She fetched her coffee, sat on a rust-spotted veranda chair that the previous tenant had not thought worth taking with him. The air felt clammy, but the rain that had been threatening all afternoon had evidently changed its mind. She needed to talk to Zoran. Fought against a desire to ring. He was on duty but answered her text: he’d be in the operating theatre for the next few hours. Before he had to leave she’d managed to tell him about her conversation with Arash. Zoran wanted to know everything they had said; he really cared about the Iranian. A moment’s jealousy. She wished he would care more about her and a little less about everyone else.
One ridiculous thought led to another, one that was nothing to laugh about. Something the Iranian had said. The person who allegedly shot at him in the forest had dropped something in the stream. She had mentioned this to Roar Horvath. Though she had found no evidence of a bullet wound, it might still be that Arash was telling the truth and that there was a shell casing up there somewhere. His response was that the technicians were now finished at the crime scene, and that they had combed a large area. He didn’t say that they would not go back up there again. Made a note of what she told him and clearly had a lot else on his mind. Probably also thought that it was not her job to be conducting interviews. Or to get the accused to write down poems, be they in Iranian or Norwegian. He would make sure her information was passed on to the investigators working on the case. But what truth was to be had in the words of a psychotic man? The Iranian could well believe his own story without it having actually happened.
Only now did Jennifer find a good answer to this, and for a moment she considered calling Roar Horvath. But it was past ten, he might get the wrong idea. Instead she put on jeans and a jacket and a pair of trainers and headed out.
Not until she was down in the stairwell did she realise where it was she was going.
She stopped behind the barn. There was a No Parking sign hanging on the wall, hardly legible. She stood looking up towards the brow of the forest for some time. Her phone rang.
– Are you at work?
Sigurd’s voiced sounded odd, hectic.
– Yes. Or actually, no. I’m on my way up into the forest.
– With Zoran?
– Alone.
– This late in the evening?
He sounded worried. She liked that, that he was concerned for her safety.
– I’m actually on my way to a crime scene. Where the woman was found.
– Are you investigating this case?
– I’m not an investigator. I’m a doctor.
– Then what are you doing there?
He had always tried to look out for her.
– Take it easy, Sigge. I’m going for a stroll in the woods. I need the exercise. And it’s light, and the sun is still shining. At least behind the clouds it is. She had to laugh at the optimistic tone of voice she had adopted.
– Do you know any more about the man who died at the hospital?
– Of course. It’s my job to find out more.
– They’re saying on the news that there’s a connection to the woman who was killed.
– I heard that.
– They’ve arrested someone. What do you think?
She started up the muddy path between the fields.
– I can’t tell you what I think, Sigurd.
– That means you know something. That there is a connection.
This curiosity was something he had inherited from her. He never gave up if there was something he wanted to know. Always managed to get her to tell him things she had decided to keep to herself.
She heard the sounds of traffic in the background. – You out driving?
– Yes.
– You alone too?
– No.
– You got hold of Katja?
– We’re in Malmö.
– I see, she said, careful not to let her tone betray her. – Staying there long?
– Just one day. A few things to sort out.
Walking on through the forest, she was still thinking about the conversation. Australia was the country for Sigurd. He had that drive in him. And boldness. And her mixture of impatience and stubbornness. If she ever moved back, it might well be along with him. Him and Zoran.
It was almost pitch dark where the trees came closest to the gravel track. The cloud cover had thickened and she felt a few drops. Up by the tarn, it was lighter again. A family of ducks by the banks. A mother with four young who swam off as Jennifer approached.
The security tape was still in place, from the stone sticking out of the tarn on up to the stream. Small drops of rain soundlessly ruffled the black surface of the water. For a few seconds a silence so dense that she felt a chill pass through her. And suddenly the sensation that someone was standing somewhere in the forest behind her, following her every move.
She turned, overwhelmed by an aversion to continuing on through the trees, up to the place in the stream where the woman had been found. Saw again the head against the dark green moss, the hair waving in the flowing water, the gaping throat.
She forced herself to carry on along the indistinct footpath. This was a kind of exercise, exposing herself to her own unease, getting in touch with her own fear. She reached the point where the woman had been found. In the half-light she could see that the moss by the bank of the stream was still red. She tried to imagine the sequence of events. The blade of the knife was at least ten centimetres long. Marita Dahl was probably squatting a few metres away, emptying her bladder; there was a smell of urine on the moss the technicians had taken away with them.
She carried on up the bank of the stream where Arash had said he ran. A person with a knife behind him, face hidden by a balaclava. Turning, he saw his pursuer by a fallen tree.
She found it a little higher up the stream. It lay parallel to it, and probably so far from the crime scene that it was unlikely the technicians had been there. Arash may have been hallucinating, or lying. But if what he said was true, his pursuer had stopped by the roots of this upended fir tree and pointed a gun at him, fired, and something fell into the water.
