“My fingers are anything but practical,” he tried to joke. The woman walked around the room. She was barefoot;
there was a narrow ring on one of her toes. She threw her hair back; strange sounds came from her.
“To lose a child,” she chanted. “To lose a beloved child.”
“Was she your only daughter?” asked the policeman.
“Yes,” answered Mats Andersson. “We also have a son. He lives in Australia. Of course, he’s coming home for the funeral. Otherwise, he doesn’t come home very often. Excuse me; I’m just going to get something to clean up the mess.”
“The funeral, yes… you’ve received her back home, I’ve heard.”
The woman stopped pacing.
“In a box! Like a piece of freight!”
She stood in front of Justine; she fell on her knees onto the white shag rug. Let her head rest in Justine’s lap; she was warm and shaking. She turned her face to Justine’s legs and suddenly bit down hard. Justine gasped; she slapped her hand on her mouth and stared at the policeman. He was there right away, lifted up Marianne Andersson and helped her to an armchair.
“How are you, Marianne?” he asked. “How are you?”
Her narrow eyes shone. She opened her lips, her mouth, but shut them again.
Her husband came back with a rag. Clumsily, he began to wipe up the spilled coffee.
Marianne Andersson said, in a completely normal voice, “Now, if we may, we would like to ask a few questions to the person who was the last one to see our daughter alive.”
“Yes, Justine Dalvik, here,” said the policeman.
“I really wasn’t the last person to see her alive. That one is in Kuala Lumpur, the person who… killed her. He was the last one.”
The woman turned to her.
“Don’t play with words, please. It’s difficult enough as it is.”
“Please listen,” said the policeman. “We are all deeply affected by what has happened. Our nerves are on edge. Justine Dalvik shared a room with your daughter. She has testified that she was in the shower when it happened.”
“May I ask any question I want?” asked the woman.
“Yes?”
“There’s a few things that I have been wondering about.”
“Ask away.”
“When you came out of the shower… were you naked then?”
“No… I had a bath towel around me.”
“Was that man just standing there? Didn’t you hear him come in?”
“No, I was in the shower, like I said.”
“He didn’t hear you in the shower?”
“I don’t know… Maybe he thought I was alone in the room. He heard the shower certainly. Maybe he thought he could rob the place while I was in there.”
“And then he discovered that someone else was there?”
“Yes.”
The questions came quickly and jarringly.
“Didn’t my daughter try to stop him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, but what do you think?”
“No… I think he caught her by surprise. They said there were no traces of a fight.”
“But wouldn’t he have fled the moment he saw someone else in the room?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No, maybe she’d gone out for a minute and when she came back, he was there; maybe she had to go get something.”
“You didn’t try to defend her?”
“It was too late! It had already happened!”
“So what did you do?”
Her head was spinning. She looked at the policeman; he nodded encouragingly.
“What I did… What would you have done?”
“I would have killed him. I would have strangled him with my bare hands. I would have cut him to pieces with my bare fingers…”
“Marianne,” said Mats Andersson. “Marianne…”
”He was dangerous,” whispered Justine. “If he killed one person, he might kill another.”
“So what did you do?”
“I ran back into the shower and locked the door.”
“Why didn’t you run out of the room instead? Out to get help? It all appears very strange to me.”
“I don’t know. A reflex.”
“If she could have reached a hospital! If she could have gotten there in time!”
“It was too late already!”
“How do you know? How many dead people have you seen? How can you be so sure?”
She gripped the coffee cup but her hands were shaking so strongly that she was not able to lift it.
“May I… ask something?” said her father. “How was she that day? What was her mood? Was she happy or sad… can you…?”
“None of us were what you could call happy.”
“You have to remember what happened in the jungle,” said Hans Nästman. “The group had to break camp suddenly, one of the leaders had disappeared, probably met with an accident, most likely dead.”
“They never found him then?”
“No. When things disappear in the jungle, they tend to be lost forever.”
“She was a wandering soul, our girl. I always felt on tenterhooks whenever she was out and about on one of her trips. That something would happen to her. Sooner or later, I would think, sooner or later… but you can’t forbid them.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Do you have any children, Commissioner?”
“Yes, two boys, eighteen and twenty.”
“It’s easier with boys.”
“Don’t say that.”
The woman got up. She went over to the altar and lit the candles.
“You can go now, if you want,” she said hoarsely. “Now I know what she looks like, that person who shared a room with Martina. I don’t want to know any more. It’s enough.”
“What a strange and unpleasant woman,” said Hans Nästman, when they returned to the car. “In my job, you meet a number of bizarre people. But someone like Marianne Andersson…”
“Sorrow can affect you.”
“Whatever.”
She put the seatbelt on.
“What did she do to you?”
“Nothing.”
