Where they sat the radiant sun filtered through the luxuriant green growth of the treetops. I felt like an interloper into Paradise as I stopped in front of them, my shadow falling obliquely across their bench. She looked up; he had recognised me from some distance. At once an air of vigilance and tension overcame him, as though he was prepared for the worst.
‘Hi, Siv,’ I said.
‘Hi,’ she said in a hushed voice without any signs of recognition.
‘Varg Veum. Do you remember me?’
She nodded, with a faint smile, as at a distant memory.
‘So this is your new girlfriend, Lars,’ I said to Lars Mikalsen.
He shrugged, but did not refute my statement.
I looked at Siv. ‘You told me you had a new friend, Siv. I should perhaps have made the link earlier.’
She wore a faraway smile, as though barely comprehending what I said.
‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’
‘Is it all beginning to drift into the past?’
‘The past,’ she repeated, like an obedient child.
I was unsure how present she actually was. There was an invisible membrane over her eyes, a silk shawl protecting her from the surrounding world.
A few small birds chirped in the bushes behind them. Others pecked at the ground under some large rhododendron bushes with violet flowers. Now and then they made sporadic forays and struggled through the gravel, which surrounded them like a cloud.
‘Are you perhaps ready for a chat about it?’
Lars Mikalsen half-rose from the bench. ‘Veum,’ he said, but I wasn’t sure what he meant.
‘Yes?’
‘Be careful!’
‘With reference to what?’
He lowered his voice. ‘She’s not … fine yet. It would take nothing for her to have a relapse. The doctors have not yet allowed the police to interview her.’
‘This isn’t an interview. I have no official status. This is a little chat in the sunshine, so to speak.’
He opened his mouth, but I interrupted him: ‘But I can start with you. You haven’t been admitted to hospital, I take it?’
He stood up and came over to me. ‘We can talk, but let’s move away. Siv …’ He turned to her. In a much gentler voice he said: ‘Veum and I are going to have a little chat. You just relax.’
She gave a sweet smile, and we did as he had suggested and withdrew to a spot some metres away.
‘What do you want to know?’
I looked around. The main building lay bathed in sun. There were several people outside walking, others sat at tables, some with a bottle of mineral water in front of them. It was difficult to distinguish between patients, nurses and relatives.
‘Leif Larsen … what sort of name is that?’
‘One I made up.’
‘Useful for getting around incognito perhaps?’
‘What do you want to know, I asked!’
‘Let’s start at the beginning, shall we. You dropped by fru Monsen, I heard. Collected the bag Siv had left there. Where is it now?’
He tried to retain control of his expression, but failed to hide the distaste he felt. ‘None of your bloody business!’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘They’ll find it anyway once they’ve started looking.’
‘They?’ He paled visibly.
‘Yes, you know … Your debts have not shrunk since we last spoke. Malthus and Dalby may be inside, but there are others who feel you have trodden on their toes. The suppliers in Denmark, for example.’ After a suitable pause for effect I added: ‘Or the police.’
He pursed his lips, but it was not difficult to see: he preferred the police to the suppliers.
‘Or,’ I said. ‘We can arrange an anonymous return of the goods. Out of consideration for Siv. I’ll give you a hand, if you’d like.’
He sent me a sceptical look. Then he shook his head. ‘You have no idea what you are suggesting.’
‘Oh, yes, I do. Bit by bit I’m beginning to get a pretty good feel for the situation. Does she know that Torvaldsen’s dead?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve told her.’
‘How did she take it?’
‘Like everything else. With apathy.’ In a surge of emotion he added: ‘The reason she’s here …’ He broke off.
‘Yes?’
He hesitated a few seconds more. Then he seemed to decide to lay his cards on the table. ‘She feels a dreadful, heavy sense of guilt!’
I waited, but he didn’t expand. ‘You mean … for what happened to Margrethe and Karl Gunnar?’
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And not entirely without reason perhaps. She had known for a long time that something was going on at Torvaldsen’s. That was why she visited her mother and went down to the cellar that day. Because she’d been involved in the planning, from the very first moment.’
‘No! She hadn’t.’
‘No?’
‘She knew nothing.’
‘But you said …’
‘The arrangement was that we would share the money and that Margrethe and Karl Gunnar would lie low for a week and then … go abroad.’
‘Really? Listen then to what I’ve worked out. The short version, if you like. Siv, Margrethe and Karl Gunnar had a very difficult childhood, and ever since they’ve been adults they – whenever they met – fantasised about how they would get even. How they would avenge themselves. And there was a lot to avenge. It was one thing that the damned committee had held the family together and prolonged the father’s abuse of his two daughters for years. But quite another that two men on the committee had themselves sexually assaulted Margrethe, and now that they were showing up in the red-light district, she went to pieces. She wanted the whole thing finished. She wanted to take her revenge now. And in fact that was very convenient. You and Siv had got together and exchanged confidences. She knew about the package you were going to collect in Denmark. You told me yourself the plan was to make this the last trip, then you would do rehab and get back onto an even keel. But then you changed plans and decided to keep the whole package for yourselves. Or share it with Margrethe and Karl Gunnar. That was still a great deal more than you would have got from Malthus. Margrethe and KG were on Skoltegrunn Quay to meet you when you arrived. They drove you to Skuteviken, the package changed hands, and KG knocked you about for appearance’s sake, so badly that a taxi driver intervened and drove you to A&E. Well thought out, but not quite clever enough to fool Malthus and Dalby. You were given another going-over, but obviously you kept your mouth shut.’
