Calling Out For You

by Karin Fossum

  "But she was killed where she was found," Sejer reminded him.

  "But what if there were two? If there was a customer at the café when Poona arrived?"

  "And they both tried it on and one of them drove after her to finish it off?"

  "Yes. Something like that."

  Carefully Sejer lifted the suitcase into the car.

  "Skarre. We'll check the contents of this. You go and talk to Gøran Seter's girlfriend."

  "Yes, boss." Sejer rolled his eyes. "She works in the mall, sells perfume. It all fits, doesn't it? A beefcake and a painted doll, textbook stuff," Skarre said.

  "Just get out of here," Sejer ordered him.

  "Why the sudden hurry?"

  "You said his face was scratched. Check his alibi."

  The suitcase was unlocked. It was secured with two broad straps pulled tight. Sejer slid the locks open. Two sharp clicks were heard. Then he opened the lid. Wet clothes and shoes. For a while he stood staring at the exotic colours. Turquoise, lemon, orange. And underwear. It looked brand new and was folded into clear plastic bags. Two pairs of shoes. A sponge bag with a floral pattern. A bag with different-coloured hair bands. A hairbrush. A dressing gown, rose-coloured and silky. The clothes were folded neat and tight. Her few possessions looked lost and strangely misplaced in the meeting room. The objects overwhelmed them. She would have placed her belongings in the drawers in Jomann's bedroom. The brush on the chest of drawers, the sponge bag in the bathroom. The shoes in the wardrobe. In her mind she had imagined unpacking with her husband helping her. She had 1,000 metres to go when she died.

  They found Poona's papers in the brown folder. Travel insurance and passport. On the photograph she was very young and looked like a ten-year-old. She didn't smile in the photograph.

  "These things belong to Jomann," Sejer said. "Take care of them. They're all he's got left."

  The men nodded. Sejer thought of Elise, his wife. Her hairbrush still lay on the shelf under the mirror; it had been there for thirteen years and would never be removed. Everything else had gone. Clothes and shoes. Jewellery and bags. But not the hairbrush. Perhaps Jomann, too, would put this hairbrush on the shelf under his mirror. How significant things could become.

  He left the room and called the hospital. They told him that Jomann was at his sister's bedside.

  The shopping centre was crowded. Surprising really that Gunwald was still in business, Skarre thought. He looked around for the perfumery and saw a counter between a wool shop and a key cutter. A girl was sitting behind the counter, reading. Skarre ran his eyes across bottles, jars, tubes and boxes. What did they use it all for, he wondered. A single shelf was set aside for men. He studied the bottles and looked at the young woman.

  "What would you recommend for me," he said, "if I wanted to smell good?"

  She turned towards him and gave him a professional once-over.

  "Hugo Boss is good. And Henley. Depends if you want to be really noticed or not."

  "I'd like to be noticed," Skarre said enthusiastically.

  She picked a bottle from the shelf. Opened it and dabbed some on his wrist. He sniffed it obediently and smiled at her.

  "Well, well," he said, laughing. "That's a bit frisky. How much is it?"

  "390 kroner," she said.

  Skarre nearly choked.

  "You must remember that there are years of scientific research behind a fragrance," she said, businesslike. "They experiment for ages before they finally get it right."

  "Mm," Skarre said. "You're Ulla, aren't you?"

  She looked at him in surprise. "Yes. That's me."

  "Police," he said. "You probably know why I'm here." Ulla had broad shoulders and huge breasts. They looked real. Otherwise she was slim with long legs and was very skilfully made up.

  "Then I'll have to disappoint you," she said. "I don't know anything about that business at Hvitemoen."

  "No, we didn't think so either," Skarre smiled. "But that's how we work. We turn every stone."

  "Nothing will crawl out from under my stone," she said, pretending to be insulted. This caused Skarre to laugh with embarrassment.

  "Of course not. I'm just trying to make an impression, but it doesn't work every time. Is there somewhere quiet we could talk?"

  "I can't leave this place," she said quickly.

  "Isn't there anyone you can ask, just for a minute?"

