He Who Fears the Wolf (15 page)

Morgan set the bottle on the floor. He was alone with an insane murderer, and it was important to stay alert, although he didn't feel very clear-headed right now. His mind was fuzzy. He was asking himself why in heaven's name he had ever brought this damn hostage along. He could have got away without him.

"So a witness saw you," he said slowly, staring at Errki. He looked as if he were asleep.

"A fat little boy," Errki muttered. "A butter mountain of a teenager with tits as big as my mother's."

He turned to look at Morgan with an inscrutable expression. "Her brains were running down the steps."

"Shut up! I don't want to hear about it!" His voice had an undercurrent of panic, like a raw drone.

"You're scared," said Errki.

"I'm not going to listen to you! There's nothing but insane babble coming out of your mouth! Why don't you talk to your voices instead. I'm sure they understand you better."

A long silence followed. The erratic buzz of a fly on the windowsill was the only sound. Morgan wondered whether he should go to his sister's place in Oslo and hide there. She'd give him a good piece of her mind, but she wouldn't turn him in. She was a hopelessly silly woman who couldn't stop talking, but Morgan was her little brother. He had robbed a bank, but he hadn't killed anyone, least of all an old woman.

"No!" Errki shrieked and stood up. He leaned towards the window and stared outside.

"What are you screaming about? Are they hassling you? Cut out the bullshit, it's making me tired. There's nobody in there!"

Errki put his hands over his ears.

"Good Lord, the way you carry on, man!"

Morgan touched his nose again. It was throbbing harder now. He felt like laughing. The guy was raving mad. Maybe he couldn't even remember that he'd killed someone.

"Hey," he said in a hoarse voice, "maybe it'd be better if you went back to the asylum. What do you think?" His voice sounded tiny and thin.

Errki pressed his forehead against one of the dark mullions of the window frame and felt the fragrant heat outside fill his nostrils. There was a vulnerability about the room which he liked and disliked. It reminded him of something. There was a faint grumbling down in the cellar.

"This is totally ridiculous, it's insane," Morgan said. "Here I am with a mutilated nose and a bag full of money, while you stand there babbling to yourself, with a murder on your conscience. And we're both wanted by the police. It's unbelievable!" He shut his eyes and made a few strained attempts at laughter.

"I don't give a damn," he said. "I really don't give a damn what happens. We're all going to die anyway. We might as well die right here, in this dusty shack."

He lay back down on the sofa, feeling as if he were dissolving, with something swarming inside him that took off and flew away. He was so lethargic. Maybe his mind was seeping out.

"I'm going to sleep for a while."

Errki was still standing at the window. He tried to remember her dress but discovered that he was having trouble recalling whether it was red with green checks or green with red checks. He couldn't picture it. But he did remember her braid. And her resigned expression as she hacked at the dandelions in the grass. It was so simple. The weeds were ruining her lawn and had to be removed. And then she had called to him with her voice full of fear.

"Shut up!" he screamed, trembling.

"Excuse me," said Morgan wearily. "I just wanted to tell you that I really don't give a damn what happens."

"I'll do whatever I want. You can't tell me what to do!" Errki shouted, shaking his fist at the world outside the window.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Morgan mumbled. He rolled over on to his side, keeping one hand like a protective shield over his nose. "When I wake up I'm going to be very sick. Maybe you should go down to the village to get help. I wouldn't mind if you did. I just don't care any more. I promised to get the money, and I did."

"My name is Errki Peter Johrma. I'm going to lie down."

"Do whatever you want," Morgan muttered. His voice was scarcely a whisper in the silence.

Errki went into the bedroom. He leaned down and rummaged under the mattress until he found the gun, and stuck it into the waistband of his trousers. He was ready. He curled up with his jacket under his head and fell into a deep sleep.

"What Kannick needs right now is to win a trophy," Margunn said firmly. "One he can keep shiny and polished and show to his mother. He could do it, he's certainly good enough. In fact, archery is the only thing he is good at." She nodded twice to emphasise her remark.

