In the Darkness (28 page)

‘Someone certainly will.’ Eva knotted the neck of the rubbish sack and went to the door. She had to be careful now. ‘They take that into consideration during sentencing, whether they show signs of remorse or not.’

‘Ha! So they simply say sorry for all they’re worth and get off lightly.’

‘It won’t be that easy. They have experts who can tell if you’re lying for that sort of thing.’ She shuddered at the sound of her own words.

Then she vanished outside, and he heard her banging the lid of the refuse bin. He waited a bit, but she didn’t return. There’s something up with the girl, he thought, as if she’s doing something I’m not supposed to know about, I know her too well to be fooled when she’s hiding things, just like that time when Mrs Skollenborg died, she went quite hysterical about it, it wasn’t normal, the old woman was almost ninety and none of the children liked her, but then she was a horrible old bag. There was something fishy about it. And now she’s doing something in the cellar, what in the name of all that’s holy is she doing down there?

He thought as he struggled with a disposable lighter which wouldn’t light; he rubbed it hard between his rough
hands
until the gas pressure had built up sufficiently, and finally he got a light. He’d managed to get a flame out of a supposedly empty lighter up to ten times. You really do learn to economise when you’re a pensioner, he reflected.

‘What d’you want with your steak?’ asked Eva, who’d finally emerged from the cellar holding an ovenproof dish in her hands.

‘What are you going to do with that?’

‘I found it in the cellar,’ she replied rapidly, ‘I’ll roast vegetables in it.’

‘Don’t you boil vegetables?’

‘Yes, sometimes. Do you like broccoli? Just tender with salt and butter?’

‘See if I’ve got enough wine.’

‘You’ve got plenty. I didn’t know you’d got an extra supply in the cellar?’

‘That’s in case I lose my home help. You never know. The council’s trying to save money, this year alone they want to save twenty million.’ He took a long drag at his cigarette to indicate that he didn’t want any comments.

‘When did you start getting interested in food?’ he said all at once. ‘You normally only eat bread.’

‘Well, maybe I’m starting to grow up. No, I don’t know, I just felt like it. Porridge and red wine just don’t go together.’

‘That’s pure nonsense. A good, well-salted rye porridge made with pork fat washed down with red wine is a really fine meal.’

‘I’m going to Lorentzen’s, to their fresh-produce counter. Is there anything else you want?’

‘Eternal youth,’ he grunted.

Eva frowned. She hated him talking like that.

*

Without batting an eyelid she asked for half a kilo of fillet steak. The woman behind the counter was sturdy and wore disposable gloves, she reached resolutely for a large piece of meat that was almost the colour of liver. Was that
really
what fillet steak looked like?

‘Whole or in slices?’ She raised her knife to cut.

‘Well, what would be best?’

‘Thin slices. Wait till the butter turns brown and then skim them quickly across the pan. Just as if you were running barefoot across newly laid asphalt. Whatever you do, don’t fry them.’

‘I don’t think my father would take to raw meat.’

‘Don’t ask what he wants, just do as I say.’

She smiled suddenly, and Eva was captivated by this chubby woman in her white nylon coat and becoming little net cap. A symbol of hygiene perhaps, but it looked more like a little crown, she thought, and all the dead meat on the counter was the realm over which she reigned.

She weighed the meat and put the price sticker on, gently, as if bandaging a wound. A hundred and thirty kroner, it was an unbelievable price. She wandered for a while amongst the shelves picking out the odd small item which she dropped in her basket, it was best to put them straight into the fridge without saying a word to her father, otherwise he wouldn’t accept them. Cheese, liver pâté, two bags of the best coffee, butter, cream. Biscuits with fillings. And on an impulse she grabbed three pairs of pants from the clothes rack. It was just a case of smuggling them into his chest of drawers and hoping he’d use them. By the checkout she added a box of marzipan and nougat chocolates, two magazines and a carton of cigarettes. The final bill was overwhelming. But it struck her that all old people ought to be able to buy such a basket of groceries,
at
least once a week, so that they could enjoy themselves a little at the end of their lives. Young people can eat porridge, she thought. She paid, carried the bags out to the car and drove back.

‘Why did he do it, d’you think?’ said her father, as he chewed the tender meat.

‘Do what?’

‘Kill her. In her bed and everything.’

‘Why are you curious about it?’