“She hurt you. I saw it. She bit you, didn’t she?” “No.”
“Justine, listen to me. You have to get a vaccination against lockjaw. Human bites are the most dangerous kind.” “I’m already vaccinated.”
“Of course, of course. When you’ve traveled so far.” “We got all kinds of vaccinations. Nathan, too. But you can’t vaccinate against everything.”
“That’s a wise saying.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I saw that she bit you, Justine.”
She sighed.
“I have the feeling you let her.”
“OK, OK, maybe I deserved it. Maybe I should have protected her daughter somehow.”
“Do you feel that way yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s the kind of thing a psychiatrist needs to sort out. Please, can you just drive me home now? This has been an awful day.”
Hans Nästman kept in touch with her.
“I imagine you want to know what’s going on in Kuala Lumpur. And whether they ever find Nathan Gendser some day. But the man they caught for hotel burglary will only confess to burglary. He also insists that he never set foot in that hotel. Nothing can be proven. There are many fingerprints on the knife, but not his. He could have been wearing gloves… but it really is fairly hot in that country.”
She didn’t know what to say to him.
“I imagine they can put him in prison anyway if he doesn’t have an air-tight alibi. A poverty-striken fellow with no money.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it that much,” said Justine. “I would prefer to forget about the whole thing.”
Chapter TWO
During the fall and winter, they left her alone.
She didn’t forget, however. Na
than kept coming to her. During the night, he would come in her dreams; during the day, he moved behind her, so close that she could almost feel his breath, but when she turned around, he slipped away into a corner and disappeared.
Yes, Nathan came to her, but less and less often.
Then all of this with Hans Peter. That winter day of mild temperatures and the shine of rain on the window, when they had made love to each other for the first time, she knew he had to go, but she didn’t want him to.
He said he had to go to work at his hotel.
They were in her kitchen. He embraced her, sat her on his lap.
“So strange… we don’t really know each other… but still.”
She threw her arms around him and burrowed her face into his neck.
“We know each other a little bit.”
“Yeah…”
“I want to… again,” she whispered.
“Just a few minutes.”
“A quickie.”
She cleared the table until it was empty, leaned forward on it and lifted her dress. She had no panties on. He stood behind her, his hands running over her thighs and hips. She moved against him so he would get a hard-on; she felt him through the cloth of his pants.
At that very moment, the telephone rang.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed. “Fuck it all.”
He had taken a few steps backward, lifted the receiver and handed it to her. She shook her head, but it was too late.
“Hello?” she said tensely.
“Hello… I’d like to speak with Justine Dalvik.”
“That’s me.”
“My name is Tor Assarsson. I’m Berit’s husband. I understand that you and Berit were schoolmates.”
“Yes, that’s right. Hi.”
“I’m nervous about her. She’s disappeared.”
“She has?”
“She hasn’t been home for over twenty-four hours.”
“Uh-huh?”
Her headache started It ate itself into her forehead and when she turned, it seemed like the skin of her cranium was being pulled, as if her entire skull had shrunk.
“I’m wondering… she was going to your place. Did she show up there?”
“Yes, yes, she did. We sat and talked for a while during the evening.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention to the clock.”
“Was it late?”
“Somewhat late perhaps.”
Hans Peter was observing her. He zipped up his pants; he smiled and shook his head. Justine tried to smile back.
“I have to admit that I am really worried.”
“I understand…”
“This is not like Berit. I’m afraid that something’s happened to her. Something bad, something awful.”
“Maybe she took a trip? Maybe she just needs to be alone for a while?”
“Did she say anything like that to you?”
“She didn’t seem happy, if that’s what you mean.”
“She’s had a rough time of it lately. And maybe I wasn’t supporting her the way I should have. What did she say? What did the two of you talk about?”
“She talked about her job, that she didn’t want to move to Umeå, or wherever it was.”
“Luleå.”
“Yes, that’s probably it. She was unhappy and afraid about the future.”
“Could she have done something to herself, do you think?”
His voice was rough; she could tell he was about to break down.
“I don’t know. We really don’t know each other all that well. At least, not as grown women. I have no idea if she’s the kind of woman who would do something drastic. I just don’t know.”
“I’ve never thought of her as that type. She’s been stable and strong in all ways, in spite of difficulties. But you never know… She’d gotten to that age, I think, you know, menopause and all. I think her menopause had just started. Hormones can cause women problems, or so I’ve heard.”
“That can happen, that women sometimes have complete personality changes.”
“Though I haven’t noticed any such tendency.”
She heard Hans Peter go down the stairs. He was going soon. She noticed she didn’t want him to go. For the first time, she felt that she did not want to be alone in the house; she wanted to go with him, go anywhere, just get into the car and drive.
“What did she say when she left?”