They were sitting in her office. Sejer smiled, indicating that he too wished Kannick could win that trophy.

"Is he having trouble dealing with what happened?" he asked, staring at her face with fascination. Beautiful she was not. She looked like a man, with a high forehead, wrinkled skin, the hint of a moustache and a deep voice. And she was filled with an unshakeable faith in the goodness of human beings, and especially the individuals in her charge. Benevolence spread like an attractive, blushing eagerness over her rough face.

"He's handling it fine. At least, he seems to be able to focus on the archery match, and in that way hold everything else at bay. You should also bear in mind that the boys here have been through a little of everything. It takes a lot to unsettle them."

"I understand," said Sejer. "Tell me about Kannick."

Her chair scraped as she shifted position.

"Kannick is what we call a good old-fashioned accident. The result of his mother's impulsiveness and lack of character, which, from what I know of her family, she never had a chance to develop. Just like Kannick, she was always in the way. Nothing but a bother. Every summer Polish labourers come here to work on the farms. She was working at the petrol-station shop where the labourers would turn up every week to buy cheap cigarettes and maybe a porn magazine if they were feeling extravagant. No doubt they were the highlight of her week. Different, exotic. And, as she told me, much more gallant towards women than the men she was used to. She said, 'They treated me like a lady, Margunn!' It's clear that things like that made an impression on a girl who had long ago lost all trace of innocence, nor was remotely sorry for it. One day he turned up at the shop: Kannick's father. He'd been away from Poland for four months and was homesick, she said. It's not hard to imagine."

Margunn gave Sejer a conciliatory smile. "Kannick was conceived in the stockroom, after the station closed for the evening, among crates of crisps and chamois cloths. And it never occurred to her to regret it, at least not until she realised that the boy was on the way. He cried a lot as a baby, but she discovered that as long as he was full, he didn't fuss. What this technique has led to, you'll soon see. The mother was busy trying to find someone who would love her, and she still is. She doesn't want Kannick. She doesn't dislike him, but she just can't see that he's her responsibility. She feels that he was inflicted upon her, like an illness."

"What kind of problems caused him to end up here?"

"At first he acted up and was much too impulsive to function at a regular school. But now he's starting to close himself off. He spends a lot of time daydreaming, can't manage to show enthusiasm for anything, and doesn't make friends. He craves attention, and when he's in the spotlight, he blossoms. If he doesn't get everyone's attention, then he doesn't want any at all. An instructor comes to give him archery lessons every week, and in that situation he's more lively, because it's all about Kannick and what he can or can't do. But in a school setting he's just one of many students, and then he shows no interest in participating."

"So it's all or nothing?"

"Yes, something like that."

"Where is his room?"

"On the second floor, right at the back. There's a sticker for Freia Marabou chocolate on the door."

Sejer had brought along a bag of sweets. He knew he wasn't visiting a sick patient, but the poor boy had been through a terrible experience, and he could do with some extra kindness. But when Sejer saw the fat boy lying on his bed, he was sorry he had thought to bring sweets.

"Hello, Kannick. My name is Konrad."

He was standing in the doorway of the room that Kannick shared with Philip. Kannick was lying on his back, reading a comic, and chewing on something crunchy. He looked up, first at Sejer, and then at the bag he held in his hand.

"I'm from the police."

Kannick tossed his comic aside. "I told the other boys that I was sure you would come, but they didn't believe me. They said I wasn't important enough."

Sejer smiled. "Of course you're important. I've been talking to Margunn in her office. Mind if I sit down on the edge of the bed?"

The boy tucked up his legs. Carrying around that much weight must be like carrying a friend on his back, Sejer thought, as he handed the boy the sweets.

"Do you promise to share with the others?"

"OK." He put the bag on the bedside table.

"So you were the one who notified Officer Gurvin?"

