When the Devil Holds the Candle

by Karin Fossum

  "What's wrong?"

  "Andreas," she gasped. "Andreas is missing."

  "What do you mean, missing?"

  I gave her a look of incomprehension. But I needn't have worried, because she was so absorbed in her own despair. That was actually quite typical of Runi. She didn't really see me at all, just stared down at her own unhappiness.

  "He hasn't been home for two days. I've been to see the police."

  "The police?" I was appalled.

  "I reported him missing."

  I pulled my cardigan tighter as I listened intently for sounds from the cellar, but I didn't hear anything. Maybe he had fainted, or fallen asleep. Dear God, even though I don't believe in you, please make him sleep!

  "But isn't Andreas often away from home?" I said. "Have you called his father?"

  "He's not there. The police have been out to talk to him."

  "What about his friends?"

  "He only has one friend, and he doesn't know anything. Something has happened to him, I'm sure of it. Good Lord! I feel so desperate. What if he ran away? We're always fighting. I was never happy with him, and maybe now he's had enough. I'm going crazy with this waiting. It's driving me crazy, Irma!" She leaned forward and began to sob. She sobbed for a long time while I searched for something to say. I'm not very good with words, and I started to feel a little embarrassed. Besides, I thought I could hear a sound from the cellar. Some sort of clicking noise. Faint, but definitely there. But he couldn't move, so it had to be something else. I searched frantically for an explanation. What if Runi heard it? But she would never dream that Andreas was lying in my cellar with his neck broken. She didn't have that much imagination.

  "Had he got himself mixed up in something?" I asked. It was like sprinkling water on frying oil: Runi at once started sputtering.

  "Don't talk like that! You sound just like his father. Andreas would never do anything illegal, if that's what you're insinuating. But so many strange things go on in this town, especially at night, so I fear the worst. I feel as if I'm going crazy when I think about everything that might have happened."

  She kept on crying, but more quietly now. I should offer her something, I thought, but then she would stay even longer, so I didn't.

  "Do you have any coffee?" she suddenly asked. I was annoyed, but couldn't very well refuse. She might get suspicious. Runi isn't especially bright, but she can be shrewd, in a primitive sort of way. I got up and turned on the coffee maker. That's when I heard the sound again. Runi was lost in her own thoughts. Her cigarette was sending a thin, disgusting stream of smoke towards the ceiling.

  "You should try calling everybody," I said with my back turned. It's important to keep the conversation going, I thought. As long as we keep talking she won't hear the noise from the cellar. "What about his work?" I said. "Have you talked to them?"

  "Of course I have."

  "He might have run off with a girl," I said. "He's so handsome, that Andreas. Having himself a little adventure. Did he have much money?"

  "I can't think that he did. He doesn't make much, and he's always sharing what he does earn with Zipp. If he had gone off with Zipp, I could understand it. But Zipp is at home. He's fine."

  "Zipp?"

  "His friend. They're inseparable."

  "Oh? Inseparable?"

  I took two cups from the cupboard, listening. A faint sound, from something thin and light.

  "I'm going to ask the police if they can report Andreas missing on the evening news on TV. With a photograph and everything. Apparently every time something runs on the evening news they get lots of calls. They say that there's always somebody who knows something."

  "That's not really true, is it?"

  "That's what they say."

  "They? Who are 'they'?"

  "People I've talked to."

  "But if anyone did know anything they would call, TV news or no TV news, wouldn't they?"

  I fumbled with the coffee filter and spilled coffee on the counter, but she didn't notice.

  "No. Because they often have good reasons for keeping quiet."

  "What? What do you mean?"

  I took a sugar bowl out of the cupboard and set it on the table. The sound from the cellar had stopped. Was he lying there listening to us? Did he recognise his mother's voice through the floorboards? Runi had such a shrill voice.

  "Can't you turn off that music!" she said. "I can't even think!"

  "All right, all right."

  I turned it down a little more. She gave me a look of surprise that I didn't do as she asked. All my life I've done what people told me to do, but not any more. I left the radio on. She shook her head.

  "What should I do?" she said.

  "I'm sure he'll come back soon," I said clumsily.

  "You don't understand anything! You don't realise how serious this is. Two days. Just think what could happen in two days!"

