Murder of Halland (13 page)

I went outside with the washing. Across the cold floor of the utility room and out onto the wet grass. The sun blazed on the blue fjord. Everything looked so clear, though nothing was. I hung the sheets on the line. A gentle breeze tugged at them. Early that morning, I made a start on a short story. A single page, that was all. Now I heard Inger’s voice. My name. The detective. They hadn’t seen me. I pulled down on the clothes line and surveyed them from behind the sheets. Inger’s hair was streaked with grey and tousled. That surprised me. Funder looked round-shouldered. He wore a shirt as green as fire – if fire could be green. ‘Hey!’ I called. They came towards me. They were talking about Brandt.

‘Where is he?’ I asked.

‘At home, asleep. His lodger’s gone, so he’s on his own,’ said Inger. ‘All of a sudden, there he was. Out there on the bench, last night. Goodness knows where he’s been. I don’t think he’s well.’

Of course he wasn’t well.

‘He’s been held captive,’ I said.

Funder pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head, narrowed his eyes against the sun. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Down at the harbour, in the old warehouse,’ I said.

‘First you know nothing, then you know everything.’

‘It was because I kissed him.’

Funder shook his head.

‘You kissed Brandt?’

‘I can explain.’

He raised a finger. ‘I’ll be over in a minute,’ he said.

‘Good,’ I said.

Troels lay on the sofa. I handed him a cup of coffee and sat down. ‘How can anyone be so jealous at your age, and for what?’ I asked him. ‘You must have lost your mind. You do realize you could go to jail?’

He said nothing.

‘Where are you staying anyway?’

‘I’m sleeping in the warehouse. I bought it.’

‘You
bought
it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought I was over you, but I know you too well,’ I said. The muscle of his cheek twitched. ‘I lay in bed
with my laptop this morning and wrote the first page of a story about you. I’m calling it “The Clerk”’

‘Is that what I am?’

‘In your own way. Stay there and I’ll read to you.’

Cheek trembling, he closed his eyes. I read:

I giggled.

Troels turned and gave me a wounded look. ‘The story does not come across as the work of a grieving widow. More like that of a teenager, if you ask me. Abby’s right. You’re not grieving at all.’

‘That’s something else entirely.’

‘It’s not even about me.’

‘Yes, it is. Metaphorically. About the time when I knew you, when you were young and happy.’

‘That’s a long time ago.’

‘Yes.’

‘Perhaps the story is more about you than me.’

‘No. It’s about you.’

The doorbell rang. ‘Goodness!’ I said, and jumped to my feet. ‘That’ll be the police.’

Wednesday morning.

The sparrows chirped.

I had forgotten to take the sheets in and now they were damp with dew. Brandt sat in his wicker chair with a blanket around him.

‘Hello!’ I said, as kindly as I could, and stepped through the gap in the hedge. ‘Feeling any better?’ Shrugging, he pursed his lips as though tasting something bitter. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. I put my hand against his cheek. He recoiled slightly, but then leant into my palm with a sigh.

‘My daughter came to see me!’

‘Did she?’ His face brightened.

‘She was quite taken with your lodger!’

Nodding, he looked past me. ‘But was she taken with
you
?’

A good question.

‘She sent me a postcard.’

‘Well, I never!’ He sounded like an old woman.

‘My cousin doesn’t want to know me any more. She wrote to me too – a whole letter. I forgot to tell her about Halland’s funeral, so now she wants nothing to do with me.’

‘How could you forget to tell your only female friend?’

‘She says I think only about myself.’

‘She may be on to something there,’ said Brandt. ‘You don’t seem to be interested in how I’m faring either.’

‘I’m too embarrassed to ask.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You never do.’

‘Don’t I?’

‘Don’t pretend!’ he snorted. He looked like an old woman too.

‘Your lodger was very concerned.’

‘His name’s Joachim. Why can’t you call him by his name? Anyway, he’s gone home now and he’s taken my sister’s dog with him. The lady is not amused.’

‘Are you sure he took it with him? There’s one loose at the moment.’

‘There are other dogs, one would assume. Sometimes I think you have a very limited horizon.’

A blackbird sang. Lots of different birds sang. A moped drove along the tree-lined promenade. Mopeds were prohibited there.