The boy brushed back the shock of hair from his forehead. He was wearing cut-off jeans and a T-shirt, with black moccasins on his feet.

"He kept asking me about the time, but I wasn't wearing my watch. I had taken it to be fixed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sejer said. "Verifying the time is something that's very important for the police. Knowing the exact time that something happened can often help explain everything, or expose people who are trying to trick us."

Kannick gave him a scared look, as if Sejer might be insinuating something.

"Well, I can't trick you," he said, "since I had no way of telling what time it was anyway. But I know that it was seven o'clock when I left here, because of this." He pointed at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

"So you're something of an early bird, then. It's the summer holiday right now, isn't it?"

"It was so hot. I couldn't sleep. And Philip wheezes very loudly because of his asthma."

Sejer looked around the room. There was a hollow in the bed where Philip might have been lying before he came in. On the bedside table were bottles of medicine and an inhaler. Through the window he could see the heads of three boys who were examining his police car. Every once in a while they looked up at the window.

"It's still possible for us to arrive at an approximate time, if we help each other. Try to go over the day in your mind, from the moment you left here. You say that it was 7 a.m. And from here you walked up to the woods?"

"Yes."

"And you had your bow with you?"

"Uh, yes." He looked down.

"I'm not going to arrest you for it. It's Margunn's job to discipline you. Did you walk fast?"

"Not really."

"Did you stop along the way?"

"Sometimes I stopped to listen for a while. For crows, and things like that. Maybe a couple of times."

"There's a place up there where you often go, isn't that right?"

The boy tugged on the hem of his T-shirt to cover up his stomach. "There's a flat area up above Halldis's farm, with several paths that cross it, so I can choose whatever way I want to go. I know the place like the back of my hand."

His voice rose and fell. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his thighs wide apart. It was impossible for him to sit with his legs together.

"So you went up to that spot, up to the ridge, and you stopped twice along the way?"

"Yes."

"Can you estimate how long it took? Maybe if you compare it to something else that you do?"

"About the same time as an episode of
The X-Files."

"The X-Files?
Do they allow you to watch that programme here?"

"Jesus, yes."

"It takes about 45 minutes, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"So." Sejer crossed his legs and smiled encouragingly. "So, you're up on the ridge and it's about 7.45 a.m.?"

"I suppose that's right, yes."

Kannick glanced over at the bag of sweets. It was a large bag. He made a swift calculation. He knew that the large size held 52 pieces, which meant five for each of them, and two for Margunn. If he decided to share, as the policeman had said he should.

"And then you decided on one of the paths?"

"There are four of them. One goes over the ridge. One goes down to the place with the view. One goes to the old homestead sites, and one goes down to Halldis's farm."

"And that was the one you chose?"

"Yes. I didn't want to miss breakfast."

"And from the spot where you stood, is it far to her farm?"

"No. But I shot a crow along the way. And lost two arrows. I searched for them for a while, but couldn't find them. That took time. They're very expensive," he explained. "Carbon arrows, 120 kroner each."

Sejer nodded and looked at his watch. "So you searched for a while, but gave up. Then you headed for the farm. Did that take you longer than when you went up?"

"Less long, I think."

"Let's say that it was 8.15 a.m. by the time you reached her farm."

"That's probably a fair guess."

"Tell me what you saw."

He blinked, looking frightened. "I saw Halldis."

"When did you first catch sight of her?"

"When?"

"Where were you standing when you noticed her body?"

"At the well."

"You stopped near the well, did you, and that's when you saw her?"

"Yes."

Kannick's voice sounded more subdued now. He didn't want to think about what he was being asked to recall.

"Can you tell me how far it is from the well to the steps? Since you're good at archery, you must be able to judge distance, right?"

"I'd say 30 to 40 metres."

"That sounds about right. Did you go over to her?"

"No."

"But you were sure that she was dead?"

"It wasn't hard to see that."