  She looked around the large hall. There were two girls at the bakery counter and they didn't seem to have much to do. She waved to one of them and she came running over.

  "There's a bench over there. We can go and sit there."

  The cast-iron bench was terrible. Skarre solved the problem by sitting at the very edge and leaning forward.

  "Just to make you aware. We're at the stage where we're eliminating people. Do you understand? We're trying to find out where people actually were on the evening of the 20th. And what they might've seen."

  "Precisely. But I didn't see anything at all." She looked at him apprehensively.

  "But I'll ask you anyway. Where were you on the evening of the 20th?"

  Ulla thought back. "First I went to Adonis to work out. With a guy I know."

  Skarre thought her choice of words for her boyfriend was strange, but he made no comment.

  "We finished around 8 p.m. I took the bus from town out to my sister who lives a mile out o Elvestad. She is married and has a two-year-old boy. I babysat for her," she said.

  "I see. How long were you there?"

  "Till about midnight."

  "And – this Gøran. He was with you?"

  "No," she said abruptly. "I don't need company to look after a two-year-old. I watched TV and caught the last bus home."

  "So your boyfriend didn't keep you company?"

  She gave him a cutting look.

  "Gøran," Skarre said.

  "I don't have a boyfriend," she said.

  Skarre rested his chin in his hands and looked at her. On one hand she wore a pretty ring with a black stone.

  "You're not with Gøran Seter?" he said calmly.

  "Used to be," she said, and he heard the despondency in her voice.

  "It's over?"

  "Yes."

  "When was it over?"

  "That very day," she said. "The 20th after the work-out. I'd had enough."

  Time passed while Skarre digested the news and slowly took on board the significance of it.

  "Ulla," he said quietly, "forgive me for asking you what might seem to be personal questions. However, I need to know some of the details surrounding your break-up with Gøran."

  "Why?" she said, fearful.

  "I can't explain. Please tell me what you can. Exactly when and how did it happen?"

  "But why do I have to talk about it?"

  "I understand that you think it's none of my business. But, actually, it is."

  "Neither of us is mixed up with this case. I don't want to."

  She clammed up again.

  Skarre encouraged her. "You don't need to give details. Just give me a brief description of how it happened."

  He focused his blue eyes on Ulla's green ones. That usually worked, and this time was no exception.

  "We'd been together for nearly a year. We used to work out together at Adonis two or three times a week. I don't always work out three times, but Gøran does. So he picks me up and we go together. Work out for a couple of hours and then we leave. We were at Adonis on the evening of the 20th and I was determined to end it. I waited till we'd finished our work-out. Then we went to our separate changing rooms. I dreaded it," she admitted. "Decided to postpone it. Find a better occasion. But then it just came flying out of my mouth. We met at the exit like we always did. He bought a Coke, I bought a Sprite, which we drank outside. Then I told him. That I'd had enough. That I was going to catch the bus instead."

  Skarre's thoughts took off in all directions.

  "Ulla," he said, "what was he wearing? After the work-out. Do you remember?"

&n
bsp; She gave him an uncertain look. "Now, what was it? Tennis shirt with a collar. White. And Levi jeans. Black. That's what he wears."

  "How did he take it?"

  "His face turned white. But there was nothing he could do. If it's over, it's over. So he said nothing. Just stormed off and threw himself into his car."

  "Did he tell you where he was going?"

  "No. But I stood there for a while watching him. He made a call, I remember. On his mobile. Then he drove off. The tyres squealed."

  "Ulla," Skarre said calmly, "we'll be back to talk to you. But you've got nothing to worry about. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," she said gravely.

  "You can go back to work now," he said. Then he left the shopping centre and got into his car. Drummed his fingers continuously on the steering wheel. Gøran Seter had not been babysitting with Ulla. It was over. He'd been rejected. On his way home he passed Hvitemoen. He was alone in the red Golf and he was wearing a white shirt.

