Hell Fire (7 page)

When she got back to the house, she nodded to Ingemar as she passed through the kitchen and set to work. She found some yellow rubber gloves and two black garbage bags in the cupboard. She pulled the plug out of the bathtub and tried to wring as much water as possible out of the soiled comforter, but it wasn't easy. It weighed a ton because it was wet, and it was hard to get it all into the garbage bag. She put the dirty sheet and pillow in the other bag. She tied them closed and carried them out into the snow because if they were left in the house they'd stink the place out. She went back in and got started on the mattress. Even though she didn't manage to remove the stains completely, she got rid of a lot and the smell faded. Then she turned it. She found some clean sheets, which she had washed a while ago in Ingemar's old machine down in the cellar, and then made up the bed and washed the floor. Finally she went back into the bathroom and scrubbed the bathtub.

“That's me finished,” she told Ingemar. “Everything's done now.”

He didn't want to look at her. Maybe he was ashamed after all. She went out to the car and called the office.

“I've done it,” she said to Ragnhild. “It wasn't as bad as I thought. The garbage bags are standing in the snow outside. His children can deal with them. If they bother to show up.”

“Bonnie, I have to thank you,” Ragnhild said. “I'm pretty certain that none of the others would have done that, but then none of the others are as dedicated as you.”

Bonnie put the key in the ignition and started the car.

“You can go home now,” Ragnhild said, all of a sudden.

“I'm sorry?” Bonnie was so surprised her mouth dropped open.

“You earned some extra time off. You're invaluable.”

When Bonnie appeared in the doorway to the playroom, Simon jumped with joy. He ran across the floor into her arms as fast as his little legs would carry him. She squeezed him tight.

“Was Kaja pleased to get the perfume?” she whispered.

Simon nodded happily. “But Märta was jealous.”

Bonnie smiled and said not to worry. She carried him in her arms to the office, where Kaja was doing some paperwork. She exchanged a few friendly words with her and then took him out to the car.

“The toy store,” she said. “I promised you yesterday. Have you thought about something you'd like that isn't too expensive?”

Simon beamed from the back seat. Oh yes, he had thought about it a lot. Because he'd once gone Christmas shopping with Granny Henny and had seen something that he really liked. But it wasn't what he got that Christmas and he'd never forgotten about it.

The parking lot by the shopping center was full, so Bonnie waited patiently, and soon enough she saw a van reverse out of a parking spot.

“That was lucky.” She slipped the Opel into the space, and they got out. Simon was so excited that he climbed the high escalator steps. They went into the toy store and started to wander along the shelves. It was clear that Simon was looking for something in particular, because he was patient and systematic. Every now and then, he lifted something up and stood for a while admiring it, but his mind wandered back and he continued his search. He finally found himself in front of a shelf with all kinds of animals in all shapes and colors. There were lots of cuddly stuffed animals, but he already had a well-loved teddy bear with black glass eyes. No, he was looking for something else. He picked up some big bags of colorful plastic and rubber animals, each containing a different type of animal. One of them was full of rubber snakes with beautiful zigzag patterns on their backs and poisonous red tongues.

“Ugh, you don't want snakes, do you?” Bonnie asked, shivering. “They're horrible.”

Simon liked them because they were soft and nice to touch, but he put them down. He lifted up another bag, this one full of Norwegian farm animals: sheep and cows and horses, a goose with orange feet, some hens and a spotted dog. He put these animals back too. And when he lifted up the third bag, he had found what he was looking for. Wild animals from the African savannah. A lion with a great mane. An elephant, a giraffe, a rhinoceros, and a hippopotamus. An ape and a beautiful flamingo, a gnu and a hyena, and a vulture.

“One hundred and ninety-eight kroner,” Bonnie said. “We've got just enough.”

