Frozen Moment

by Camilla Ceder

  Wolfs wife might be a bit different - she still looked good and didn't seem to be completely losing it, which made it all the more incomprehensible that she had chosen such a tosser.

  He brought the truck up to the door and Pilen helped him bundle Wolf inside despite the fact that he was demanding one more beer.

  Malle was annoyed with Pilen as well - he always went along with Wolf. If he hadn't been given an ultimatum, he would probably have sat there all night listening to Wolf talking bollocks, knowing perfectly well that they had agreed to leave by midnight at the latest. He was like a girl: scared of conflict, always taking the easy way out.

  As he drove through the gate Malle realised with a slight feeling of unease that he wasn't quite as sober as he'd thought. The odd beer had slipped down. He didn't usually worry too much on the gravel tracks around where he lived - he'd never even seen a police car out there - but they were going on the motorway tonight.

  Anxiety made him even more annoyed. Fucking Wolf. If he hadn't been so bloody awkward, Malle wouldn't have drunk so much. Throwing all reason out of the window, his anger made him grab the bottle

  Wolf and Pilen were passing between them. He took a couple of gulps. Fuck it. If he got caught he would lose his licence anyway. He was possibly the most sober of them, but the police wouldn't care about that.

  On top of everything else, it was snowing heavily by now. The pickup's useless windscreen wipers made it difficult to see, and the effort of driving in a straight line was making his head hurt; he didn't want to end the night in a ditch. Wolf had just fallen asleep, dribbling against the seat belt, when Malle heard himself cry out and for a second he lost control. The wheels had skidded on a patch of ice, and the truck slid alarmingly close to the ditch before stopping with a jolt. Wolf had woken up and was staring at him, his eyes wild.

  'What the fuck are you doing?'

  'There was something there. I nearly hit…'

  With his heart in his mouth he frantically wiped the condensation from the inside of the windscreen and caught sight of a dark figure to the side of the car. He flung open the door.

  'What the fuck! You need to look where you're going!'

  The man slams his fist against the bonnet of his truck and yells at her.

  'What the fuck!'

  Maya is dazzled by the headlights and holds her arm up to shield her eyes. She has seen enough drunks in her time to be able to determine straight away what kind he is: he's the kind who gets angry.

  'Look where you're going,' he says again, but with less force behind the words. For some reason this wavering makes her angry. She drops the bike and takes a couple of steps towards him.

  'Look where I'm going? What about the way you were driving, you fucking lunatic! You nearly hit me, even though I was standing on the verge!'

  'You've got a flat.'

  'You think I don't know that?'

  For a few seconds they can hear the dying sound of the wheel, spinning around in the air where she threw the bike down. When it finally stops, the noises of the forest are very clear. A steady quiet drip. A creak, a rustle. And silence.

  She can only see the man's silhouette, his hair, a broad-shouldered jacket. His face is in darkness. She takes a step back, out of the circle of light.

  There is movement inside the pickup: someone is coming to life and groaning. At the same moment the passenger door opens and another man practically falls out. He's huge and he's completely pissed.

  'What the fuck! Are you coming or… Oh, a girl. You can sit on my knee.'

  He slurs his words and pats his crotch with a whinnying laugh, then places one foot on the ground and heaves himself unsteadily out of the truck. His bearded face is sweaty and his eyes are bloodshot.

  There's a third one, in the back seat.

  Maya's heart is thumping unevenly, but there is no turning back. Don't let them see you're afraid. She leans forward slightly towards the man who was driving. The unmistakable smell of alcohol meets her halfway.

  'You're drunk, for fuck's sake. You were lucky. If you'd hit me you'd have been arrested.' She moves back towards her bike. 'Arsehole,' she mutters.

  'OK, I'm sorry, just stop going on about it!' His voice has acquired a whining undertone; he seems unsure about his anger. 'Shall I put your bike on the back? You don't look too good.'

  Don't let them see you're afraid. I just want to get home. Just get through this.