  Chapter 15

  Linda had called Karen repeatedly, but her mum kept saying that she was out. It was several days since they had last spoken. People stared at her when she went to the café or cycled down the road. They seemed hostile. She stood by the window staring into the dark garden. Rumours flew around, mercilessly, about whom the police had been to see and especially where they had been more than once. Her mum didn't seem particularly excited one way or the other that Linda had called the police. As far as she knew, there was no prospect of meeting Jacob again. She didn't know what she could do to make him come to the house. She had searched her memory over and over through confused snapshots, as they seemed, for further details. The two people in the meadow, the strange game. When she thought of it, it still seemed like a game. But Jacob had said that you saw what you wanted to see. No-one wanted to see a murder. A man running after a woman, like they do all the time. That's why she'd drawn that conclusion. Gøran had given her such an evil stare that day in the café when she had been looking at his car. Now he had probably made the connection. Not that she was scared of Gøran, but she didn't want to get him into trouble. She had just wanted to tell them about the car. Lots of people owned Golfs. They could be from anywhere. But it was too late. They had talked to both Gøran and Ulla. Then she thought about Gøran's face, about the scratches on his face. Other people must have noticed them. They would have mentioned them in any case. She wasn't going to say anything else, not a single word. But she had to see Jacob again! She lingered by the window, thinking hard. Her mum had gone to Holland to bring back a load of tulips. The house was quiet, it was past 11 p.m. Suddenly she rushed out into the hall and locked the door. The sharp click of the lock frightened her. She sat at the kitchen table. When the telephone rang she leapt up and gasped. Perhaps it was Karen ringing back at last. She lifted the handset and called out her name. But no-one answered. She could hear someone breathe. Confused, she remained where she was, holding the handset.

  "Hello?"

  No reply. Just the dialling tone. She put down the handset, her hands trembling. Now they had started to scare her, too. She sat on the sofa, biting her nails. Outside the wind rustled in the trees. No-one would hear her if she screamed. Fear threatened to overpower her. She switched the TV on, then switched it off again. If someone came to the door she wouldn't be able to hear them with all that noise. She decided to go to bed. Quickly she brushed her teeth and ran up the stairs. Closed the curtain. Pulled off her clothes, crept under the duvet. Lay there listening. She had a strong feeling that someone was outside. It was silly. There had never been anyone outside the house apart from the deer that came to eat the fallen apples no-one could be bothered to pick up. She turned off the lamp and hid under the duvet. The man who had done that terrible thing would never come to her house. He was probably in hiding. Three hundred people had called the hotline. Imagine, she was just one of three hundred.

  Suddenly she heard a sound. It was quite distinct and not something she had imagined. A thump against the outside wall. She jerked upright in her bed. Sat listening breathlessly. Then a kind of dragging sound. Linda felt sick. She bent over in the bed, hugging herself. Someone was outside! Someone was in the garden. She put her feet on the floor, ready to jump. Any minute now someone would start fiddling with the lock downstairs. There was a rushing noise in her ears, she couldn't think. Then everything went silent. The room was in total darkness. She went to the window and stuck two fingers behind the curtain. Stared out through the narrow gap. At first all she could see was the darkness. But then her night vision took over and she glimpsed the trees outside and the faint light from the kitchen which fell softly on the lawn. Then she saw a man. He was staring right up at her window. She backed into a corner and stayed there gasping. This is the punishment, she thought. He would take his revenge now because she had phoned. In a blind panic she dashed out and ran down the stairs. Grabbed the telephone and dialled Jacob's number, the private number in Nedre Storgate, which she knew by heart. She panted down the receiver when he answered.

  "Someone's here," she whispered desperately. "He's standing outside in the garden staring up at my window."

  "Sorry," she heard, "who's this, please?"

  "Linda," she shouted. "I'm home alone. There's a man in the garden!"

  "Linda?" Skarre said. "What are you talking about?"

  His voice was a great relief. She started to cry.

  "A man. He tried to hide behind some trees, but I saw him."

  Skarre finally understood what this was about and adopted a professional and reassuring tone of voice. "You're home alone and you thought you saw someone?"