‘Aren’t you?’

Eva waited a moment and chewed slowly, mostly for show, she could have swallowed the meat whole. ‘Yes, a bit. But why do you ask?’

‘I’m interested in the dark side of human nature. You’re an artist, aren’t you interested? In the drama of humanity?’

‘It was a bit unusual, the world she lived in. I don’t know anything about it.’

‘She was about your age.’

‘Yes, and rather silly. Laying yourself open to that kind of trade isn’t particularly clever. She was probably only thinking of one thing: the most money in the shortest possible time. Tax free. They must have started arguing or something.’ She filled her father’s glass and ladled a spoonful of gravy over his meat.

‘It’s a sort of threshold they cross,’ he said pensively. ‘I wonder what it is, what it means. Why some people overstep it, and others could never dream of doing so.’

‘Everyone can,’ Eva said. ‘It’s circumstances which dictate. And they don’t step over either – they stray over. They don’t see it until they’re on the other side, and then it’s too late.’ It is too late, she thought in astonishment. I’ve stolen a fortune. I really have.

‘I socked someone at work once,’ her father said all at
once
, ‘because he was malicious. A really rotten character. Afterwards he showed me real respect, as if he acknowledged the fact. I’ve never forgotten it. It’s the only time in my life I’ve ever hit someone, but just then it was totally necessary. Nothing else in the world could have soothed my fury, I felt that I’d have gone mad if I hadn’t given him one, it was as if my brain was seething.’ He took a few sips of wine and smacked his lips thoughtfully.

‘Aggression is fear,’ Eva blurted out suddenly. ‘Aggression is always really just self-defence, in one way or another. A method of defending oneself, one’s own body, one’s own intelligence, one’s own honour.’

‘There are people who kill merely for gain.’

‘Yes, of course, but that’s something different again. The woman in the paper certainly wasn’t killed for money.’

‘In any case, they’ll get him soon. One of the residents in the block saw the car. I think it’s so funny, the way their cars always give them away. They haven’t even got the sense to use their bloody feet when they go off to commit their awful crimes.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Didn’t you see that bit? He hadn’t realised it was important. He’d been away until this morning. But he’d seen a car go round the corner at high speed, early in the evening. A white car, not entirely new. Probably a Renault.’

‘A what?’ Eva dropped her knife on her plate so the gravy splashed.

‘A Renault. A special model that’s not very common, so they thought it would be easy to find him. These car-registration places are good, it’s just a matter of searching for everyone with that type of car and visiting them one by one. And then they have to produce an alibi, and God help the ones who can’t. Clever stuff.’

‘A Renault?’ Eva ceased chewing.

‘Yes. Elderly taxi driver, knew about cars. Lucky it wasn’t some old woman, they can’t tell the difference between a Porsche and a Volkswagen.’

Eva prodded her broccoli and felt her hands shaking. What a nuisance, she thought, talk about a blind alley! ‘He could have made a mistake. Think of all the time they’ll waste!’

‘But they haven’t got anything else to go on, have they?’ her father said in a surprised voice. ‘Why should he make a mistake? He knows about cars, that’s what they said on the radio.’

She gulped at her wine and tried to conceal her despair. Could a Renault really resemble an Opel? French cars looked so completely different. Perhaps he was some fool who wanted to seem important. She thought of Elmer and how happy such a ridiculous observation must be making him, he must have heard it, he was probably glued to the radio during the news bulletins and was even now rubbing his hands with relief, it was enough to make you weep.

‘D’you want mousse for pudding?’ she said abruptly.

‘Yes, if I can have coffee as well.’

‘You always do!’

‘Yes, yes,’ he said disconcerted, ‘it was only a joke!’

She got up and cleared the table, there was a clatter and clash of plates and cutlery, she’d have to do something about this. It was her fault that he was still free, they could have got him already if she’d told the truth. Now perhaps they’d arrest someone else. She placed a cigar next to her father’s glass and rinsed the plates. Afterwards they ate their mousse in silence, it stuck to her father’s upper lip like white foam and he licked it off with great
relish
. He glanced at her now and again, he’d adopted a slightly lower profile. Perhaps, he thought, it was a bad time of the month. When she’d settled him on the sofa, she went to wash up. First she stuffed four hundred-kroner notes into his jam jar and hoped that he didn’t know exactly what his financial resources were. Afterwards, they sat next to each other on the sofa, sleepy from the food and wine. Eva had calmed down.