  'I wouldn't get in a car with a drunk like you even if I was dead.'

  The girl was standing in the full beam of the headlights once again. This time she wasn't shielding her eyes, she was just standing there like an idiot, waiting to see what would happen next. She couldn't really see him from where she was standing, not the way he could see her.

  Her face was ridiculously sweet and girlish, juxtaposed with those old man's clothes that were too big for her, and her cheeks were red from the cold, like a small child.A fucking furious child. Malle somehow found this both attractive and exciting. He'd apologised, for fuck's sake. He'd offered her a lift up to the road, where she could have caught the night bus or taken a taxi or whatever. What else could he do? The party was an all-nighter, and it would be many hours before the narrow forest track was illuminated by cars and motorbikes on their way home. It wasn't a good idea for a girl to be wandering about out here in the forest on her own in the middle of the night. Anything could happen. And nobody would see or hear a thing.

  Wolf let go of the door and approached the.girl.

  'Come on, come for a little ride with us. We've got booze and other stuff I'm sure you'd like… Or maybe you swing the other way? Maybe you don't like cock?' he went on, his voice low and challenging, sounding almost sober now.

  Malle was on the point of telling Wolf to pack it in, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. The girl's insult still lay there, like a thorn in his eye. He discovered that he was enjoying seeing the mouthy little cow suddenly looking so scared. Not quite so full of herself now.

  She seemed to have decided it was best to keep quiet. Good decision. She was intending to pick up her crappy bike and get the hell out of there, but Wolf had reached out and grabbed her arm. Then she screamed, Leave me alone, you bastard! You re fucking disgusting! She screamed for help too. She was welcome to try, nobody would hear her.

  At the same moment he realised she didn't have a chance. They had the power to do whatever they wanted, and there was nothing she could say or do to stop them. The thought turned him on, as did the sight of Wolf, an expression on his hairy face that Malle had never seen before, pushing the screaming, struggling girl ahead of him towards the truck.

  Wolf had pinned her arms behind her back with one of his huge fists, while with the other hand was fiddling with his flies. The drunken babbling idiot had completely disappeared.

  Pilen had opened the door of the truck to make it easy for Wolf to push the girl head first on to the seats, then he stood there turned to stone, looking as if he hadn't the faintest idea what might be expected of him.

  Maya leaves her body and contemplates the scene from above, from the tops of the trees. This is a relief in itself, the fact that there is no need to offer any more resistance. The details become razor-sharp: a piece of chewing gum in the shape of a horse's head stuck to the seat. The remains of a burger meal and countless empty beer cans on the floor. Homer Simpson looped around the rear-view mirror. The smell of sweat and cow dung from the fur hat beneath her cheek.

  Come on, urges the Big One.

  The one who seems scared pulls her coat up above her waist with an expression that would be comical in a different context: disgusted, as if he were dissecting a rat. From her perspective high up above them, Maya can see that he is indeed afraid. Her short brown skirt over black trousers is exposed. He pulls a face and breathes quickly and heavily as if he were having an asthma attack, then tugs at the skirt as if trying to rip the seams apart.

  In the end the Big One has had enough and pushes his useless pal out of t
he way, but before he has time to pin Maya to the seat with his body, she sees her chance. In a fraction of a second she returns to her body, manages to shift backwards and drives her heel into her attacker's crotch. The Big One loses his balance and falls back into the Scared One, who seems to have been waiting for the opportunity to pass out. He slips and tumbles down into the ditch.

  Maya seizes her chance and runs, straight out into the black nothingness. A protruding branch tears at the skin on her face. She runs and clamps her jaws shut; she will cry about this, but not yet - with tear- filled eyes she would be lost in the darkness. She is terrified of tripping and falling, but pushes away the pictures crowding her brain: Maya lying there with her face close to the frozen ground, her pursuers catching up with her in seconds. Focusing on the moment is the only thing to do. The blood trickling down into the corner of her mouth has the bitter taste of iron. She will scream about this, but not now; she must run with the piercing scream unborn inside her body. The sound of a snapping twig makes her glance back over her shoulder. The headlights of the pickup seem alarmingly close.