  "I did see someone! Quite clearly. I heard him too. He was pressing up against the wall."

  Jacob Skarre had never in all his life experienced anything like this. He sat for a while, thinking. Decided to talk to her and calm her down, she was probably overwrought.

  "How did you get my home number?" he asked.

  "From the directory."

  "Yes, of course. Of course you did. But I'm not on duty now, you know."

  "No. But what if he tries to get in?"

  "Have you locked the door?"

  "Yes."

  "Linda," he said. "Go to the window. See if he's still out there."

  "No!"

  "Do as I say."

  "I daren't!"

  "I'll wait. I won't hang up."

  Linda sneaked over to the window and peeked out into the garden. It was deserted. For a time she stood there, staring in confusion, then she came back to the kitchen.

  "Was he there?"

  "No."

  "Perhaps it's something you've imagined? Because you're scared?"

  "You think I've lost it. But I haven't!"

  "I don't think that. But what you're scared of won't happen, Linda."

  "Everyone knows what I've said," she sniffled. "Everyone in the area."

  "Are they unkind to you?"

  "Yes!"

  She gripped the handset as tightly as she could. He mustn't hang up. She wanted to talk to Jacob till dawn.

  "Listen to me, Linda," Skarre said urgently. "Many people are too cowardly to call. They see all sorts of things, but don't want to get involved at any cost. You've been brave, you've told us what you knew. And provided us with the possible make of the car, nothing else. No-one can accuse you of anything."

  "No, but I'm thinking of Gøran," she said. "I bet he's mad."

  "He has no reason to be," Skarre said. "D'you know what? I suggest you go to sleep now as quickly as possible. Tomorrow you'll see things in a more positive light."

  "Aren't you coming over to investigate?"

  "There's probably no need. However, I can call the station and ask them to send over an officer if you really want me to."

  "I'd rather you came," she said, meekly.

  Skarre sighed. "I'm off duty," he said. "Try to relax, Linda. People do go out for walks, you know. Perhaps it was a night wanderer taking a short cut through your garden."

&nbs
p; "Yes. I'm sorry." She pressed the handset so hard against her ear that it felt like Jacob was inside her head. "Well, I'm not going to say anything any more," she said obstinately.

  "But surely you've told us everything you know by now?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "Then that's that. Go to bed. I understand that you're afraid. It was a terrible thing that happened," Skarre said.

  Don't hang up! a voice was screaming in her head. Jacob! Don't!

  "Goodnight then, Linda."

  "Goodnight."

  Gunder's cheeks were sunken. He was unshaven and his shirt had a dark rim round the collar. Just as well Marie can't see me, he thought. He stared down at Poona's belongings, which were spread out on the table. The clothes were dry, but stained from the dirty water. You could still see how beautiful they were. These are my wife's clothes, he thought. The nightgown and the hairbrush. When he closed his eyes he could recall how she used to lift her hair forward across her shoulder to brush it.

  "We'll bring them home to you as soon as possible," Sejer said.

  Gunder nodded. "It'll be good to have something," he said bravely.

  "There's one more thing," Sejer said. "We've received a letter from the police in New Delhi. You can see it if you wish."

  He nodded and took the sheet of paper. Struggled a bit with the English wording.

  "Mr Shiraz Bai, living in New Delhi, confirms one sister, Poona, born on June 1st, 1962. Left for Norway on August 19th. Mr Bai will come to Oslo on September 10th to take his sister home."

  Gunder gasped. "Back? To India? But she's my wife! I've got the marriage certificate here. Surely I'm her closest relative? Can he do this?" Gunder was so upset that he stood on the floor shaking. The blue eyes shone with fear and the letter trembled in his hands.

  Sejer tried to calm him down. "We'll help you with this. I'm sure we'll find a solution."

  "I must have some rights. A marriage is a marriage."

  "It is," Sejer said. He opened a drawer in his desk. "However, at least I can let you take this home." He handed Gunder a slim envelope. "Her brooch."

  Gunder had to wipe away a tear when he saw the beautiful piece of jewellery.