Never End

by Ake Edwardson

  'Codswallop.'

  'It would do you good to go to one of those places now and again, Erik.'

  'What would do me good just now is a Corps,' said Winter, squinting up at the sun.

  'Shall I get you one from your shirt pocket?'

  'There aren't any there. I've given up.'

  'That was rash of you.'

  'They don't import them any more,' Winter said.

  'There are other brands.'

  'So I'm told.'

  'Think about what your job entails.' Vennerhag made as if to protect himself. 'You don't want to be turning violent again and trying to strangle somebody or anything like that.'

  It wouldn't have been the first time.

  Winter heaved himself up onto the side of the pool.

  'A place that was in business five years ago.'

  'Hmm.'

  'At least five years ago.'

  'Why an illegal club? Have you checked out the rest of the pleasure places in town? The legal ones?'

  'We are doing.'

  'Have you brought the photos you were going on about?'

  'Yes.'

  'Can I see them?'

  'All in good time.'

  'Oh yes?'

  'What have you got to say, Benny?'

  'About unlicensed clubs five years ago?'

  'That are still in business.'

  'I don't think there are any.'

  'Think? Or know?'

  'Think. I think,' Vennerhag said, with a little laugh. He turned to look at Winter. 'I know what this is all about. I'm keen to help.'

  'Good for you, Benny.'

  'Murder isn't my field, you know.'

  'I know.'

  'Nor is rape.'

  'Glad to hear it.'

  'If we can put that bastard behind bars I'll be the first to start clapping.'

  'We'll be the ones to put him behind bars. You're not involved in that.'

  'I did say we.'

  'I'll go and get the pictures,' said Winter.

  'Nice wall,' said Vennerhag.

  Winter nodded.

  'The girls look nice. This is terrible.' He looked at Winter. 'Fucking terrible.'

  Winter nodded again.

  'I've never seen this place before,' said Vennerhag. 'It's unusual to have exposed brickwork like that indoors.'

  'Find out what your business contacts have to say.'

  'I'll need these photos for that.'

  'You have them in your hand.'

  'Are these my copies, then?'

  'Yes.'

  'Is that allowed?'

  'Who cares?'

  'OK,' said Vennerhag, putting the photographs down on the grass.

  'How long will you need?' Winter asked.

  'No idea. But if this place is in town, somebody ought to recognise it.'

  'Good.'

  'That wall is quite eye-catching.'

  Winter nodded.

  Vennerhag stood up and went back to his lounger. Winter went back to his chair as well, draining the last of his beer on the way.

  'Another?'

  Winter shook his head.

  'A cigarillo?' asked Vennerhag, lighting a Mercator and grinning through the smoke.

  Winter shook his head. Then leaned forward, took hold of the packet in Vennerhag's hand and picked up the lighter from the ground next to Vennerhag's big, pale left foot.

  'You're shaking,' said Vennerhag as Winter lit the cigarillo.

  He inhaled and savoured it.

  'You're just as bad as us others,' said Vennerhag.

  'You mean we. Not us.'

  'Oh, it's we now, is it? It was different a minute ago.'

  Winter said nothing, simply inhaled and made the most of the effects of the poison. Just this one, to remind me of how awful it is to be addicted.

  Vennerhag watched him.

  'Have the activities of unlicensed clubs changed over the last few years?' Winter asked after a while.

  'Dunno. Not my field, like I said.'

  Winter took another puff, and watched the smoke climb up towards the blue sky. Not a cloud in sight, not a single one. The sun was more white than yellow. Later it would turn orange, and the sky as well. That meant that the sun would rise again tomorrow and the sky would be blue again and there wouldn't be a cloud in sight.

  'What do you mean by that, anyway?' said Vennerhag, turning to look at Winter again.

  'Just something that crossed my mind. If they've taken over from the sex clubs, for instance.'

  'Well, that's even further from my—'

  'Not your field. Yes, I know.'

  'Could be, though.'

  'Hmm.'

  Vennerhag puffed at his Mercator.

  'Now that you mention it, it occurs to me there might well have been a few places with ... er ... that sort of menu over the last few years.'

  'Menu? You mean sex?'

  'I mean adult entertainment.'

  'I see.'

  'A few places, mebbe. I'll have to check.'

  'I'll phone you this afternoon.'

  'Tonight. Make it tonight.'

  Vennerhag reached for the photographs again and took another look, one at a time.

  'So, you reckon this is some little club, operating on the sly, is that it?'

  'I reckon that's it, yes.'

  'In that case, what were these little girls doing there?'

  'Working.'

  'Working? You've got a worse imagination than me, Erik.'

  'Imagination's not your field, Benny.'

  'You're a pessimistic bastard.' He looked back at the photographs, then at Winter. 'As for me, I think the best of everybody.'

  'Maybe those girls did as well,' said Winter, nodding at the photographs in Vennerhag's right hand.

  'And that's why they were working at an illegal club with extra-illegal activities in the form of ... extra services.'

  'I don't know.'

  'You're on the wrong track.'

  'Then help me to get back onto the right one,' said Winter, standing up and putting his shirt back on.

  19

  Halders met the boy at a location chosen by the boy himself. There was a splash of sun across the rocks. The sails out there where white. The sea beyond the harbour sunk down into blackness. Halders felt as if he were operating on automatic pilot. He'd hugged his children when they went to school, and waved to them from the car. Magda had played hopscotch, just the once, then disappeared into the school building.

  Mattias squinted up at the sun. Halders aped him.