She didn’t have a torch with her. Took out her phone, walked on a few paces, bending as she directed the light down into the running water. Turned and went back to the upended fir. Was about to jump over to the other side when her eye was caught by something glinting among the dark, algae-coated stones. She squatted down, leaned out across the water. Saw a shadow reflected in the mirrored water, next to her own. It grew larger and assumed a form, became a body, a head bending over her.
She spun round, holding the phone up in front of her, as though it might protect her.
28
They passed an amusement park where a big dipper could be glimpsed through the trees, found an empty parking space.
Again Katja tried to ring someone, still no answer.
– What now, Katja Värnholm? Sigurd asked as she put the phone away. – We’ve made it unobserved to the centre of Malmö. What is your plan? You have a mobile phone number, but the man who owns that phone doesn’t seem interested in talking to you. Shall we kidnap him?
She shook her head. – Let me run things here. Just don’t fuck up, that’s all I’m asking you.
He could have laughed at her. She clearly thought that things could carry on as before, that she could treat him as her chauffeur and her personal handyman.
She turned a corner, headed up along a street that looked exhausted. Dusty windows facing the traffic. They passed a nightclub, a gym next door. She stopped, nodded in the direction of somewhere called Aladdin’s Grill, according to the sign. Pictures of different dishes hanging in the window, falafel, salads, chicken kebab.
Inside, it smelled of spices and meat. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and Sigurd thought they might get something here. But when they sat at the table nearest the door and he brought the subject up, she brushed him aside. She was wearing shades, even though the little place was dimly lit and they were the only guests.
The sound of a toilet flushing. A small, thin boy emerged from a room next to the bar; he couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen. Light skinned, with straw-coloured hair and a thin matching moustache on his upper lip.
Sigurd ordered coffee and mineral water, had to repeat himself a couple of times before he could make himself understood. And a beer for Katja.
When the boy returned with the bottles and glasses on a tray she said:
– Is Tariq here today?
– Seventy-six. The boy turned towards Sigurd. – Kroner, he added, perhaps unsure whether the foreigner understood the currency.
Sigurd took out a hundred note, sceptical about the wisdom of using a credit card in a place like this.
– I know Tariq, Katja continued.
The boy shrugged his shoulders.
– Is he here now?
Another shrug. Katja removed her shades. – Someone says hello.
– Wait.
The boy disappeared through a curtain behind the bar. A couple of minutes later, he was back.
– Who says hello?
– Someone he knows very well. I would very much like to say it to him in person. Understand?
The boy glanced at Sigurd. – He has to leave.
– What do you mean? Sigurd wanted to know.
Katja nudged him. – Do as he says.
He took a walk around the block. It was still drizzling; not enough for him to get wet, just a layer of damp across his forehead and his bare arms. He carried on past the railings of the amusement park with the big dipper. A few battered old roundabouts there too. People’s Park, it said above the entrance. A car he thought he might have seen before was parked further up the road, engine running, a black van with graffiti on its sides. It pulled out, drove towards him. The windows were tinted; he couldn’t see who was sitting inside. Not difficult to feel paranoid here, he thought. Finding patterns in random events. He grinned to himself and headed for the park gates.
Not many there in the finely blowing rain. Two women in hijabs wearing black at the centre of a flock of children. Young people drinking beer on the grass under the trees. He glanced impatiently at his watch. Sent her a text. Was he supposed to wait the whole evening? Did she expect him to ride the roller coaster while she sat around talking to old friends?
A man wearing a clown’s outfit walked around selling helium balloons. Sigurd looked to see if there was one with a lion’s head, didn’t see one in the bouquet that wafted in the scarcely noticeable summer breeze. He leaned against the gate, seeing in his mind’s eye the fairground stalls at Liseberg, Jenny suddenly furious because he had let go of the balloon he’d just been bought. But now he remembers. It isn’t her anger that causes him to freeze at the sight of that silver and gold lion rising and rising as though being sucked up above the city, up through all the layers of the atmosphere. It’s the thought that it will disappear away into nothingness and never come back.
29
Jennifer took a step back, almost tumbled into the water, her foot slipping on a stone. The man who had approached her stood looming above her on the bank of the stream.
– What are you looking for?
She looked up at him, had seen him before, in the chapel where he came to identify his dead wife. It was the voice she recognised first, then the long face, the blue eyes beneath the peaked policeman’s cap.
– You work with the dead, he insisted. – You carried out the autopsy on her. You’ve got no business up here.
Her voice had locked solid; now it freed up again. – I … like to do a job thoroughly.
– This isn’t your job.
– I often walk in the forest, she lied.
It didn’t sound convincing, but he took a step away.
– You’re looking for something.
She clambered up from the stream. – That’s correct. Something I lost while I was up here. An earring.
That sounded even worse, and she cringed. Dahl peered intently at her, and she looked away.