He swallowed and glanced at Siv. She sat with her face half-turned to the sun with the same serene smile. There was nothing to suggest that she had caught any of what we were saying.
‘Margrethe, KG and Siv met at her place. She would keep the drugs there while they carried out what they had been waiting to do for many years. It was now or never, for as soon as they had shared the money they would make good their chance to leave the country … perhaps for ever. Then they went to Falsens vei.’
‘No!’ he broke in. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. Siv knew nothing about Margrethe and KG going there. She was convinced they would leave the country and that was it. That was the agreement. To Oslo, sell the drugs and then … off. But they just went missing without taking their share.’
‘I see! So you were left with the whole package, in Siv’s flat. That must … that must have felt like sitting on a ticking bomb.’
He looked at me, his eyes weary. ‘No one knew a thing about Siv and me. Except Maggi and KG. The drugs were safe.’
He was right about that to a certain extent. I had been to her place myself, with the package in the adjacent room, in a loft storage room or wherever she had chosen to hide it.
‘And what had you been planning to do with your share? Take it to Copenhagen? You wouldn’t have sold it locally, I presume?’
He shrugged. ‘We had our … plans.’
‘Well. Let me go back to Falsens vei. What
happened there we’ll never know for sure, since all those involved are dead. What we feel fairly confident about is that KG and Margrethe called on Mobekk and caught him on the hop – with death as a consequence. Before leaving they messed the place up so that it would look like a burglary. But with Torvaldsen the boot was on the other foot. He was able to defend himself, and he did it so well that they ended up in his freezer. The stolen car they had used when they appeared to rob you was found by the police with KG’s fingerprints on the wheel and hers on the door handle. They never got any further. Their journey stopped there, more or less where it had started.’
I looked at Lars Mikalsen. Once again it was clear a terrible battle was going on inside him. I added: ‘Shall we say that more or less summarises the whole business?’
He tossed his head and threw out his arms. Then he said in a low voice: ‘What did you say about sending it back … anonymously?’
‘If you tell me where I can find it, then …’
‘I can go with you. You won’t find it on your own.’
‘Of course it’s impossible for me to guarantee the police won’t find their way to you anyway. And you’ll have to live with your relationship with the suppliers for a long time, I would guess. But, hopefully, there will be no consequences for Siv, and right now that ought to be the most important issue … for both of us.’
He looked at Siv. A tender smile lit his face, and turning back to me, he said: ‘OK. Let’s agree on that. Did you come by car?’
‘Yes.’
‘If you can give me some time with her alone, then …’
‘I’ll be waiting down in the car park.’
‘Thank you.’
We strolled back to Siv. I held out my hand. ‘I’m off, Siv.’
She looked up, reached out and gave my hand a limp shake and smiled the same, nigh on transparent smile.
‘I wish you all the best. Just remember this. What happened was not your fault. The course had been set years ago, and by others, not you three children. The guilty ones in this matter are those who should have been your guardians, your biological parents and the people who committed themselves to looking after you. Most of them are gone now.’
She nodded, and in a strange way I felt as if I had been forgiven, as if it were me standing there representing all guardians from the dawn of time until today. And perhaps I was. Perhaps we were all accomplices, every last bastard who hadn’t opened their eyes in time. Perhaps we were all carrying around our generation’s guilt towards the weakest, the youngest and those with least protection.
I could have asked about her father’s death of course. Whether she had made use of the key she had and entered the home that day as well. But I chose not to. Some questions are best left unanswered. It would not have made any difference one way or the other.
Together with Lars Mikalsen I drove to the copse in Fana where he had buried the package that never arrived at its destination in January. The same afternoon I handed it in to the police station. I told Atle Hellev I had been given an anonymous tip-off. He didn’t give the impression he believed me, and of course he had good reason.
In September, Kjell Malthus and Rolf Terje Dalby stood before court for a second time. My life was still worth no more than eighteen months, but the jury extended Malthus’s sentence by four months, from twelve to sixteen. I registered the result, but felt no reason to celebrate.
At approximately the same time Siv was discharged from Sandviken Hospital. On the grapevine I heard that she and Lars Mikalsen had moved to somewhere in Jutland where reliable sources informed me there was a rehab centre for drug addicts that boasted excellent results. I never saw either of them again.
About the Author
GUNNAR STAALESEN was born in Bergen, Norway in 1947. He made his debut at the age of twenty-two with Seasons of Innocence and in 1977 he published the first book in the Varg Veum series. He is the author of over 20 titles, which have been published in 24 countries and sold over two million copies. Twelve film adaptations of his Varg Veum crime novels have appeared since 2007, starring the popular Norwegian actor Trond Epsen Seim. Staalesen, who has twice won Norway’s top crime prize, the Golden Pistol, lives in Bergen with his wife.
DON BARTLETT lives with his family in a village in Norfolk. He translates from Scandinavian literature and has translated, or co-translated, books by Per Petterson, Karl Ove Knausgaard, Lars Saabye Christensen, Roy Jacobsen, Ingvar Ambjørnsen, Jo Nesbø and K.O.Dahl.
Copyright
Arcadia Books Ltd
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First published in the United Kingdom by Arcadia Books 2013 Originally published by Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, Oslo as Kalde Hjerter Copyright © Gunnar Staalesen 2008 English language translation copyright © Don Bartlett 2013
Gunnar Staalesen has asserted his moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–9573304–7–4
This Ebook published in 2013
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