  She can hear nothing but the pounding of her heart.

  Before his brain even had time to register what was happening, Malle had run around the truck and set off after the girl. He couldn't bear the idea of her getting away and winning. Not now, when they were going to show her who was in charge.

  Off into the forest she ran, pathetic, her clothes in disarray. They caught up with her after just a few dozen metres, in among the fir trees. He couldn't speak for Wolf, but he had given up any idea of actually fucking her, she was too pitiful, but for that very reason she had to learn some manners. Then they would drive her up to the road and she would feel a deep sense of gratitude that they had chosen not to harm her, even though they had the power to do so.

  Take it easy, he yelled, as much to her as to Wolf, who had flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth.

  And suddenly she fell. Afterwards he couldn't be sure whether she had slipped on a root or whether she just fainted, but she certainly fell, head first, and she didn't move.

  All he could hear then was his own heartbeat, and then Wolf's heavy breathing on the periphery, louder and louder, until he yelled at him to shut the fuck up.

  It was so dark, too bloody dark to see anything, but he thought again that the body on the ground was too still. With trembling hands he took out his torch, but he couldn't bring himself to switch it on. Wolf snatched it from him and shone it on to the snow, and afterwards, during that insane drive home, it was Pilen who wept like a child, with his fingers in his ears. And he was the one who hadn't even seen how the snow was stained red by the blood around her head, or the blind staring eyes.

  * * *

  Chapter 33

  2007

  Karlberg arrived at the heating and plumbing shop just in time for Anders Franzén's break, at least that was the impression he got from the owner, who was sitting in a little office behind the showroom with his feet up on the desk. With his earphones firmly in place and his eyes closed, Franzén seemed completely deaf to the world around him, including Karlberg's discreet tapping on the door frame.

  Karlberg tried gruff throat-clearing, but this didn't penetrate the wall of sound behind which the shop owner was hiding either. When he finally took two steps forward, he almost frightened the life out of Franzén. The earphones and the iPod clattered to the floor, and for a fraction of a second Karlberg was afraid he was heading for a punch. He backed away and groped for his ID card.

  'Police, I didn't mean to startle you. I did knock.'

  He pointed at the earphones now lying under the chair. Bearing in mind how loud the music was from a distance of two metres, it was hardly surprising that Franzén hadn't heard him knock.

  'I usually hear when a customer comes in,' Franzén apologised. 'I must have turned the volume up too high. I've got Lucinda Williams's latest on here. Brilliant. Have you heard it?'

  He held out the earphones to Karlberg, who declined.

  'I'd like to ask you some questions about a man you supposedly shared these premises with some time ago. Olof Bart.'

  The corner of Franzén's mouth twitched.

  'These premises, is that what he said? Is he in trouble, then?'

  'You could say that,' said Karlberg tersely. 'He's dead.'

  The colour drained out of Franzén's face in an instant.

  'Dead? But what the hell! If you're here that must mean he was-'

  'Murdered, yes. That's why I'd like your help with some information. You worked with Bart, is that correct? Did you see him on a daily basis?'

  'Well…' Anders Franzén looked at Karlberg, his expression hesitant. 'I don't really know what I can tell you. For a start we didn't share these premises. He rented a small area in my warehouse for a couple of years. I can't tell you what he did there, except that he took on all kinds of repairs. Agricultural machinery mainly, the odd car or motorbike. I assume he wasn't exactly keeping accounts and paying his taxes, but surely that can't be relevant now?'

  Karlberg shook his head.

  'No. So you had no real idea of who you were renting this space to?'

