When the Devil Holds the Candle

by Karin Fossum

  Then he started to cry.

  Listen to me! Again and again I went down to the cellar. Day after day. I asked him if he needed anything. Changed the light bulb, tucked in the blanket. He started to smell. His face looked sunken and his lips were almost grey. I felt instantly happy every time I caught sight of his head with the dark curls. Knowing that he was still there, making no noise. I didn't think about the future. Or about the past, either, and that was something new for me. I was used to worrying about the next day and everything that might happen. But not any more. I was living in the moment. Finally, a sort of peace.

  CHAPTER 16

  September 4.

  Three nights had passed. Zipp opened the phone book to the letter F. How easy this is, he thought. Open the phone book, look for the name, and make the call. Just like that, I'm there, right in her ear. Threatening and pestering.

  The phone rang and rang. He clutched the receiver in his hand.

  "This is Zipp!" he cried when she answered. "I want to speak to Andreas."

  There was a moment's silence. He could hear a faint rustling sound and someone breathing.

  "Andreas is not available."

  Her voice was rough. What did she mean by that? Not available? She was sitting on the truth with that fucking big arse of hers, like the bitch that she was. He was so distraught that his knees started to give way. That shitty feeling when you knew that someone was lying through their teeth or, right in your ear, to be precise. So easily, so utterly without shame. His own fury was roaring inside his head.

  "I know he's there. Damn you!"

  "You don't know any such thing."

  Her voice was calm. The polar opposite of his own pounding heart.

  "His cap is lying on your kitchen counter."

  Silence again. That gave her something to think about! He stood there fidgeting, trying to compose himself.

  "You should clean up better after yourself," he snapped.

  "I'm doing just fine. But have you cleaned up after yourself?"

  He listened to that composed voice, trying to decipher what she was thinking. How could she be so calm?

  "Yes," he replied. "I just need Andreas."

  "What about the baby?"

  "I don't have a baby!" he shouted. "And I don't feel like playing your games. I just want Andreas!"

  "Andreas is crying," she whispered. "He's crying for the baby."

  He felt a sudden stab of terror.

  "The baby at Furulund. It's dead now."

  Zipp stood and stared at the phone book. Funder, Furnes, Fyken. What was she talking about? He stared at the newspaper on the table, felt sure she must be bluffing.

  "A head injury," she said softly. "Infants are so fragile. If you don't stop bothering me, I'll call the police and tell them that you killed him. A little boy, only four months old. They're looking for you.

  "I tried to stop the pram!" he yelled.

  A tiny click, and the line went dead. Outside the window he could see the spire of the church. A crack in the blue sky. He was still shaking. A tiny baby. He had to look through the newspapers, make sure that she was lying. She was just testing him. He would read the papers himself later. First he had to try to relax. He stumbled downstairs, lay on the sofa, closed his eyes and fell asleep. Two hours later he woke up. His mother was calling from the top of the stairs.

  "Telephone! The police. They want you to go down to the station."

  He was shaking so hard that he had to use both hands to put a five-kroner coin into the parking meter. The news about the baby was in Aftenposten, for God's sake. The woman was right! Could the attack come under the heading of manslaughter? It was the mother who had failed to set the brake properly. Damn it! He felt the ground shifting under his feet, as if he were walking through a bog. A trickle of sweat ran from his temple, and he couldn't move his eyes the way he wanted to. They were staring, like two balls of glass, saying: Guilty, guilty, guilty! He was sniffling as he fought with the fucking parking meter, that damned money hog, this damned world he'd been thrown into. Had he asked for this? Was anyone happy that he was here? He pressed his shoulders back and thought: Pull yourself together, man. They just want to talk about Andreas.

  As he walked to the front entrance, he repeated to himself: I don't remember, I don't remember. If they realised that he was lying, or hiding something, they would have to prove it. He entered the reception area and gave his name at the desk. Had to stand there, alone, and wait. A man came towards him, wearing a uniform. Not the young guy with the curls this time. This was going to be worse. He straightened up, wanting to meet the situation with confidence, only to discover that the man was a head taller than he was. He was struck by the feeling that his case was hopeless, it would be impossible to fool this monolith of a man. The aura of friendliness surrounding him was just a veneer. It didn't for one second hide what he was truly made of. Zipp was reminded first of iron and steel, then oiled wood and finally lead crystal as he met the man's grey eyes. He felt a prod on his shoulder. It directed him to the lift, into a corner.

