In the Darkness

by Karin Fossum

  ‘Yeah, isn’t it just?’ He turned and grinned. One eye tooth was missing. ‘Nice stuff they make at Opel. Really great to work on.’

  ‘Possibly so, but I won’t be doing it myself.’

  ‘Didn’t think so. I’ve got some spare parts, they’re included in the sale, if we go ahead, that is.’

  ‘And what’ll you get instead?’

  ‘Not quite sure, I’m very tempted by a BMW. We’ll have to see. About this famous offer of yours.’ He bent down again, and Eva saw his large bottom in the tight jeans. There was a wide strip of naked skin between his belt and his leather jacket. White and moist as bread dough. ‘I think I’ve found that oil leak here. It’s only a gasket. It’ll cost – maybe thirty or forty kroner. I’m sure to have one at home.’

  Eva didn’t answer. She kept on staring at his backside, his white skin. He had a bald patch at the back of his head. She forgot to reply. In the silence she heard the rush of the river, an even roar. That poor bus driver, she thought, he’s probably still sitting in the interview room. He’s sick of the instant coffee by now and is struggling with his missing alibi. People haven’t always got an alibi, or perhaps he had one he didn’t want to use. Perhaps he had a girlfriend, and if he said anything about her his marriage would fall apart, if it hadn’t already done so. And his neighbours would be thinking things, and his grandchildren would have to find something to say to all those snotty little faces in the playground, when the rumour began to circulate that their grandfather was suspected of killing that tart in Tordenskioldsgate. Maybe he’d got a weak heart, maybe he’d have a heart attack and die while he was being interviewed. He was the right age, fifty-seven. Or maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend at all, but only dreamt of one, and had simply been driving around to be on his own, to get away for a bit. Stopped at a roadside kiosk and had something to eat, perhaps, or wandered along the river and got a bit of fresh air. And no one believed it, because grown men who’re old enough to be grandads don’t drive round aimlessly, unless they’re perverts, or have a lover. That one about the hot-dog stand won’t wash with us, you’ll have to do better than that. So, for the last time: when did you last visit Maja Durban?

  ‘Here, the torch.’ He’d straightened up again. He pushed it into her hand. She stood shining the light down at the grass. ‘Or I can hold it and you can look.’

  ‘No,’ she stammered, ‘it’s not necessary. I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, I’ll take your word. Buying a car is a matter of trust.’

  ‘I think you ought to give it the once over. You’ve got to see just how great this is, there aren’t many blokes who keep engines the way I do. And it’s only had one previous owner. No one else is allowed to drive it either, the wife hasn’t got a licence. I’m telling you, your offer better be good. And when we’ve signed the contract, I want you to have seen all over it, I don’t want any of this coming back afterwards, complaining about this and that.’

  ‘I’m not a fool,’ she riposted. ‘As far as this car’s concerned, I think I can trust you.’

  ‘You bet you can. But women sometimes get funny ideas, that’s why I’m mentioning it. Sometimes they’ve got unpleasant things up their sleeve, in a manner of speaking.’

  The knife, she thought.

  He snorted mucus up his nose, and went on: ‘I’ve just got to make certain you can do a proper deal.’

  She trembled. Raised the torch and shone it in his face. ‘Yes I can. I’ll pay, and I’ll get the goods I’ve asked for. Don’t you think it’s wonderful, the way everything can be bought for money?’

  ‘I haven’t been offered any money yet.’

  ‘That’ll come after the AA test.’

  ‘I thought you said you trusted me.’

  ‘Only as regards the car.’

  He snorted. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

  ‘You just think about it for a bit.’

  The river sent up a surge of writhing water, gave a great swish and settled again.

  He shook his head in disbelief and ducked down over the engine again. ‘Bloody women,’ he mumbled. ‘Coming here dragging some innocent bugger out of his warm garage and into this sodding storm, just to talk a load of piss!’

  ‘Innocent?’

  Eva felt the ground sinking beneath her. It made her fade a bit, feel relaxed and strange, she had to support herself on the car, she was standing on the left, just by the rod that was propping up the bonnet.

  ‘What I mean is,’ he boomed from the depths of the engine, ‘that you were the one who wanted the car. And I turn up just like we’d agreed. Don’t see why you’re so bloody touchy.’

  ‘Touchy?’ she snapped. ‘D’you call this being touchy? I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse, I’ve seen people go completely berserk for nothing at all!’