– And you, she responded. – You are presumably at work, since you’re wearing your uniform.
He straightened up, no more than three paces away from her. She began fiddling with her phone.
– You don’t need to ring anyone.
He gestured abruptly with his arm, as though to stop her.
– Have to make a call, she answered quickly. – Someone waiting for me.
She scrolled through her call history, found Zoran, remembered he was in the middle of an operation, found Sigurd, scrolled on.
Roar Horvath had his answering service turned on. She left a message saying where she was, mentioning Dahl, saying that he was there with her. She watched him as she said this. He moved his head slightly, teeth just showing between his lips.
She started to walk back the way she had come. He followed a couple of metres behind.
– I frightened you.
She took a few steps aside and indicated that he should pass her.
– Did you see me arrive?
Now he smiled, the slightly pointed teeth fully revealed.
– I know you’ve arrested someone. He walked on by her. – An Iranian.
– I haven’t arrested anyone. As you know, I’m a pathologist.
– Who is this person they’ve arrested?
Jennifer squeezed her fingers around the phone. – You’re a policeman, she began. It seemed like a good thing to say.
He stopped, took a step closer. – It was nearly three days ago. She rang and said she was going for a coffee with a friend. Damn her.
Jennifer started playing with her phone again and was startled when it began ringing.
– Hello, Superintendent Horvath, she almost shouted.
Dahl turned away.
– Jenny, you better tell me what’s going on, said Roar Horvath.
She carried on walking towards the tarn.
– I’m up in the forest.
– Still? At the crime scene?
– Marita Dahl’s husband is here too. He arrived as I was …
She glanced up through the trees; he was no longer there.
– I’ve found something. She lowered her voice. – Something that shows Arash was telling the truth. Someone shot at him.
Roar Horvath didn’t interrupt while she explained. When she was finished he said: – I’ll send a patrol car out to pick you up. Keep this line open until they reach you. Don’t hang up, you hear me. Don’t even think about it.
The police car arrived as she had almost reached the farm. Less than two minutes later, another car turned up, a black station wagon. Roar Horvath jumped out.
– Typical Jenny, he exclaimed.
He had no justification for saying such a thing, but she let it pass.
The patrol car was sent away. Then she remembered. – I saw something in the stream.
– You said that.
– A spent shell. At the place where someone shot at Arash. We have to go up there and get it.
– I’ll get one of the technicians to do it.
– Tomorrow? It might be gone by then.
He took out his phone, hit a number, explained the situation.
– Where did you say? he asked her.
She described the place, the fallen tree trunk, estimated how far up the stream it was.
– They’ll be up there within an hour, he said after ending the call. – Now I’m driving you home.
Still embarrassed at having been the cause of an emergency call-out, she got into his car.
Something wet between the seats touched her fingers. She yelled and yanked her hand back.
– Pepsi, said Roar Horvath sternly. – Lie down.
Jennifer turned her head cautiously. A dog crouched on the floor in the back. It did as it was told, jumped up on to the back seat and curled up.
– I see you got a dog.
– Sorry. Should’ve warned you before you got in. She’s so bloody nosy, has to lick everything. Wouldn’t harm a fly.<
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– When did you become a dog-owner? she said, and immediately wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want to talk about anything personal with him, nothing that would bring up the fact that they once had a thing together.
– A couple of years ago. He turned the car in the space in front of the pile of chopped tree trunks. – The dog belonged to a friend of mine.
He manoeuvred down on to the path between the fields.
– And now it’s yours.
– He died just over three years ago. Burnt to death in his house. His wife had the four kids to take care of. Couldn’t manage the dog as well. I offered to look after it, so the animal ended up with me.
She looked at him. – That was one of the fires in Lillestrøm?
– Correct.
– It was your friend who …
– My best mate.
He swung round behind the barn, down on to the farm track.
– Not exactly obedient, but I’ve managed to train her up a bit.
The dog whimpered restlessly in the back seat.
– And how are you? he asked. – You sounded pretty shaky on the phone.
She felt herself blushing, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead.
– Fine now. It gave me a real shock suddenly to see him there.
– He didn’t threaten you?
He hadn’t done that. Even though she had felt threatened. She seemed to see him, bending over the bloodstained moss by the stream.
– He’s just lost his wife. It’s not surprising he’d want to see the place where it happened.
She was thinking of someone else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She looked out over the fields in front of them, towards the church tower in the distance.
– If we do find a shell casing where Arash said it should be, then it makes his statement a lot stronger.
Roar Horvath changed gear and accelerated. – He hasn’t really managed to give us anything we could call a statement.
– But if we believe him when he says someone shot at him …
– That doesn’t mean that he isn’t involved.
He pushed away the dog, which had rested its snout on the back of the seat and was sniffing at Jennifer’s hair.
Certain Signs that You are Dead Page 21