  "But he's not exactly a child," I objected.

  "Oh yes, he is. He's my child!"

  "I mean, he's probably off doing something. Something that he might not . . ." I stopped and shrugged my shoulders.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm just thinking aloud. You don't usually worry about him."

  "But this time he's disappeared!"

  "Yes."

  I put my hand on her arm. It was odd. Not once, in all the years that had passed, had I ever done that before. She looked at my hand in astonishment.

  "If they come over here," she said, "the police, to talk to you. Will you promise me one thing?"

  "Come over here?" There was a knot in my breast.

  "Well, you know him, after all."

  "No, no! I don't know him!" I felt the colour leave my face. "He's never been at home when I've come to visit you. Once or twice, but no more than that."

  "What are you saying?" She looked at me with dismay.

  "I just mean that I've hardly ever set eyes on him, Runi."

  "But you know perfectly well who he is! Don't talk like that!" She threw out her hands. "I'm just begging you to put in a good word for him. They're going to ask you what kind of a boy he is. I don't want them to think that he takes drugs or gets drunk, or anything like that. You just have to tell them the truth, that he's a good boy!"

  I was starting to sweat under my arms. I'm usually so dry and unflustered. "But I don't know much about what he does in his free time."

  "Good Lord, Irma, just do this for me, will you?"

  "I can't lie to the police." She looked so upset that I bit back my words.

  "Lie to them? I'm not asking you to do that. You just have to tell them the truth. Andreas is a decent young man with a steady job. I don't want them to get the impression that he's mixed up in anything bad. Then they won't put any real effort into looking for him. They'll leave him to his own devices. If only he were a girl. Then it's a different story; so many other things could happen. That's how they think. It's been hard enough, let me tell you, to get them to take this seriously!"

  "I'm sorry, Runi. I didn't mean it. But I hope they don't come here. They won't come here if you don't give them my name. There must be others who know him better. You know I don't really know him."

  "So you won't help me?"

  She looked stunned. As if at any moment she might fall off her chair.

  "Yes, of course I will."

  "I gave them your name a long time ago. They want to talk to everybody who knows him."

  I stood up and started tidying the counter, even though it didn't really need it. I moved the spice jars around and the potted plants. I didn't want her to see that I was on the verge of falling apart myself. The police at the door. And then I heard that sound again. I turned up the radio and stared out of the window in a panic.

  "Oh, please."

  "It's just that you make me so nervous," I stammered.

  "What's the matter with you? And why aren't you at work?" she asked all of a sudden, as if she were seeing me for the first time. It was horrible.
r />   "I'm not feeling very well. It will pass."

  She fell silent. I said nothing either. Outside, the wind was blowing faintly. The birch trees leaned over the roof of the gazebo, as if they were stroking the green shingles, like a cautious warning of fiercer storms to come later in the autumn.

  "Do you know what I was reading about in the newspaper?" said Runi quietly.

  "No."

  "I was reading about a bunch of teenagers who had a party in the room one of them lived in. You know, the kind of thing they're always doing. Perfectly innocent. Maybe a beer or two."

  "And?" I tried to think about my own youth. I never went to a party in anyone's room. Henry and I would walk down the street by ourselves. He was very shy.

  "One of them had a new girlfriend. But then one of the others began to . .. you know. Chat her up. And then the first boy got so angry that he took a shotgun and shot her in the face. She died instantly."

  "I read about that. Why are you talking about it now?"

  "I was thinking about Andreas. And about everything that could happen!"

  "But surely you don't think anyone has shot him, do you? You don't believe that, do you?"

  She started crying again. "No. But no matter how terrible it might be, I'd rather know about it than go around with this uncertainty. What did I do wrong, Irma?"

  At this point I could have rattled off a whole long list of things, but it was too late for that.

  "I think you should go home and go to bed," I said firmly.

  "Go to bed?" She looked at me in disbelief. "Why should I go to bed?"

  "You look worn out. It would do you good to get some rest. And you should stay near the phone. In case he calls."

  "In case he calls," she repeated, like a faint echo.

  "Or the police. When they find him."

  "I can't bear to be alone in the house. I'm going out of my mind."