  He twisted round and looked at her suspiciously. ‘Christ’s sake, are you schizophrenic or something?’ He bent down once more.

  Eva gasped and felt her fury gaining the upper hand. It felt like a release, it rose at terrible speed, white hot like a stream of lava, poured up through the regions of her stomach, on into her breast and out along her arms, and she gesticulated wildly in the darkness, suddenly felt that she’d struck something and heard a scraping sound. The prop holding the bonnet up had been knocked away. The heavy metal lid came down with a clang. His bottom and legs protruded from the lip, the rest of him was hidden.

  She backed away and screamed. From deep within there came some gurgling noises and a few choice oaths. Terrified, she stared at the bonnet, it must have been heavy, but it lifted a fraction, fell down again and lifted once more. Eva’s heart was pounding so hard that he must have been able to hear it. She’d ignited his rage, just as Maja had done, and now that blind fury would be directed at her, in just a second or two he’d extricate himself and attack her with all his strength, so she took a few paces forwards, fumbled down her thigh for the pocket, pushed her hand in and found the knife. She pulled it out of its sheath.

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’

  He wanted to get up, turn round, but Eva sprang to the side of the car and lay across the bonnet with all her weight. He gave a hollow-sounding scream, as if he were inside a tin. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Losing control!’ she screamed. Her voice broke.

  ‘You’re a total fucking nutcase!’

  ‘You’re the one who’s the nutcase!’

  ‘What d’you want, for God’s sake!’

  Eva caught her breath and shouted. ‘I want to know why Maja had to die!’

  It went deathly quiet. He attempted to move, but couldn’t budge a millimetre. She heard his respiration, he was breathing fast.

  ‘How the hell do you …’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’ She was still pressing down on the bonnet, he’d ceased moving now, he was gasping like an exhausted dog with his face pressed against the engine block.

  ‘I can explain all that …’ he gurgled, ‘it was an accident!’

  ‘Oh no it wasn’t!’

  ‘She had a knife, for Christ’s sake!’

  Suddenly he made a gargantuan effort and the bonnet rose, Eva slipped off and landed in the grass, but she was clutching the knife, she saw his hands, the ones that had killed Maja, saw them clench.

  ‘I’ve got one too!’

  She jumped to her feet and threw herself over the car once more, he collapsed, the first stab got him in the side, and the knife slipped in fairly easily as into a fresh loaf. The bonnet was holding him like a mouse in a trap. She withdrew the knife, something warm gushed over her glove, but he didn’t cry out, just a small, amazed groan. He was getting ready for another effort and wrenched one arm free, when the second stab penetrated the small of his back, she felt the blade meeting resistance, as if she’d struck bone, she had to yank hard to get it out again, and just then his knees buckled. He sank part of the way to the ground but still hung there and now she couldn’t stop, because he was still moving and she had to silence him, prevent him from ma
king that awful groaning. After a while she worked the knife rhythmically, she thrust and thrust, stabbing him in the back and sides and sometimes hitting the metal of the car, the grille, the fender, until she realised at last that he was no longer moving, but hanging there still, completely butchered, like a stuck pig on a hook.

  *

  Something frigid and raw gripped Eva with terrific force. She had fallen forward and lay on her stomach in the grass. The river rushed onward as before, completely indifferent. All was quiet. With amazement she registered a paralysis spreading slowly through her entire body, she couldn’t move a muscle, not even her fingers. She hoped someone would find them soon. The ground was wet and chilly and soon she began to feel cold.

  Chapter 31

  SHE RAISED HER head and found herself staring directly at a blue and white trainer, then further up his leg, and wondered why he hadn’t fallen. He looked ludicrous. As if he’d fallen asleep while inspecting the engine. But it was strange nothing had happened. People hadn’t come rushing up, there were no wailing sirens. Just the two of them, alone in the darkness.

  No one had seen them. No one knew where they were, maybe not even that they were together.

