Hell Fire (15 page)

When she had put the phone down, she poured another glass of wine and went into the living room, to Simon, who was watching lions in Africa. They were resting under an acacia tree, having just killed an antelope, and were bloody at the mouth. He found it interesting, but his thoughts kept returning to his mother. He realized that the problem with the car was not good. He thought about what she had said out loud.
Damn car.
Sometimes he dreamed that someone would parachute into their lives, perhaps from the sea in a big helicopter. Someone like his dad, Olav, for example. But he rarely mentioned it because his mom just shook her head and wouldn't say any more.

When Bonnie switched over to the news, Simon sat down at the table with his African animals; he lifted the vulture and let it attack a lion.

“There's a car coming,” he stated. Bonnie looked at him in surprise.

“Two cars,” he said and pressed his face to the window. Bonnie went over to look, but it was dark so she could only see the headlights. The cars stopped along the road, the doors opened. Two cars outside the gate, what could that mean? Simon watched his mother. Some of her tension transferred to him. He had seen her like this before, white in the face with worry. They went out into the hall to open the front door. There was Britt standing on the front step with her husband Jens behind her. They were both smiling. Bonnie looked at the two cars back on the road. She had never seen one of them before, but the other was Jens's red Volvo.

“The Ford belongs to my father-in-law,” Britt said, “but it's just been rusting away in the garage because he stopped driving after the heart attack. So you can borrow it while yours is getting repaired. It's probably just the lock cylinder and that won't break the bank. We'll tow your car to the garage; it's not a big job. Jens says it will be done in minutes.”

Bonnie started to cry. She was overwhelmed by her friend's ability to solve problems.

“You big softie,” Britt said and laughed. “Stop your crying. Most things can be sorted; you just need to be creative. Where were you going?”

“The video store,” Bonnie replied, looking down at Simon.

“Great, you take the Ford, then,” Britt ordered.

Bonnie had to laugh at that. “I've drunk half a bottle of red wine,” she admitted, “so I'd probably better not.”

Britt looked over at her husband. “Well, we'll just take you there in the Volvo, then,” she said. “What do you want to see, Simon?”

“
The Lion King,
” he said happily, because now the evening had been saved and his mom was smiling again.

She knew that it would be late by the time they got back. First they had to tow the Opel to the garage, then go to the video store, and then back here. They would both be late to bed. But right now she didn't care because she was so relieved. She stood for a while and looked at them, filled with immense gratitude. She didn't see Jens very often. But when she did, he always gave her that special look: a glint in his eyes that she had seen so many times before. She was used to men looking at her, but this was her best friend's husband. She didn't return the look.

WHEN THEY GOT HOME
after speaking to Munthe the vet, and Eddie had carried Shiba from the car into the house, they sat down in the kitchen. Mass fiddled with a box of tablets that the vet had given her: Metacam, chewable painkillers for dogs. They were tasty and Shiba had eaten one without hesitating.

“Eight is quite old for a dog,” Eddie said. “In human years, she's actually fifty-six.”

“Yes,” Mass said and looked straight at him. “She's as old as me.”

Eddie hadn't thought about that. He followed his mother with his eyes as she got up and went over to the countertop, where she stood, at a loss.

“Whatever,” Eddie said. “She's not exactly a puppy. And she's overweight, just like me.” He said this with a smile that his mother didn't see.

“I'll go and get the paper for you,” he said soothingly, “so you can relax a bit.” He pushed his feet down into his boots and went back outside. He didn't bump into Ansgar, which was a relief; the possibility of an encounter always added a touch of tension to his trips to the mailbox. Sometimes he thought that if Ansgar made any more sarcastic remarks, he would break his nose. Ansgar was a bit of a wimp really; he was bigger and stronger.

