In the Darkness (32 page)

He shook his head at his own thoughts.

Eva took the last cigarette out of the packet, she looked collected, almost relieved. ‘When did you know it was me?’

He shook his head again. ‘I didn’t know. I thought possibly there might be two of you, and that you’d been paid to keep your mouth shut. I really didn’t know what you wanted with Einarsson.’ He went on staring out of the window. ‘But now I see,’ he muttered.

Her face was calm and open, he’d never seen her like this before, despite the swollen lip and the cuts to her chin, she was beautiful.

‘You didn’t think I looked like a murderer?’

‘No one looks like a murderer.’ He sat down again.

‘I didn’t plan to kill him. I took the knife with me because I was scared. No one will believe that.’

‘Well, you must give us the chance.’

‘It was in self-defence,’ she said. ‘He would have killed me. You know that.’

He made no answer. Suddenly the words sounded so strangely familiar to her ears. ‘This man who pulled you down the cellar steps, what did he look like?’

‘Dark, foreign. Rather slight, almost thin, but he spoke Norwegian.’

‘It sounds like Cordoba.’

Eva started. ‘What did you say?’

‘His name’s Cordoba, Ms Durban’s husband. Jean Lucas Cordoba. Quite a name, isn’t it?’

Eva began to laugh, with her face hidden in her hands. ‘Yes,’ she spluttered, ‘almost worth marrying just for the name, isn’t it?’ She wiped away some tears and drew on her cigarette. ‘Maja got all sorts. Policemen, too, did you know that?’

Sejer couldn’t stop himself, a reluctant smile spread across his face. ‘Well yes, we’re no different from other people. No better and no worse. I don’t want to hear any names.’

‘Can they see me through the cell door?’ she asked all at once.

‘Yes, they can.’

She sniffled and looked at her hands. She began using one fingernail to scrape the polish off the others.

She had nothing more to say. She was waiting for him now, for him to do what he had to. Then she could rest and relax and just do what she was told. That was really the way she wanted it.

*

Markus Larsgård floundered beneath the blanket on the sofa. If it was someone he knew, it would ring for a long time. Someone who knew he was old and slow, that he kept the phone in his workroom, and would have to cross the full width of the living room on his swollen legs. If it was a stranger, he’d never get to it in time.

Not many strangers phoned Markus Larsgård now. The occasional telesales person, the odd wrong number. Apart from that it was Eva. Finally he got himself into a sitting position; it was still ringing, so it was someone he knew. With a grunt he heaved himself up using the tabletop and got hold of his stick. He stumped across the floor thanking his lucky stars that someone could still be bothered to ring up and disturb him during his midday siesta. He limped along, struggled to get his stick to stand against the desk, but had to give up. It crashed to the floor. To his surprise he heard an unknown voice at the other end. A solicitor. Acting for Eva Marie, he said. Could he come to the station. She was in custody.

Larsgård fumbled with the chair, he had to sit down. Perhaps it was all nonsense, one of these practical jokers phoning to annoy him, he’d read about them in the paper. But he didn’t sound like one, he was educated, almost affable in his manner. He listened and strained, asked him to repeat, trying unsuccessfully to understand what the man meant. It was obviously a misunderstanding, and they’d soon realise it. But even so, it was an awful experience for poor Eva, a terrible thing. Custody? He’d have to go immediately. Phone for a taxi.

‘No, we’ll send a car for you, Mr Larsgård, just sit and relax until it arrives.’

Larsgård sat. He forgot to replace the phone. He ought to put on some clothes before the car arrived, but then
he
thought it didn’t really matter. Whether he was cold or not. They had got hold of Eva and locked her up. Maybe he ought to try to find something for
her
instead, perhaps it was cold in there. For a time he tried to get his bearings in the room, to recall where his things were. It was his home help who did the tidying. Perhaps he should take a bottle of red wine along? But maybe that wasn’t allowed. What about money? He had plenty of money in his jam jar, it seemed to be never-ending, as if it were breeding. He rejected that too, thought it unlikely there was a kiosk at the courthouse, he’d been there once, the autumn his moped had been stolen, and he couldn’t remember seeing one there. Besides, they said she was in custody, and that meant she wouldn’t be allowed out anywhere. He wanted to get up and go into the living room again, but his legs felt so feeble and strange. He had his good moments and his bad moments, he was used to that, but now he’d had a shock. He would have to sit for a while. Perhaps he ought to phone Jostein. He made another attempt, but fell back suddenly feeling faint. He often felt faint, it was caused by the hardening of the arteries at the back of his neck which prevented enough blood reaching his head, and this was because of his age, a perfectly normal situation, really, given the circumstances. But it was annoying, especially now because it wasn’t subsiding. The ceiling began to get lower. The walls, too, began to close in, from each side, it all felt so cramped, and gradually it got darker. Eva had been arrested for murder, and she’d confessed. He took a firm grip of himself and pushed hard with his legs. The last thing he felt was his sharp knees striking his brow with great force.