  She struggled to her feet, swaying slightly, and feeling sticky and wet. The distance from the car to the water might be ten or twelve metres and he wasn’t inordinately large, maybe seventy kilos. She weighed sixty, it should be possible. If he was carried by the current a bit before he was found, down towards the town, and if she moved the car, they wouldn’t locate the spot where he was killed, and where she’d certainly have left clues. She considered a while, surprised by her own clear logic, and approached the car. Carefully, she raised the bonnet and propped it up again. He remained suspended. She would have to touch him now, touch the slippery leather jacket with its large blotches of blood. Automatically closing her nostrils to any smell, she grasped his shoulders and tugged. He slid backwards and fell like a sack across her feet. She pulled them from under him. He was lying on his back now. She bent over him, and all at once she had the idea of stealing his wallet from his jacket pocket. As if that would hamper them in establishing his identity. It was risible. Then she put a hand under each of his shoulders, turned, looked down at the bank and began to haul.

  He was heavier than she’d imagined, but the grass was wet, and he slid along in short spurts, his legs akimbo. She heaved twice and rested, twice and rested, and slowly she approached the water. After a while she halted and stared down at the pale crown of his head, before continuing. At last he was resting with his face in the water. She let go of him and tentatively dipped a foot in the water. It was shallow. She took another couple of steps, almost slipping on the slimy stones, but was still able to wade. Eventually the water rose above her boots and gushed icily down over her feet. Still she went a few steps further, stopping when the water reached to just above her knees, then returned to the bank. She grasped him once more and started dragging him into the strong current, and soon he began to float and lighten. She kept moving out into the river until she felt the current pressing dangerously against her legs, then she turned him round on to his stomach. The water rocked and lapped at him, and then he began to drift. The current carried him quickly. The back of his head was a light patch on the dark water. She stood with the water almost to her thighs and watched him, as if spellbound, and then suddenly something strange happened. One of his feet rose and his head disappeared beneath the water. It almost looked as if he’d dived. A slight bubbling could be heard over the steady rush, then he was gone.

  She went on watching fixedly, expecting him to resurface, but the river flowed on and vanished into the darkness. Slowly she waded ashore, turned and had to look again. Then she went over to the car. Carefully she lowered the bonnet. She retrieved the torch and the wallet, opened the boot. It was tidy and organised inside, she caught sight of a green beaver nylon boiler suit. She pulled it on. She was still wearing gloves, she’d had them on the whole time, and now she slipped into the driver’s seat. But she jumped out again, and began searching the grass. She found the sheath just in front of the car and stuffed it into her pocket. She heard a couple of cars on the road, so she waited before switching on the lights. When they’d passed, she put the car in gear and drove slowly through the small clump of trees. She put the heater on full and turned on to the road. Her feet were like two lumps of dead meat. Perhaps they’d find him as soon as it got light. Or perhaps, she thought, he’d got caught on something and been dragged under. It had certainly looked like that. As if his clothing or perhaps an arm had snagged something that was sticking up from the bottom, a tree, for example, that had toppled and fallen into the river, or something else, anything, and maybe he’d lie there billowing with the current until his bones were scoured clean by the water and the fish.

  The car handled well, she thought, and she kept a steady speed towards the town. Each time she met an oncoming car she held her breath, as if they could see through the windscreen at what had happened. When she’d crossed the bridge, she turned on to the motorway and drove towards Hovland and the rubbish dump. She would abandon the car there. They’d find it quickly, maybe even the following day, there was no point in trying to hide it forever. But this way they’d search the dump and waste time, search through the rubbish. And perhaps he’d float a long way, perhaps right out to sea and come ashore somewhere else, in some other town, and there’d be further searches in the wrong place, and time would pass and settle like dust over everything.

  Chapter 32

  SEJER ROSE AND walked to the window.

  It was late at night. He searched for stars, but could see none, the sky was too light. At this time of year he often felt that they’d disappeared for good, that they’d left and gone to shine over another planet. The thought saddened him. Without the stars he didn’t have the same feeling of security, it was as if the earth no longer had a roof over it. And the sky simply went on and on forever.

  He shook his head at his own thoughts.

  Eva took the last cigarette out of the packet, she looked collected, almost relieved. ‘When did you know it was me?’

  He shook his head again. ‘I didn’t know. I thought possibly there might be two of you, and that you’d been paid to keep your mouth shut. I really didn’t know what you wanted with Einarsson.’ He went on staring out of the window. ‘But now I see,’ he muttered.

  Her face was calm and open, he’d never seen her like this before, despite the swollen lip and the cuts to her chin, she was beautiful.

  ‘You didn’t think I looked like a murderer?’

  ‘No one looks like a murderer.’ He sat down again.