He collected the mail and went back inside. Mass was sitting in a chair waiting, and she took the newspaper from him. Eddie went to the fridge for a Cherry Coke and then sat down at the computer. He sat there thinking for a while before starting to search. His dad had spent his final years somewhere in Copenhagen; he had to be buried in one of the graveyards there. It must be possible to find out which one. He did a search for graveyards in Copenhagen, and when a long list popped up on the screen he felt slightly sick. He hadn't imagined there were so many; where on earth should he start? He ran down the names and addresses, reading them quietly to himself.

Assistens Cemetery in Nørrebro.Holmens Cemetery in Østre Farimagsgade. Solbjerg Cemetery in Roskildevej. Vestre Cemetery in Vestre Kirkegårds Allé. Vor Frelsers Cemetery in Amagerbrogade. And so it went on.

He slowly worked his way through them all. His mother didn't know where his father was buried; only his new family knew and they also lived in the city of Copenhagen, along with 1.2 million other people. But he still thought there must be a way to find him. Or his grave, of course, as he wouldn't find anything else. His mother did have some information, so he knew his name, date of birth, and the date he moved to Copenhagen.

“What are you doing?” Mass asked from her chair. “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing in particular,” Eddie said tersely. His mother wouldn't like what he was doing, he was sure of that. He didn't want to tell her about the plan he was hatching.

Mass lowered the newspaper. Once he had decided on something, he never gave up. Suddenly it occurred to her that he might be looking for a girlfriend—there were lots of people who met on the Internet these days. It was quite normal. He had said that he didn't want a girlfriend, but he could have changed his mind. And even though he was one of a kind and on the heavy side, she thought he was handsome, with his strong body and curly brown locks.

“Are you keeping secrets from me?” she teased.

“Yes,” was his reply.

She didn't want to ask any more questions, because even though they lived in the same house, he had the right to some privacy. After a while, he turned the computer off, and Mass went to the utility room to take some laundry out of the dryer. Eddie picked up the paper and turned to the crossword. He worked his way steadily through it, word for word. Biblical fruit, two words, ten letters.
Adam's apple.
Central star.
Sun.
Flame.
Girlfriend.
The expression “deadly defense” was harder, eleven letters. He had an “l” and a “u,” nine letters, so the word was
leukocyte,
a scientific term for killer cells. Purification works. That might also be something in the body. Six letters and he had an “e.”
Spleen.
Ideology, eight letters. Politics? Religion? Both fitted. After doing some more, he got the letter “m” and then “f.” The word was
manifesto
. But now he had to sort out this graveyard thing. The thought of his father's grave would not go away; he kept mulling it over in his mind. He would never forgive the woman who had taken his father from them, never. The audacity. He put the newspaper down and went into the kitchen. He bent down over the dog and whispered in her ear: “We'll be going to the vet again soon to have you put down.”

“Leave Shiba alone,” his mother said sternly. “She's ill and needs some peace.”

“I know.”

She was standing with a piece of clothing over her arm, and she held it up for him. It was his black New York sweatshirt and it had shrunk to child-size in the warm dryer.

“I want a new one,” he said, determined. “We'll have to go back to the store.”

“Aha,” she said and laughed out loud. “That's only because you want to see the Ethiopian girl again.”

AFTER FOURTEEN DAYS
on the rig, Olav Nøklan was flown back to the mainland by the helicopter service. Kathrine picked him up in the car, and their little daughter Ylva was in the back. He gave them both a good hug; he was happy to see them. But they didn't say much on the drive home. Olav knew what was waiting. Tomorrow the police would be on their doorstep, and the thought of all the questions they would ask was eating at him.

“What are you going to say to them?” Kathrine asked as she drove.

“Absolutely everything. I'll be honest and answer their questions as well as I can.”

“Do you think I should be there? I knew Bonnie as well, after all.”

“Don't know,” he said curtly. “They might want to talk to me alone.”

Ylva sat babbling in her car seat behind them, and he tried to stay calm. He had a horribly bad conscience about all manner of things, and he would definitely be the first to admit that if they asked. He should be ashamed. He should do everything he could to make up for it. He should repent.