Chapter 33

SEJER LOOKED OUT
of the window at the car park. At the flimsy gate through which the shadier street life constantly broke in, to vandalise or steal equipment, and the tufts of dry grass along the fence. Mrs Brenningen had planted petunias there once, now the weeds had won the battle. No one had time to weed. The report told him that the remand prisoner Eva Magnus hadn’t slept at all, and that she’d refused all food and drink. It didn’t look good. In addition, she’d been very troubled by the way they could look in on her through the window in the door, and at the light being left on all night.

He had to get up and give her the news, but he felt a huge reluctance, and so it was a relief when there was a knock at the door. A tiny postponement. Karlsen stuck his head in.

‘You’ve had rather a night, I hear!’ He sat down heavily by the desk. ‘We’ve had a missing-person report.’

‘Ah!’ said Sejer. A new case was just what he needed, something that would remind him that, after all, it was only a job he was paid to do, and that he could lock it away in his drawer at four o’clock, at least if he made an effort. ‘I’ll take anything provided it’s not a child.’

Karlsen sighed. He, too, threw a glance at the police cars as if to make sure they were there. They were like a couple of old cowboys who’d found themselves a table in the saloon and were constantly on the lookout for horse thieves. ‘Have you told Eva Magnus yet?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m finding any excuse for postponing it.’

‘Not much point, is there?’

‘No, but I’m dreading it.’

‘I could do it for you.’

‘Thanks, but it’s my job. Either I do it, or I should retire.’ He glanced at his colleague. ‘Well, who didn’t come home last night?’

Karlsen pulled a sheet of paper from his inner pocket and unfolded it. He read it to himself, tugged at his moustache a couple of times and reluctantly cleared his throat: ‘Six-year-old girl, Ragnhild Album. Slept over with a friend in the area last night and was supposed to walk home this morning. Walk of only about ten or twelve minutes. She was pushing a pink doll’s pram with one of those crying dolls in it. Called Elise.’

‘Elise?’

‘One with a dummy in its mouth. When you pull it out it begins to cry. They’re all the rage now, every little girl has one. But you’ve got a grandson, so you won’t have seen them. But I have. They wail just like a real baby. Sounds like something out of a Hitchcock film. Anyway. She also had a nightie in the pram and a small bag with a toothbrush and comb. No sign of any of it.’

‘Missing since …?’

‘Eight o’clock.’

‘Eight?’ Sejer glanced at the clock. It was eleven.

‘Ragnhild wanted to return home just after they woke
up
this morning. The mother of her friend didn’t ring Ragnhild’s mother to say she was coming. She was still in bed herself. But she heard the girls getting up, and Ragnhild leaving at about eight. She went on her own, it wasn’t far, and the mother knew no more about it till Ragnhild’s mother rang at ten and asked her to send the girl home. They were going shopping. Now she’s completely vanished.’

‘She lives – where?’

‘In Fagerlundsåsen, Lundeby. The new estate. They’ve just moved into the area.’

Sejer drummed on his map-of-the-world blotting pad. His hand covered the whole of the South American continent. ‘You and I’d better get off there.’

‘We’ve already sent a patrol car.’

‘I’ll talk to Magnus first. Then at least that’ll be over. Let the parents know we’re on our way, but don’t give them a time.’

‘The mother. The father’s away, they can’t get hold of him.’ Karlsen pushed back his chair and stood up.

‘By the way, how did you get on with those tights for your wife?’

Karlsen looked startled.

‘Pantyliners,’ Sejer said by way of explanation.