  Good Lord! She came here to ask if she could stay with me, I thought. To stay in my house! I got up and moved nervously around the room.

  "What is it, Irma? You look really upset."

  "No, well, I just feel so uneasy. When you tell me all these things. And I'm not feeling good, either. I really should be in bed."

  Runi got to her feet. She looked different. I waited to hear what would come next.

  "Okay, I'm going," she sounded bitter and she looked dumbfounded, hurt beyond words. I stayed where I was, giving her a guilty look.

  "I don't understand you," she went on. "I've never understood you."

  "There's not much to understand," I snapped.

  Something started tightening inside me. I could feel it quite distinctly. I was moving away, towards somewhere safe where she wouldn't be able to reach me.

  "Aren't we friends any more?" She gave me a searching look.

  "There's so much you don't know," I said.

  "But you never tell me anything."

  "It's not worth hearing. I am best off alone."

  She pulled on her coat. Picked up her handbag from the chair. Stood there for a moment, wavering. Her eyes filled with tears.

  "When Henry left you, I tried to give you support. You weren't so high and mighty in those days. Have you forgotten that, Irma? And that time when you were sick. I've tried, at any rate. Just go to bed. I won't bother you any more."

  She made for the front door. I could have cried, I was so relieved to get her out of the house. At the door she stopped and gave me a quizzical look.

  "What's that noise?"

  "What noise?"

  "Something in the cellar. Can't you hear it?"

  "No, I hear . . ."

  "Hush. Be quiet."

  "Oh. That."

  I glanced over my shoulder, towards the trap door to the cellar. And told her, as I realised what it must be.

  "It's the boiler. It clicks like that when it's on."

  "Goodbye, Irma."

  I said nothing, just stared at her, thinking: Go now, Runi. Leave me in peace. As soon as the door closed, I turned the key in the lock. I stood there for a long time, leaning against a chest of drawers. When I raised my head, I saw my face in the mirror. Perfectly composed.

  "My name is Irma," I said aloud. "And this is my house."

  I went down to the cellar and sat on the steps. I had the lantern in my hand. It's beautiful, I thought, the tiny flame and the light flickering across his face. Andreas opened his eyes. He didn't look scared. He just lay there, waiting. Then he caught sight of the lantern. I held it in front of his eyes. He frowned.

  "Now you're making me very happy. I'm going to read to you from the newspaper. There's something I want you to hear."

  I smiled as I spoke. I liked the fact that he had to lie there and couldn't escape. That he had to listen to me. A man had to lie still and listen to Irma Funder and everything she had to say. A handsome man. One of those who thought everything in life was for him, the immortal type. You have to understand that this means a lot to a woman like me. I was making the rules now. Imposing them on him. It feels good to make the decisions.

  "Listen to this. I can't understand things like this, I can't understand these kinds of people." And then I read aloud: " 'The Central Hospital today reported a story about a woman who contacted the casualty department on September 1 with her infant son.'"

  Andreas looked as if he were bored, or maybe asleep. But I knew that he was listening, I could see it in his face, and the hours dragged down there in the cellar. He had to take what little he could get.

  "'The child was examined, and the doctor determined that he was unharmed. The mother went home, reassured.'"

  Now Andreas was breathing rapidly and calmly, almost like a little child.

  "'Later the same night the woman telephoned the hospital. She had found her baby dead in his cot.'"

  Andreas opened his eyes.

  "'When asked whether the child had suffered any blows or a fall, the woman reported that earlier that day she had been attacked by two young men while taking a walk along the shore at Furulund. The men had stolen her handbag. The child, a four-month-old boy, fell out of the pram during the affray and had hit his head. She could . . .'"

  A gasp came from Andreas' lips. The eyes staring at me were like two black wells of terror. I looked at him in surprise, couldn't understand why he was so affected. He actually seemed frightened by the story. As if something so monstrous had actually made an impression on him. I thought: There's hope!

  "'She reported that the child cried normally at first, but in the following hours, he seemed to sleep more than usual. The police have now instigated an intense search for the two men who may indirectly have caused the child's death. The Medical Examiner will perform an autopsy, which is standard procedure after a cot death – but the examination is expected to reveal whether the child may have died from head injuries as a result of the fall.'"