  ‘I didn’t plan to kill him. I took the knife with me because I was scared. No one will believe that.’

  ‘Well, you must give us the chance.’

  ‘It was in self-defence,’ she said. ‘He would have killed me. You know that.’

  He made no answer. Suddenly the words sounded so strangely familiar to her ears. ‘This man who pulled you down the cellar steps, what did he look like?’

  ‘Dark, foreign. Rather slight, almost thin, but he spoke Norwegian.’

  ‘It sounds like Cordoba.’

  Eva started. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘His name’s Cordoba, Ms Durban’s husband. Jean Lucas Cordoba. Quite a name, isn’t it?’

  Eva began to laugh, with her face hidden in her hands. ‘Yes,’ she spluttered, ‘almost worth marrying just for the name, isn’t it?’ She wiped away some tears and drew on her cigarette. ‘Maja got all sorts. Policemen, too, did you know that?’

  Sejer couldn’t stop himself, a reluctant smile spread across his face. ‘Well yes, we’re no different from other people. No better and no worse. I don’t want to hear any names.’

  ‘Can they see me through the cell door?’ she asked all at once.

  ‘Yes, they can.’

  She sniffled and looked at her hands. She began using one fingernail to scrape the polish off the othe
rs.

  She had nothing more to say. She was waiting for him now, for him to do what he had to. Then she could rest and relax and just do what she was told. That was really the way she wanted it.

  *

  Markus Larsgård floundered beneath the blanket on the sofa. If it was someone he knew, it would ring for a long time. Someone who knew he was old and slow, that he kept the phone in his workroom, and would have to cross the full width of the living room on his swollen legs. If it was a stranger, he’d never get to it in time.

  Not many strangers phoned Markus Larsgård now. The occasional telesales person, the odd wrong number. Apart from that it was Eva. Finally he got himself into a sitting position; it was still ringing, so it was someone he knew. With a grunt he heaved himself up using the tabletop and got hold of his stick. He stumped across the floor thanking his lucky stars that someone could still be bothered to ring up and disturb him during his midday siesta. He limped along, struggled to get his stick to stand against the desk, but had to give up. It crashed to the floor. To his surprise he heard an unknown voice at the other end. A solicitor. Acting for Eva Marie, he said. Could he come to the station. She was in custody.

  Larsgård fumbled with the chair, he had to sit down. Perhaps it was all nonsense, one of these practical jokers phoning to annoy him, he’d read about them in the paper. But he didn’t sound like one, he was educated, almost affable in his manner. He listened and strained, asked him to repeat, trying unsuccessfully to understand what the man meant. It was obviously a misunderstanding, and they’d soon realise it. But even so, it was an awful experience for poor Eva, a terrible thing. Custody? He’d have to go immediately. Phone for a taxi.

  ‘No, we’ll send a car for you, Mr Larsgård, just sit and relax until it arrives.’

  Larsgård sat. He forgot to replace the phone. He ought to put on some clothes before the car arrived, but then he thought it didn’t really matter. Whether he was cold or not. They had got hold of Eva and locked her up. Maybe he ought to try to find something for her instead, perhaps it was cold in there. For a time he tried to get his bearings in the room, to recall where his things were. It was his home help who did the tidying. Perhaps he should take a bottle of red wine along? But maybe that wasn’t allowed. What about money? He had plenty of money in his jam jar, it seemed to be never-ending, as if it were breeding. He rejected that too, thought it unlikely there was a kiosk at the courthouse, he’d been there once, the autumn his moped had been stolen, and he couldn’t remember seeing one there. Besides, they said she was in custody, and that meant she wouldn’t be allowed out anywhere. He wanted to get up and go into the living room again, but his legs felt so feeble and strange. He had his good moments and his bad moments, he was used to that, but now he’d had a shock. He would have to sit for a while. Perhaps he ought to phone Jostein. He made another attempt, but fell back suddenly feeling faint. He often felt faint, it was caused by the hardening of the arteries at the back of his neck which prevented enough blood reaching his head, and this was because of his age, a perfectly normal situation, really, given the circumstances. But it was annoying, especially now because it wasn’t subsiding. The ceiling began to get lower. The walls, too, began to close in, from each side, it all felt so cramped, and gradually it got darker. Eva had been arrested for murder, and she’d confessed. He took a firm grip of himself and pushed hard with his legs. The last thing he felt was his sharp knees striking his brow with great force.