  "Konrad Sejer."

  The voice was deep, threatening. This was undoubtedly one of the bosses. Why? The office surprised him. It looked like any other office, with a child's drawings, photographs, thank-you cards, things like that. A good chair. View of the river. He could see the sight-seeing boat gliding past, must be one of the last tours of the season.

  "Zipp," Sejer said. "I'm going to order some coffee. Do you drink coffee?"

  "Jesus, yes."

  It hadn't got off to a good start. His voice wavered. I don't remember, I don't remember. Sejer left the room. Zipp wondered what the consequences would be if he lied. This was just a conversation, wasn't it? He thought of what his mother had said: "I know you". There was something about this man that gave him the same feeling. He must try to maintain a friendly tone. As long as the tone remained friendly, he was safe. Sejer came back with a coffee pot and two Styrofoam cups.

  "Good of you to come," he said. As if Zipp had had a choice. The grey man knew this, he was just playing a game. Suddenly he seemed terribly dangerous. Dejection swamped him. A dull fear that he wasn't going to get out of this in one piece.

  "Sure. But I don't understand what I'm doing here," he stammered. "I told you everything about that night."

  The man shot him a glance that felt like a blast in his eyes.

  "It's more serious now," Sejer said curtly. "Before, it was one day, now it's three; that's a whole different story."

  Zipp nodded mutely.

  "For your sake, I hope we find Andreas," Sejer went on. He watched the stream of burning hot coffee trickling into the white cup.

  For your sake? What the hell did he mean by that? Zipp was about to ask that very question. What the hell do you mean by that? Wasn't there some sort of insinuation in the question? That if they didn't find him . . .

  "He's your best friend, right?"

  "Yes he is." Zipp said. Now he felt as if it were being used against him, the fact that they were friends, that Andreas was his best pal. Stay calm, he told himself, just answer the questions.

  "I'm going to be honest with you," Sejer said. "I'm an old-fashioned kind of man." He gave a winning smile, which made Zipp think that either he really was nice or he was one hell of an actor. He decided the latter was more likely. "One of my officers, Jacob Skarre, has already talked to you. I'll get directly to the point. In his report, he made it clear that during the course of your conversation he had the strong impression that you weren't telling the truth. That's why you're here. Do you understand?"

  Zipp shrugged. Calm, stay calm. Breathe from your stomach.

  "The thing is, I've had experience before with Officer Skarre's intuition. And I have no choice but to take it seriously."

  Zipp stretched out his legs and laid one foot over the other.

  "What I've been thinking, just as a possibility," Sejer said, "was that the two of you did something together that evening that may have had an unexpec
ted outcome. Something you've decided not to tell us, because you're afraid of the consequences."

  Zipp was rolling some spit around in his mouth. Finally the deep flow of words stopped. He was apparently waiting for an answer.

  "No objections?" he said at last.

  "We were in a bar," Zipp said.

  "So tell me in your own words all that happened that night," said Sejer. He was now sitting in his chair.

  "My own words?" Zipp stammered.

  "What you did, what you talked about. Maybe that will give me some idea of what's going on."

  Did he know more than he was saying? Had the woman with the pram described them down to the last detail?

  "Sorry." Zipp hesitated as he searched for what the inspector called "his own words".

  "You don't have to feel embarrassed. This conversation stays in this room. You're not being taped or recorded. You can speak freely."

  Such phrases the man used! Now he was trying to give the impression that he was an ally, but he wasn't, was he?

  Zipp straightened his shoulders. "Well, there's not much to tell. We were in a bar having a beer. After that we went to my house. Watched a video. Wandered round town for a while. Andreas went home to bed. That's all."

  Sejer nodded encouragement. Zipp started to believe that this man wasn't here to ask him about the baby after all. He was indeed concerned about Andreas, and nothing else. Zipp tried not to take a defensive position.

  "But he didn't go home to bed," Sejer said, smiling. A new kind of smile: broad and open.