They paid for the animals, and Simon carried them out in a shopping bag. As they approached the car, Bonnie suddenly stopped. On the windshield, under the wipers, was a piece of yellow paper. For some reason, she'd been given a parking ticket. With slow steps, she went up to the car and snatched the piece of paper; it was like plastic, weather-resistant. She had parked in a handicapped parking spot. The low sign showing the handicapped symbol was buried by the snow, so she hadn't seen it. Seven hundred kroner, she sobbed. Simon could see that his mother was upset. And even though he was happy to have his animals, this alarmed him. Bonnie put the yellow piece of paper in her bag and made light of it. She didn't want to ruin the day.

Once they were home, Simon asked for some scissors. He cut open the bag and let all the wild animals fall onto the floor. With great respect, he placed them in a big circle with the lion in the middle; only the buffalo was walking away.

“Scar?” Bonnie asked.

“Mufasa,” Simon replied. “We should get a jungle.”

Bonnie looked around the living room. She had potted plants on two windowsills, so she lifted them down, one by one. She made a lush green ring with them around the animals.

“Which one do you like best?” she asked.

“All of them,” Simon said without hesitation. He knelt on the worn wooden floor and admired the wild animals, lifting them up one by one and smelling them. Bonnie went into the kitchen, where she opened her handbag. She found the yellow slip and dried a tear.

FRANK WAS LYING
with his head on Sejer's feet. Sejer liked the feeling of being close to something warm and alive, even if that generally meant his socks got wet because the dog slobbered. He was holding a glass of whiskey in his hand, with no ice. On the table beside him was a pouch of tobacco that he rarely opened, being a man of moderation.

He thought about Bonnie Hayden. The long knife had pierced her body four times. In a fury or more methodically? He was certain that the murder had been planned, that there was a motive behind the evil act. A motive that he could not yet see. He had studied the photographs of the naked bodies for some time, Bonnie slim, Simon thin as a beanstalk. Both of them washed clean of blood, leaving the sharp wounds gaping, strangely narrow and precise. Bonnie had a tattoo on her shoulder. And over her breast, three moles in a gentle arc, which reminded him of Orion's Belt. He could just picture a man, perhaps Simon's father, stroking a finger over them, counting them solemnly. He could not imagine the fear and terror that must have filled the old trailer. But sometimes his imagination ran wild and then he struggled to breathe. When the glass was empty, he got up and switched off the lamp. On his way to the bathroom, he passed a photograph of his late wife, Elise.

“I'll never get over it,” he said to the picture. “Time passes, but this is not what I'd hoped for. Just so you know.”

ROBERT RANDEN SAW
the car through the kitchen window. He had been expecting the police, so he immediately went out to meet them and ushered them back into the kitchen.

“We can talk in here.”

There was a long sanded wooden table with eight chairs, each with a simple pattern carved on the back. Randen himself stood by the countertop.

“I can't sleep,” he said. “I keep remembering the smell. It smelled like a slaughterhouse.”

Sejer thought to himself that it would be impossible to live with the scene that Randen had discovered. He would remember it even when he was sitting in an old people's home. It would haunt him until the end of his days.

“How many people live here on the farm?” Skarre asked.

“My wife Solveig, myself, and our four girls in the main house. My mother lives in the cottage on the other side of the yard. And there are four Poles in the outbuilding. So that's eleven in total.”

“Could the killer have walked through the farm?”

“Well, of course. I mean, we're not always standing at the window. But I'm pretty sure he didn't, as there's practically always someone outside here. Certainly in summer. No, I reckon he crossed the fields. From the woods. If he had a car, he might have parked it in Geirastadir. Lots of walkers do that: there's plenty of room for cars there. In the autumn, people come to pick berries to sell at the market, but they usually come on mopeds. And most of them are from Lithuania.”

“Can you tell me about your four Polish farmhands?” Sejer asked. “Do they come back every year?”

Randen had decided that he wanted to sit down after all, and he pulled out a chair. Like most farmers, he was strong, lean, and weathered. His thick hair was the color of sand, and he would never lose it.