‘They weren’t tights, Konrad. Pantyliners are things women wear at a certain time of the month.’

He left, and Sejer chewed his nail as he felt an incipient nervousness grow in his stomach.

He didn’t like it when six-year-old girls failed to arrive home when expected. Even though he knew there could be lots of reasons for it. Everything from divorced fathers demonstrating proprietorial rights, to homeless puppies that needed coaxing back home, or thoughtless older
children
who took them out without letting anyone know. Sometimes the kids were asleep in some bush or other, thumb in mouth. Not so many six-year-olds perhaps, but it had certainly happened with two- and three-year-olds. Sometimes they simply got lost, and wandered around hour after hour. Some began to bawl immediately, and got picked up. Others kept walking, speechless with fear without attracting notice. At least the roads were quiet at eight o’clock in the morning, he thought, and felt easier.

He did up the top button of his shirt and rose. He reached for his jacket, too, as if the fabric could protect him from what was to come. Then he walked down the corridor. The morning light gave it a greenish hue reminding him of the old swimming baths he’d used as a boy.

The remand cells were on the fifth floor. He took the lift and felt a trifle idiotic as he always did, standing there passive inside the small cage which travelled up and down the building. It was too fast, as well. Things ought to take their allotted time. He felt he arrived too soon. Suddenly he was standing in front of the cell door. For a moment he wanted to resist the temptation to peer in first, but he couldn’t. When he looked through the window he could see her sitting on the bunk with the blanket around her. She was staring through the window where a small patch of grey sky was visible. She started when she heard the rattle of the lock.

‘I can’t bear this waiting!’ she said.

He nodded as if he understood.

‘I’m expecting Dad. They were going to fetch him. My solicitor rang, they’re collecting him in a taxi. I don’t know why it’s taking such a long time, it’s only half an hour’s drive.’

Sejer remained standing. There wasn’t anywhere to sit. Sitting on the bunk next to her was too intimate. ‘You’ll have to get used to the waiting, there’ll be a lot of that in the future.’

‘I’m not used to it. I’m used to doing things all the time, I’m used to the day never being long enough and used to Emma always nagging and wanting something. It’s so quiet here,’ she said in despair.

‘Take some good advice. Try to sleep at night. Try to eat something. Things will be too tough otherwise.’

‘Why are you here anyway?’ She looked at him, suddenly suspicious.

‘There’s something you ought to know.’ He walked a few paces and prepared himself. ‘As regards your case, and the sentence, it may not be that important. But in certain other respects it could be rather hard.’

‘I don’t understand what you …’

‘We’ve received various reports from forensics.’

‘Well?’

‘Both about Maja Durban and Egil Einarsson. They’ve been conducting a number of tests. And they’ve discovered something, which for you, is rather unpleasant.’

‘Well, tell me then!’

‘Maja Durban was asphyxiated by the murderer pressing a pillow to her face.’

‘Yes, that was what I said. I sat there watching.’

‘But before that they had sex. And that gives us a number of very concrete clues as to the identity of the murderer. And the fact is,’ he drew in his breath, ‘that the man
wasn’t
Einarsson.’

Eva sat staring at him. Her face was impassive. Then she smiled.

‘Mrs Magnus,’ he went on, ‘the fact is you’ve killed the wrong man.’

She shook her head emphatically and spread her arms, the smile was still there, but it was slowly congealing. ‘Excuse me, but I’m certain about that car. Jostein and I, we had one just like it!’

‘Please, just forget the car for a moment. Maybe you’re right about that. But in that case it wasn’t Einarsson who was driving.’

A sudden doubt assailed her. ‘He never lent it to anyone,’ she stammered.

‘He may have made an exception. Or someone may have borrowed it without his permission.’

‘It’s not true!’

‘How much did you really witness? You were peering through a narrow crack in a door that was ajar. The room was in semi-darkness. Weren’t you sitting with your hands in front of your face for much of the time?’

‘I want you to go,’ she sobbed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said feebly.

‘How long have you known this?’

‘Some time.’

‘Find out where Dad is!’

‘They’ll certainly be on their way. Try to rest a bit, you’ll need it.’ He waited there, feeling as if he wanted to rush out, but he controlled himself. ‘The crime itself is the same,’ he said.