  'Day after day,' he said.

  Mattias watched a yacht heading for the open sea, and turned to Halders.

  'A record summer,' he said. 'A fantastic summer.'

  Halders raised the peak of his cap a whisker and scratched his forehead, which was roasting despite the protection.

  'What are you making of all this?' Halders asked.

  'The summer, you mean? I'm working, but I told you that.'

  'Apart from that.'

  'Nothing.'

  'But it's a fantastic summer.'

  'Not as far as I'm concerned.'

  'Fed up?'

  'Eh?'

  'Are you feeling depressed, Mattias?'

  'What are you on about?'

  'You seem depressed.'

  'You don't seem all that cheerful yourself.'

  'That's true.'

  'Are you?'

  'No.'

  'Well then.'

  'Have you spoken to her again?' Halders asked.

  'Not since the last time,' said Mattias, and seemed to be smiling at his answer.

  'You know what I'm getting at.'

  'Not since the rape,' Mattias said. 'Not with him there.'

  'Him? Who are you talking about?'

  'You mean you don't know?'

  'Tell me. Who?'

  'Her father,' Mattias said, gazing out at the horizon where several ships were falling over the edge.

  'I gather you don't like him.'

  The bo
y mumbled something, and stared out to sea. His nose was peeling. His hair is like straw, Halders thought. There was a time one summer when my hair was like that. He ran his hand over what remained of his close-cropped hair. He could see Jeanette Bielke's father in his mind's eye. Kurt Bielke. A comfortable chair on the verandah. Jeanette was never there. Jeanette was usually in her room, occasionally in the garden. Never on the verandah.

  'I didn't hear what you said.'

  'It's true that I don't like him,' Mattias said.

  'Why not?'

  'Ask Jeanette.'

  'I'm asking you.'

  The boy shrugged.

  'I'm asking you,' Halders said again.

  'Does it matter?'

  'Yes.'

  'So you think he's a bucket of shit too, eh?'

  'Tell me why you think he's a bucket of shit.'

  'I don't just think.'

  'Tell me, Mattias.'

  'Ask Jeanette. Again.'

  'Why do you keep saying that I should ask Jeanette?'

  'Don't you see?'

  'What are you trying to tell me, Mattias?'

  The boy didn't reply. The sea looked even blacker. Halders closed his eyes.

  'You were furious the last time you spoke to Jeanette,' he said.

  'You don't say.'

  'She'd finished with you.'

  'So what?'

  'So, you were furious with her because she'd dumped you.'

  'You don't say.'

  Halders grabbed the boy by his shirt collar.

  'Don't try that crap with me, young man.'

  'For Christ's sake ...'

  'I'll throw you into the sea, you little shit, if you don't help us with this case.'

  'Help you how?'

  Halders grabbed his collar more tightly. The boy could see the fury in his eyes.

  'Jesus Christ, you're out of your mi—'

  Halders tightened his grip even more, then suddenly let go and walked away.

  Benny Vennerhag phoned that night. Elsa was asleep. Winter was out on the balcony. Angela watched him with a smile that could have been a bit on the sarcastic side. Winter was savouring the scent of tropical fruit and leather from the cigar he had in his hand, a Corona he'd bought along with several others on his way home an hour ago.

  He came in from the balcony.

  'I have a few names,' Vennerhag said.

  'Let's hear them.'

  Vennerhag named a couple of clubs.

  'We've already been to those,' said Winter. 'There's no wall in either of them like the one in the photos.'

  'That's the best I can do at the moment.'

  'Well, thanks for nothing, in that case.'

  'There's no need to be like that.'

  'I thought you were more abreast of things than this, Benny.'

  'Allow me to say the same about you.'

  'I'm looking forward to our next little chat,' Winter said.

  Vennerhag hung up without further comment. Angela shouted from the kitchen. He took a beer from the fridge: 'I think I'll shackle myself to the computer for a while.'

  'I thought we could sit on the balcony for a few minutes,' she said.

  'OK.'

  The park was deserted. The sky was vast. The traffic down below seemed like sparks in all the blue. Sounds floated in on the wind. Winter lit his cigar again.

  'So, you had no willpower?'

  'I'm afraid not.'

  'You don't seem unduly put out.'

  'I've realised that I can't concentrate without nicotine.'

  'So you feel better already.'

  'Yes. Ideas are flowing.'

  'You're imagining it.'

  Winter inhaled again. The smoke drifted away.

  'Could be. But I can't afford to risk it. This case. The girls.' He took another drag. 'There's somebody out there.' He gestured with the cigar. 'Down there.'

  'There's always somebody out there,' Angela said. 'Always will be.'

  'And I'll always be here,' he said with a smile. 'The story of my life. Somebody out there, and me in here.' He contemplated his cigar. 'And then I'll be on my way to get him.' He looked at her. 'A bit melodramatic, don't you think?'

  'Before I met you I didn't used to think the police analysed themselves like that,' Angela said, taking a sip of beer. 'That they tried to ... define their role.'

  'Do you mean to say that you actually considered the way police officers' minds work before you met me?'

  'No.' She took another sip. 'I suppose I thought they didn't think at all.'

  'And then the penny dropped.'

  'And then I found that my suspicions were confirmed!'

  'And how did that feel?'

  'Frightening.'

  'Well, now you know.'

  She nodded.

  'That's why this is necessary,' he said, holding up his cigar. 'Something to help us summon up the little concentration we're still capable of calling on.'