"No," Sejer admitted. "Let's stop there, with you standing near the well, looking at Halldis. You were scared, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was."

"How did you happen to notice Errki?"

"I looked around," he said in a low voice. "I was frightened, so I looked all around. In every direction."

"I would have done the same thing. Was he far away?

"A little way up in the woods."

"Did you see him clearly?"

"Very clearly. I recognised his hair. He parts his hair in the middle. Long black hair, like a curtain. He was staring at me."

"What did he do when you noticed him?"

"Nothing. He stood there like a statue. I started running."

"And you took the road straight down?"

"Yes. I ran as fast as I could, carrying the case."

"So by then you had packed up your bow and put it in the case?"

"Yes. I ran the whole way, all the way from the farm."

"Do you know Errki well?"

"I don't know him at all. But he trudges along the roads around here, all year long. A while back he was put in the hospital. He always wears the same clothes, no matter whether it's summer or winter. Whenever I have seen him, he's been wearing black. The only thing that wasn't black was his belt buckle. It was big and shiny."

Sejer nodded. "Does Errki know you?"

"He's seen me a few times."

"Did he look scared?"

"He never looks scared."

"And he didn't say anything?"

"No. He just slipped behind the trees. I could hear the branches. There was a rustling in the leaves."

"What were you going to see Halldis about?"

"I wanted something to drink. I was thirsty. I've been there before. She knows us."

"Did you like her?"

"She was very stern."

"Sterner than Margunn?"

"Margunn isn't stern at all."

"But you were sure she would give you something to drink. She must have been nice?"

"Both nice and stern. She always gave us what we asked for, but she would scold us as well."

"Grown-ups are strange, aren't they?" Sejer smiled. "Did all the boys here know her?"

"Everybody except Simon. He hasn't been here long."

"And occasionally you boys would go up there to talk to her?"

"We'd ask her for juice or a slice of bread."

"Did any of you ever go into her kitchen?" Sejer gave the boy a searching look.

"Oh no. We had to wait by the front door. She was always washing the floor. That's what she said. I've just washed the floor.'"

"I see. So you ran to Officer Gurvin to tell him what had happened?"

"Yes. He thought I was making it up."

"He did?"

"I had to tell him my address," he said, resigned. "You know how it is."

"Right. I understand," Sejer said. "I hear that you're good at archery, Kannick."

"Very good," he said proudly.

"Who gave you that bow? It must be expensive, isn't it?"

"The social welfare office paid for it so that I would spend my free time in a meaningful way. It cost 2,000 kroner, but that's not really expensive. When I'm . . . when I can afford it, I'm going to get a Super Meteor with carbon limbs. In sky-blue metallic."

Sejer was impressed. "Who's teaching you how to shoot?"

"Christian comes twice a week. I'm going to be in the national championships pretty soon. He says I have talent."

"You know that a bow is a deadly weapon, don't you?"

"Of course I do," the boy replied defiantly.

He knew what was coming. He bowed his head and shut his eyes to receive the rebuke. By closing off his ears he could reduce the words to the sound of a fly buzzing round and round.

"And when you sneak around, other people can't hear you. If you come upon someone picking berries, you could kill them by mistake. Have you ever thought of that, Kannick?"

"There's never anybody up in the woods."

"Except for Errki?"

Kannick blushed. "Yes, except for Errki. But picking berries isn't his thing at all."

They both fell silent. Sejer could hear muted voices coming from the courtyard. The boy looked up at him and bit his lip.

"Where is Halldis now?" he asked softly.

"In the basement of the Municipal Hospital."

"Is it true that they put them in a refrigerator?"

Sejer gave him a melancholy smile. "It's actually more like a long drawer. Did you know her husband?" he asked, to change the subject.

"No, but I remember him. He was always driving his tractor. He never talked to us, like Halldis did. He wasn't interested in children. And besides, he had a dog. When Thorvald died, the dog died too. It stopped eating."