney? Or maybe down that outside toilet. They’d had to throw in handfuls of earth and bark, each time they’d used it. Or was it hidden in empty food tins in the fridge? Maja was ingenious. It wouldn’t be easy if anyone decided to search for it, she thought. But
who
would search for it? Nobody knew about it, and so it would lie there for ever and crumble to dust, or had she told anyone else? If that were the case, perhaps others were thinking along the same lines as she was now, thinking about the two million and dreaming.

She went back to the studio and began scraping at the black canvas again. October wasn’t exactly high season for mountain cabins at that sort of altitude, perhaps there wasn’t a soul up there, nobody to see her. If she parked a little way off and walked the final bit – if she could even remember the way. Turn left at a yellow shop, she recalled, then on, up and up, almost to the treeline. Millions of sheep. The tourist hostel and the large lake, she could park there, down by the water. She kept scraping at the canvas. Two million. Her own gallery. Just paint and paint and never worry about money, not for years. Take good care of her father and of Emma. Just reach into a bowl and pull the money out whenever she needed it. Or a safe-deposit box. Why on earth hadn’t Maja put the money in a safe-deposit box? Perhaps because a safe-deposit box had to be registered and could be traced. The money wasn’t legitimate. Eva scratched harder. If she wanted to get hold of the money she’d have to break into the cabin, and she couldn’t imagine herself daring to do that. Breaking open the door with a crowbar or smashing a pane of glass would certainly be audible a long way off. But if there wasn’t anyone up there … She could go in the evening and arrive during the night. Although it would be hard to search in the dark. A torch maybe. She threw away the piece of sandpaper and walked slowly down the stairs to the cellar. A drawer in the workbench contained a torch that Jostein had left. It gave a miserably poor light. She put her hand into the paint pot where
she
’d hidden Maja’s pocket money and pulled out a bundle of notes, mounted the stairs and put on her coat. She pushed away the small stabbings of her conscience, and the slight, almost inaudible note of caution sounding from her common sense. First, she’d pay all her bills and then there were a couple of things she needed as well. It was now midday. In three hours Elmer would have finished his shift, and would walk to his car. Eva put on her sunglasses. She stared at herself in the mirror: dark hair, dark glasses and coat. She was unrecognisable.