  'Oh yes,' Franzén protested. 'I did know him personally, but I don't know how far my obligation to check on someone's business dealings goes, just because he pays me rent. He was a jack of all trades - did all kinds of things to earn a bit extra. Bought stuff and did it up then resold it, so of course he needed a place to store everything. I had a big warehouse and I was only using half of it and… well, I needed the money.'

  He looked at Karlberg defiantly.

  'How did you get to know Olof Bart?'

  'Through friends, Ernst and Anette Persson. Bart was a neighbour of theirs. They knew he needed storage space and I needed a tenant, so they put us in touch.'

  That was rather strange, thought Karlberg. According to Persson, he had only spoken to Bart on a few occasions. It would seem a little odd, although not impossible, if Bart's need for storage space had come up on one of these rare occasions. Of course it was also odd to live next door to someone for ten years and never speak, although no doubt it wasn't unique. If the Perssons had, in fact, had a closer relationship with Bart than they had let on, they must have had a reason to lie.

  Anders Franzén's tone was now quite defensive.

  'I use the place for storage myself, but obviously I'm not there every day. I don't think he was there every day either, because he did other work as well. In the forest, among other things, I think. I didn't really ask him much about what he wanted the space for, or go poking about his stuff when he wasn't there. Besides, his section was locked and-'

  'I understand. You don't know anything about his business affairs,' Karlberg interrupted, 'but do you know anything about his character, his background?'

  Franzén firmly shook his head.

  'You said you knew him personally?'

  'Well yes… I thought he seemed a bit dodgy, to be perfectly honest. I don't have any real evidence for that, but I wasn't keen on the bloke.' He shrugged.

  'Go on.'

  'He was very difficult to talk to. Didn't look you in the eye, if you know what I mean. Didn't give a proper answer to anything. A bit evasive. But I did only see him occasionally after we'd signed the contract.'

  'I understand that.'

  Karlberg decided to try a different approach.

  'I heard that you cancelled the contract with Bart because of a disagreement.'

  Judging from the colour of Franzén's face, the tactic worked.

  'I did tell him he had to go, yes. If I'm honest, I'm not completely sure I had the right to do it but I'll tell you anyway.'

  He crossed his legs.

  'It was 2003,1 think. I'd been on my guard for a while because I'd had a nasty break-in at my summer cottage. It was horrible. They hadn't just stolen my stuff, they'd wrecked the place as well. They'd even crapped on the floor. Kids, maybe, drug addicts… how should I know. Anyway, it might have affected my j
udgement and made me overly suspicious. But I had been thinking that Bart seemed a shady character. I didn't know where I was with him, and that bothered me. One evening I went out to the warehouse after I'd closed the shop - it was November, so it was bloody dark. I don't know if you've checked out the area, but it's remote and deserted, just old warehouses nearby. Anyway, I didn't have time to react when a man crept up on me from behind and slammed me against the wall. I felt something sharp in my side and got the idea that he had a knife. You don't take chances in a situation like that, so I gave him my wallet and my watch. I actually had a Rolex at the time; my sister works in advertising and she'd been able to buy one cheap.'

  Franzén's forehead was glistening, but it was rather warm in the little office. His gaze wandered vaguely towards the door, almost as if he was expecting his assailant to march in, demanding to be allowed to give his side of the story. He seemed to have lost the thread.

  'So he got your wallet and your watch,' prompted Karlberg.

  'That's right. I was really shaken up afterwards. It was all a bit much, and I think that even then, totally illogically, I somehow linked the incident to Bart. Then a couple of weeks later I spotted him, Bart that is, in town. It was from a distance, on the other side of the street, and he didn't see me, but he had someone with him. I'm not one hundred per cent certain, since it was dark that night out by the warehouse, but I was sure it was the man who robbed me.'

  'Who was with Bart in town.'

  'Exactly. And I just felt that everything was so bloody unpleasant that I took the first chance I could find to chuck Bart out, which happened to be a month later. He was a bit late with the rent, just a few days - he often was and it didn't usually bother me - but that was the reason I gave for cancelling the contract with immediate effect.'