  Zipp had to smile at his own stupidity. But it was entirely innocent, it had just slipped out, apparently to his advantage, judging by the man's response.

  "No, of course not. But that's what he said."

  "Exactly. He had to get up early?"

  "At 8.00."

  Sejer drank some coffee. "What film did you watch?"

  Did that make any difference? Did he think they watched a film that might have steered them into trouble?

  "Blade Runner" he mumbled, a bit reluctantly because he didn't want to show any kind of enthusiasm. Sejer noticed his slight irritation.

  "I saw that one a long time ago," he said. "I didn't much like it. But then, as I said, I'm old-fashioned."

  Zipp relaxed. "Andreas insisted on watching it. Even though he's seen it hundreds of times. Or something like that."

  "Is that right? Hundreds of times? Were you bored?"

  "I'm often bored."

  "Why's that?"

  "I don't have a job."

  "So you wait all day for Andreas, until you can have some company?"

  "He usually calls after dinner."

  "Did you make any arrangements to meet again when you said goodbye?"

  "No, we didn't have . . ."

  He checked himself. The words had come pouring out of him. I don't remember, I don't remember. He was floating away like a scrap of paper on the rushing stream that was this man.

  "You didn't have what?"

  "He met someone." The words just popped out.

  "Ah! He met someone?"

  Zipp didn't look up, but if he had, he would have seen Sejer's wry smile.

  "Who, Zipp?"

  "I didn't know them."

  He stifled a silent curse. Who the hell had put that reply into his mouth? Now he would be asked why he hadn't told this to the other officer when he came to his house. Okay, so he'd forgotten about it. That wasn't so bad. This man would have to prove he was lying. It wasn't enough that the air was thick with lies. Though it was.

  "Excellent that you remembered that," said Sejer with satisfaction. "That's what I always say. Things come back to you more clearly over time. And you're in a difficult situation, after all. Your best friend is missing, and you're worried about him."

  In his mind Zipp pictured Andreas trapped somewhere. Alone in the dark. That white house. He didn't understand it. A lump was forming in his throat and tears came to his eyes. But maybe that was to his advantage. Showing how worried he was.

  "Two guys," he said, with his eyes lowered. "They came over to us in the square."

  "Two men?"

  "Yes."

  "Young men?"

  "Older than us. Thirty, maybe."

  "Have you ever seen them before?"

  "No."

  "But Andreas knew them?"

  "It looked like it."

  A long pause. Way too long. Either he was thinking over this information, this utter lie, or he was amused by these wild fantasies. What if Andreas showed up and told his own version? Am I assuming that he's never going to show up? Have I written him off? No, I'm a good friend!

  "All right. Tell me more."

  "Tell you what?"

  He was on thin ice now, suspended precariously over the cold deep. Images flew past his eyes: Andreas' burning cheeks, the baby with the toothless gums.

  "We sat on a bench. They were standing near the fountain. Andreas said he had to take off. And then they left. I don't know where they went. I was actually a bit pissed off."

  Then Zipp shut up. His coffee cup was still untouched. He would have taken a sip, but he didn't trust his hands. Sejer had no such problem. He took sip after sip, without making a sound. Zipp's last words hung in the room: "I was actually a bit pissed off." He had made it up, but there was truth in the lie. If that had really happened, if they had been sitting on the bench and Andreas had suddenly taken off, he really would have been irritated. He reached this conclusion with a certain pride.

  "But Andreas – didn't he spend all his time with you?

  Zipp squirmed. "I thought so."

  "Thornegata," said Sejer suddenly.

  Zipp glanced up.

  "You mentioned to Andreas' mother when she called that you said goodbye to each other on Thornegata."

  "I don't remember," he said swiftly.

  "I mention it because there must be some reason why you would have thought of that particular street. You remembered wrong, of course, we've already ascertained that, but for some reason your brain still made that choice. Maybe you were in the vicinity of Thornegata sometime that evening?"

  Zipp felt bewildered.

  "It just slipped out. A short circuit," he said.

  "It happens," Sejer conceded.

  He got up and opened the window. The September air swept in.

  "What do you think has happened?" Sejer said. He was sitting down now.