“This is the eighth year that they've come, so I know them well. They all have families back in Poland and they all have children. They've also got jobs to go back to in the autumn, and all four of them work hard and well, without complaining. We've never had any problems with them and they're never ill. They get up before us and go to bed late. I understand why you have to ask, but I would vouch for all four of them. Why on earth would they have anything to do with this? It's out of the question.”

Skarre shook his head. “We don't think they're involved either, but we still have to question them. Could they manage in English?”

“Woiciech speaks Norwegian. He's pretty good.”

“Tell me about Bonnie Hayden and her son,” Sejer said. “In as much detail as possible.”

“Well, they just appeared here on the steps. They were holding hands. The mother had picked a bunch of wildflowers, and she seemed a bit embarrassed, as if she was reluctant to ask. It was obvious that she was doing it for the boy; he was practically hopping on the spot. She asked if I owned the old trailer at the bottom of the field, and when I said yes, the boy could hardly contain himself. She told me that they'd walked past it and the boy wondered if they could spend the night there. That's all she said, and she squeezed the boy's hand while they waited for an answer. I said of course they could.

“To be honest, I was touched by the pair of them, but I did tell them that the trailer was in a terrible state—it's practically uninhabitable. But then they said that they'd already been inside and that it was good enough for them for just one night. They would go home to get some food and bring their bedding back with them. I said that was fine, and the boy really did jump for joy. ‘How much would you like for the night?' she asked. I almost laughed. ‘My dear,' I said, ‘I don't want anything for it. The trailer hasn't been used for years and should really be taken to the junkyard.' They looked around at all the farm buildings. She asked if they could park here, and I showed them a place behind the outbuilding, where the car wouldn't be in the way. And then they set off toward Geirastadir, to drive home and get all they needed. They waved to me before they disappeared. ‘We'll be back this evening, then,' the mother called to me. She seemed happy enough. And then they were gone.”

Randen folded his hands on the solid table. “When the men came back that evening, I told them that the pair of them were coming, so that they'd know. The Opel drove into the farm around seven o'clock. It was barely holding together, in a worse state than the trailer. I went out to greet them and to see if they needed any help carrying things down. The mother had a couple of comforters over her arm and the boy was holding a pillow and an old teddy bear. No, they'd manage themselves, they said. I watched them walk down across the fields; there was something quite sad about them.”

“What do you mean by that? Sad in what way?”

“I'm not really sure how to put it. Like they were two lonely souls in a big world. They came back again later and disappeared around to the car, only to reappear a few minutes later carrying a pizza box and a bag, which they took down to the trailer. Then I forgot about them and got on with other chores—there's always plenty to do on a big farm like this.”

He focused on a knot in the table; they could hear his breathing.

“Why did you go down to the trailer the next day?” Sejer asked. “You found them at 2 p.m. What were you doing down there?”

“I just went to say hello. To ask how the night had been.”

He told them that his wife had been busy baking all morning. An apple cake and an almond cake. The girls wanted the almond cake, and they decided to give the apple cake to the pair in the trailer. Emilie, aged ten, was allowed to put the thin slices of Pink Lady apples in the bottom of the tin like brickwork. Solveig rolled the dough into thin sausages that she then wove in a pattern on the cake and covered it with generous helpings of nib sugar and almonds. “So I took the apple cake and went down across the field,” Randen explained. “The door was open. I knocked on the wall and called out hello so they wouldn't get a fright when I suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“This might sound a bit dramatic, but I don't think my life will ever be the same.”

The four Poles were waiting outside the house and were all clearly affected by what had happened. Two of them had seen Simon outside the trailer, carrying his teddy bear. His mother had been standing in the doorway and waved to them as they passed, and they had touched their caps with their brown working hands and waved back. Beautiful weather, they had called, and she had smiled and nodded.

“Think carefully now,” Sejer urged them. “Did you see anything that might be of importance? I mean, people or cars in the vicinity of the farm in the days beforehand?”