“Why did you leave Bonnie?” Sejer asked. “Did you argue a lot?”

“No, we didn't, actually,” Olav admitted. “We had a good relationship. Especially after Simon was born. It was just that I fell head over heels for Kathrine. You can't control that sort of thing, can you? I'm only human.”

“Kathrine was seventeen?”

“Yes. It does sound a bit like cradle-snatching, but she was very mature. That was why we used her as a babysitter. And then what happened happened. It was a difficult time, and to be honest, I didn't know what to do. Kathrine and I had endless discussions, and I told her countless times that she could easily find someone else. And then we'd split up—we tried several times. But it didn't work. We couldn't end the relationship; it was almost impossible for me to think straight. So I decided to come clean and tell Bonnie.”

“How did she take it?” Skarre asked.

“Oh, it was unbearable,” he said with a sigh. “And I knew that she would struggle financially. She didn't earn much as a home health aide.”

“You could have helped her financially, couldn't you? With the money you must earn on Gullfaks?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I paid my share for Simon. She accepted that of course. But she wouldn't take a krone more. She was as bitter as can be and I didn't want to pressure her. But I begged her to tell me if she ever needed anything, because I did want to make up for what I'd done.”

“It's hard to understand why she said no,” Sejer remarked.

“You didn't know Bonnie.”

Sejer looked around the living room, which bore witness to both good taste and good money. The house that Bonnie had lived in after the separation was another story: a tiny old house where they had gone from room to room without finding anything that might help the investigation. Sejer had stood in the doorway to one of the bedrooms and looked at the unmade bed. The comforters were still in the trailer.

“How often did you see Simon?”

Olav bowed his head. He looked both guilty and unhappy.

“Hardly ever,” he confessed. “Bonnie always made it difficult. I think she wanted to punish me.”

“You didn't insist on more contact?”

“No. I guess I'm just a coward, that's all there is to it. And then Ylva was born. But I always gave him presents for his birthday and Christmas. I thought she might soften over the years, but to be honest, I didn't really believe she would. She was totally unforgiving.”

“Were you close when you were together?” Skarre asked. “I mean, did you share secrets and dreams? From your childhood, for example, or when you were teenagers?”

“Not really. But perhaps we should have. Though I have to say, my teenage years were pretty wild. And for obvious reasons I wasn't that keen to talk about it. Bonnie was pretty secretive about most things, not that I really wanted to know about her past—what did it matter?”

“But you had a good relationship?”

“Yes, in every way.”

“And the fact that she never got over the split, does that mean that she clung to you when you were together?”

“Yes.”

Kathrine came into the room with Ylva on her arm, and they asked her a couple of questions that verified what her husband had said.

As they walked to the door to leave, Sejer turned around one last time.

“Did you go to the funeral?”

“No,” he admitted.

Sejer stood for a moment, thinking. “I find it very strange that you didn't go to your own son's funeral,” he said. “Can you explain?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding wretched. “I'm totally ashamed of it. But the fact is that I was scared of Henny Hayden. She wasn't just bitter—she was furious with me for what I'd done to Bonnie and Simon. So I chose to stay away. I was scared she would make a scene; she's not the type to hold back. And I didn't want that to happen at Simon's funeral. So I drove up to Haugane Church last night with red roses.”

They parked beside a red Volvo and then went in to see Britt Marie, who had been Bonnie's closest friend for many years. Her husband and children were sent down to watch TV in the basement. The dog, Sugar Man, was asleep in front of the fireplace with his head on his paws.

“I've helped Bonnie with a lot over the years,” Britt said. “Now there's nothing more I can do. The only thing would be if I had some information that might in some way help you find him. But I have nothing.”

“Do you know if she had any unfinished business with anyone?” Sejer asked.

“No,” she replied. “It's hard to imagine—she was kindness itself.”