‘I feel like my life’s a total waste,’ I said.

‘If your life’s a total waste, then mine is too.’

‘But you’re a doctor. Your life can’t be a total waste.’

‘If you’re not satisfied, then you should do something about it.’

‘I wrote something yesterday, something funny. Would you like me to read it to you?’

‘No, I wouldn’t, thank you very much. Do something about your life.’

‘I’m not in the mood for soul-searching.’

‘You never are.’

‘Aren’t I?’

‘Find some friends! Sell the house! Move!’

‘Away from you?’

‘You’re bored.’

‘I’m never bored!’ Turning, I watched my sheets flapping in the wind. One time in the twilight, I had got myself tangled up in a sheet as it hung on the line, and Halland had kissed me. The thought of Halland’s kiss made me dizzy. All the times he called, ‘Come out, come out!’ and I replied, ‘In a minute!’

‘Boring!’ said Brandt.

‘Yes, I am boring.’

‘We walk in the gloaming as we sleep!’

‘You keep saying so. And anyway, isn’t that OK?’

‘Did you find out who shot Halland?’

I tried to gauge his expression to see if he was making fun of me. ‘I don’t play at detectives.’

‘Don’t you want to know what happened?’

‘To you? I know it was Troels. I really am sorry.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I was talking about Halland. About whether there are any suspects.’

‘Stop it, Brandt! It’s not funny!’

‘It’s not meant to be funny. That’s not why I’m asking!’

‘It’s police work. I don’t poke my nose in.’

He looked at me.

‘I’ve informed them I don’t want to be told anything until they know for sure.’

Deep inside his surprising blue eyes I thought I saw a gleam.

But he would get nothing from me. I wouldn’t reveal what I thought about the police investigation. I would certainly not tell him that I preferred not to know
anything
at all.

‘He’s been up before the magistrate,’ he said.

‘Who, Troels? What on earth for? They don’t think he’s dangerous, surely?’

Brandt’s eyes.

‘They don’t think he’s dangerous, surely?’ I repeated.

I met the detective as I walked down the hill. He pushed up his sunglasses. ‘Good thing I bumped into you!’ he said. ‘I’ve just been down at Troels’s warehouse. What a mess. He had moved in there.’

‘And now he’ll be moving out again, won’t he?’

‘He certainly will!’ Funder narrowed his eyes against the sun. ‘I’m beginning to think that he may have been mad enough to have shot Halland.’

I thought so too, so I kept quiet.

‘But there’s a lot that doesn’t fit.’

‘Like what?’ I asked politely.

‘I thought you didn’t want to hear anything until we knew for sure. Isn’t that what you said?’

‘Yes. Why did you want to speak to me now, then?’

Pushing the sunglasses back down onto his nose, he smiled and continued up the hill.

‘Where did you get that tan?’ I called after him.

Turning, he shrugged and pointed up at the sun.

I went to the library. Tucking the local paper under my arm, I bought a soft drink from the vending machine and went through the half-empty room to the deck. Right on the edge of the fjord, the deck resembled a café with parasols. Lasse sat at a table with a friend. Not looking at each other, they were immersed in their mobiles. Lasse’s was blue, an old one like Halland’s. ‘Hi, Lasse!’ I said. With a swift, seamless movement, he stuck the mobile in his pocket. Smiling at me, he revealed his regular white teeth, then tossed his head back so his hair fell into place. I sat down with my back to them.

A dog came wagging its tail and sniffed at my legs under the table. ‘Where did
you
come from?’ I said, trying to sound friendly, but then it was gone.

I gazed across to the other side of the fjord. Everything was green. Everything had come into leaf. Soon you would be able to buy strawberries over there. We had bought some last summer. Or Halland had. He brought them home and I cheered. He said they were from the other side. They smelled delicious and tasted of the childhood you didn’t enjoy but now longed for. Which place did he get them from? The water lapped between the rocks. I could hear some children further away. A happy sound.

‘Lasse?’ I reached back with my outstretched hand and a moment later the phone lay in my palm. I curled my fingers around it, gauging its weight. Then I threw it as far as I could. Out into the glittering fjord.

Quotations in this book from works originally published in Danish, unless otherwise stated, have been translated into English by Martin Aitken. All other translations are cited in their respective bibliographic entries below.