“When she left? Yes… she said she was going to walk up to Sandviksvägen and take the bus, I believe. But we had been drinking quite a bit… I don’t really remember what she said.”
“Was she drunk?”
“Yes, pretty drunk.”
“Do you think she might have fallen down somewhere?”
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t someone have found her by now, if that were the case?”
“Why didn’t she take a taxi? She should have taken a taxi.”
“Maybe so.”
The man was breathing heavily.
“I’ll have to call the police. There’s nothing else left to do. Then I’ll go out and look for her. I’ll come around your place, too.”
“I don’t think I’ll be home.”
“Hmm. OK, here’s our number and the number of my cell phone. If you need to reach me. If you remember something that you haven’t mentioned.”
He had put on his jacket.
“Well, we didn’t have the chance for that lovely moment,” he said as he hugged her. “I’m going to have the image of your beautiful ass in my head tonight. I’m going to have a hard-on all night.”
“Oh, do you really have to leave?”
“Yes.”
“It’s so stupid that I forgot to disconnect the phone. I always pull the phone out of the jack. I don’t like people calling here at all hours.”
He pushed her slightly away.
“But Justine, don’t do that! How am I supposed to reach you?”
“But you came here, didn’t you?”
“But if I can’t?”
“Well…”
“Tell you what. I’ll buy you a caller ID.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t you know? It’s a little gadget where you can look at a display and see the number of the person trying to reach you. If you don’t want to talk to Aunt Greta, you don’t have to answer.”
“I didn’t know that there were such things.”
“There are. Look, I’ve got to rush off now. I’ll call you tomorrow when I wake up. I’m already longing to call you.”
She was in the house. She was alone. She locked the doors and went through all the rooms. She washed the dishes and put things away. Then she turned out all the lights, and pulled the telephone cord out of the jack.
She stood by the kitchen window. She didn’t want to go lie down, didn’t want to close her eyes. The ache nibbled away at her brain, nibbled and ate.
She stood in the darkness and saw him come. He looked just as she thought: grey coat, white and blank face. Not even his worry was able to erase the look of an effective bureaucrat. She heard his steps on the outside stairs, then the doorbell which burrowed into the center of the house.
He waited a moment, then rang again. When nothing happened, he began to go around the house and toward the lake. She ran up the inside stairs. She saw him stand next to the edge of the ice. He took a few careful steps and then turned back. He had shrunk a bit more.
She felt incredibly sorry for him.
During the night, it began to snow. The thermometer showed a few degrees below freezing. She didn’t get undressed; she wandered around the house and kept bumping into the walls as if she were blind. She had swallowed a few pain medication pills, but the pain remained in her head, barely affected.
It was two in the morning. She plugged in the phone and dialed.
He answered right away.
“Hi, again. It’s Justine Dalvik. Sorry that I’m calling so late.”
“I don’t m
ind at all.”
“You haven’t found her?”
“No.”
“Have you… called in the police?”
“So to speak. I was there and talked to them. But they’re not doing much right now. They say that it’s not unusual that wives disappear. Many do it to punish their husbands. But I think they were just trying to calm me down.”
“I’ve been thinking a great deal. She actually talked… about your marriage.”
“She did? What did she say?”
“I got the feeling that she was a little, how should I put it, disappointed.”
“In me?”
“Yes.”
“She said that?”
“She was crying and she appeared to be depressed. She said something along the lines of not having much in common these days. What do I have left, she said, neither a job nor love, something along those lines.”
She heard him light a cigarette.
“She said that?”
“Something like that, yes.”
He was crying now, mumbling something as if he had marbles in his mouth. It seemed that he might have hung up, but she heard him clear his throat and cough. Then he was back on the line.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have called like this in the middle of the night.”
“It’s really OK,” he said. “It’s not troubling me at all, the opposite in fact.”
“I can’t sleep. I’m worried, too.”
“I was out in Hässelby earlier. I rang the doorbell, but no one was home.”
“No.”
“What am I supposed to do? What in the hell am I supposed to do?” He was beginning to scream the last words. She heard him as if he were forcing himself back to normal.
“Excuse me… but I have been so worried that I have no idea what to do.”
“I’m not surprised. Do you have any sleeping pills or anything like that? I mean, so that you can sleep tonight?”
“I usually don’t use them.”
“Maybe she did?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“No. Well then, I don’t want to trouble you any longer. I’ll call if I think of anything else. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Every time she went to lie down, it came back to her. During the day, she was able to keep it at a distance. And right afterwards, she had fallen asleep. She was no longer totally drunk, but when she came out of the shower, she sat on the edge of the bed and drank a few more glasses of wine. She felt her foot aching again. Then she dropped off to sleep.
Good Night, My Darling Page 24