‘They’ll get him all right,’ she said slowly. ‘There’s always someone who’s seen something, who’s just a little slow off the mark, but they come forward eventually. Nobody gets away with that sort of thing. The world isn’t that unjust. It’s difficult to keep quiet as well, perhaps he’ll confide in someone when he’s drunk or something like that. A man who’s capable of killing like that, in anger for example, who’s that unstable, he won’t be able to control himself for the remainder of his life without giving himself away. And then he’ll have to confide in somebody. Who’ll go to the police. Or perhaps they’ll offer a reward, and then someone or other will rush out and report him, some greedy type.’ Her own words stuck in her throat. ‘What I mean is, somewhere there’s a person who feels responsible for seeing that right prevails. People are just a little slow, that’s all. Or they’re scared.’

‘No, they’re cowardly,’ mumbled her father sleepily. ‘That’s the point. People are cowardly, they only think about their own hide, don’t want to get mixed up in anything. It’s nice you’ve got such faith in justice, my dear, but it’s not much help. To her, I mean. No one can help her any more.’

Eva made no reply, her voice would have broken. She drew on her cigarette.

‘Why did you thump that man?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Who?’

‘The man at work, the one you were talking about.’

‘I said. Because he was malicious.’

‘That’s no answer.’

‘Why did you go into such hysterics when Mrs Skollenborg died?’ he asked.

‘I’ll tell you about it some other time.’

‘On my deathbed?’

‘You can ask on your deathbed, and then we’ll see.’

Night was coming on. Eva thought about Elmer and wondered what he was doing. Perhaps he was sitting staring at the wall, at the pattern of the wallpaper, at his own hands, as he marvelled at the way they could live their own life like that and act beyond his control. While Maja lay in a refrigerated drawer, without consciousness, without a single thought in her cold head. Eva had no thoughts left either, she poured more wine, and felt them fade away into a mist she could no longer penetrate.

Chapter 29

THE MORNING ARRIVED
, misty and breezy, but the mist cleared as they were having breakfast. The radio murmured in the background. Eva listened with half an ear which suddenly pricked up. It was the news. A man had been detained in connection with the killing. A fifty-seven-year-old bus driver with a white Renault. They both listened, ignoring their food.

‘Ha!’ said her father. ‘He’s got no alibi.’

Eva felt her heart sinking. The suspect admitted to having bought sex from the victim on several occasions. Not surprising, there were lots of them, they had virtually besieged Maja for two years. She could see his future falling apart now, this innocent bloke, perhaps he had a family. She thought: it’s my fault.

‘Wasn’t it just what I said,’ said her father triumphantly, ‘they’ve got him already.’

‘It all sounds a bit too simple to me. Just because he’s got that make of car and no alibi. And anyway, there’s no law against buying sex. In the old days,’ she said raising her voice, ‘men weren’t men unless they visited a brothel.’

‘My goodness,’ said her father glancing up.

Eva was sweating.

‘Why are you being so negative? Don’t they always catch them straight away? This is a small town.’

‘They sometimes get it wrong,’ Eva retorted. She was struggling with the tough crust of her father’s wholemeal loaf as she felt a decision force itself on her. She had to do something.

‘There must be loads of men who’ve paid visits to … that woman, and have got white cars, and no alibis.’

She finished eating and got up. Cleared the table. Washed up, pushed her wallet in between two newspapers in the living room and got her coat. She gave her father a quick hug.

‘See you again,’ she said waving, ‘soon.’

‘I certainly hope so.’

He pushed back his false teeth, which had a tendency to drop down if he smiled too broadly, and waved after her. As he watched the Ascona lurching up the road, he felt the trembling start as it always did when he’d had company for some time and suddenly was alone again. Soon she was moving at a good speed down towards Hov tunnel. I’ll head for Rosenkrantzgate, she thought, to the green house. And find out who he is. She had a shoulder bag in the car, and with her long skirt she could pass for a saleswoman, or the representative of some sect or other. Perhaps she might catch a glimpse or two of his wife or get a word with the boy, if that was his son, she thought. Jehovah’s Witnesses, didn’t they always wear skirts? And long hair, at least they’d done so when she was a girl. Or was that the Mormons, or were they the same?