“Can’t you stay?” he urged. “You could say you’re spending the night with your girlfriend.”
Paula looked at him, then kissed the top of his strong nose.
“I don’t want to go home, but my girls might start to wonder about me.”
He stroked her hair and pulled her closer. Paula reached for her cell phone. She tapped in a text message:
Went later than I thought. Lots to talk about. Staying at Anna’s hotel for the night. Get the girls to school tomorrow morning. Tell them I’ll pick them up from gymnastics. Sleep well. /P
She drew a deep breath and felt her heart beat strongly. Quickly, so she wouldn’t change her mind, she sent the message. She instantly regretted it. She threw her head back on the pillow and exhaled through her teeth. Her cell phone blinked. Jens had already sent a reply.
The girls went to sleep at 9:30. Asked when you’d be coming home. I’ll take them to school. I’d appreciate it if you went grocery shopping. There’s no food in the house. Please take my car in for service tomorrow morning, too. One of the headlights is loose. Make sure it’s ready by Friday.
Paula exhaled again and showed the message to Passi. He read it and shook his head. “Is he always like that? Giving you orders?”
Paula shrugged. “I don’t even notice anymore. Perhaps I’d be like him if I went out to work all the time and he was home with the children. I’m just one of many he delegates his work to.”
“But you are his wife! That’s sick. You know he doesn’t appreciate you.”
Paula curled up next to him, laying her head on his chest. “At least I can stay here tonight. If I may.”
“Of course! I don’t want to let you go! And say, are you hungry? I haven’t had dinner yet.”
“You poor thing. I had a bite to eat before I left home.”
“I’ll make some pasta.”
“You know how to cook?” she asked.
Passi laughed. “Why not? Doesn’t your husband cook?”
Paula shook her head. “Not often. When he does, it’s only refined food.”
Passi laughed again. “I like cooking. We always cooked in my family. But my family isn’t Swedish. Maybe that’s why.”
Paula pretended to look insulted. “So you think we Swedes can’t cook?”
“Well, your people can’t make food as well as we can. And you don’t cook as often, either. All we Chileans do is eat and talk about food. We’re worse than the Italians.”
Passi got out of bed, and Paula couldn’t help admiring his body. She felt ashamed. She was just like all the middle-aged men looking for younger women. Here she was, a sex-starved housewife of forty, lusting after this young male body. What was the difference between her and those men?
Passi took a number of items from the refrigerator, and after fifteen minutes, a wonderful aroma wafted out from the kitchen. Passi lit two candles in their candlesticks. He then put down silverware.
“You have to excuse the fact I don’t have a dinner table. I usually eat in front of the television. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind!”
A few minutes later, Paula was curled up on the IKEA sofa, wrapped in a bright-red throw, and eating pasta with tomato sauce and mozzarella.
“This is delicious!”
“It’s my specialty,” he said.
Paula smiled and raised an eyebrow. “So this is what you offer all your girlfriends?”
Passi gave her a serious look. “I’ve never had a woman in my apartment before.”
Paula blinked. She stopped in the middle of lifting her fork to her mouth. She believed he was telling the truth. He felt just as strong an attraction to her as she did for him! Still, it all seemed impossible. Maybe because it was impossible.
Paula finished her dinner and tried to remember how long it had been since she’d eaten something with so many carbs. As Passi did the dishes, Paula went to the bathroom, fighting her way past a large mountain bike to get there.
CHAPTER 63
This press conference was more chaotic than the ones Marianne remembered from the past. Hans was always in his element speaking at one, but he’d end up like a wrung-out dishcloth when it was over. Olle didn’t look much better when he came back to Marianne’s office.
Marianne had a metallic taste in her mouth. She wished she could go have breakfast. For the past hour, she’d been dreaming of the freshly baked cinnamon buns at the corner café, but she hadn’t had even a few minutes to go get some. Olle gave her a tired grin.
“Everything went fine, thanks to you. Good preparation is the key. Now I have to find Torsten and go through everything with him. Then I’ll go home and sleep for a few hours. I’m scheduled for court all afternoon.”
A voice came from the hallway.
“What about Marianne? How much has she slept?”
An energetic Alexandra Baranski poked her head through the door. She looked accusingly at Olle. “I’ve heard she’s been up all night. If I were her boss, I’d order her to take the rest of the day off and not come back until tomorrow afternoon.”
Olle’s smile was tinged with exhaustion. “Yes, I was getting to that. Marianne, thank you. It’s time for you to go home. As Alexandra said, I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you until tomorrow after lunch. You need a good night’s sleep. It’s more than likely you’ll have to be on call tomorrow night again.”
“You’re fine if I leave?”
Olle nodded. “I need you rested and full of energy tomorrow. Go home and sleep now.”
Alexandra nodded. “I notice you also finished quite a bit of work on other assignments during the night. I didn’t expect my stuff back until next week. Go sleep in good conscience!”
Marianne packed up her things and set up her computer as she’d planned during the night. It would be easier to simply change her password, but she thought it would be more interesting to see if the spy fell into her trap. She shivered a little as she struggled into her coat. Lying awake at night as she’d done so often during Hans’s illness had been exhausting, but working all night had brought a different kind of tiredness. She felt dizzy. She drank a full glass of water, expecting her body to be screaming for fluids after all the coffee during the night. With her purse strap over her shoulder and her cell phone in her pocket, she headed past the bathroom. There was no indication of last night’s events; she smelled nothing more than cleanser. Marianne pressed the elevator button, wondering if she’d done the right thing not telling Olle about Lillemor Rootander. She’d called Torsten Ehn, who was wide awake, and asked if he could keep quiet about it. He told her he respected her decision and that he’d call after talking to the young woman’s family.
On the street, the usual rush hour traffic was under way. She breathed in the morning air and decided to walk home. Surprised at her decision, her feet seemed to move with a will all their own. She enjoyed the exercise after having been bent over paperwork almost the entire night. She passed the Klaraberg Viaduct and looked out over Sergel Square. The sun was starting to rise behind The House of Culture. The air was clear and cool, and she suspected that there might have been frost during the night. Her footsteps became lighter as she walked down Hamngatan. She smiled at NK’s display windows showing Nordic fashion designs. She wondered if Sigrid had seen them yet.
Norrmalm Square was being renovated, and she hurried past the noise of bulldozers and jackhammers. She looked into Richie restaurant, where two men in white uniforms were busy cleaning. They’d soon set the tables for the lunch rush. The former Smålandsgatan, which had been rechristened Ingmar Bergmans Gata, smelled: it appeared to have been used as a toilet by people walking out of bars the evening before. Nybrogatan was much more pleasant. Marianne appreciated that it was now a pedestrian walkway. In her opinion, more of the old streets in the innermost part of the city should be turned into pedestrian streets.
; Soon she found herself on Riddargatan, and she walked past the Army Museum just as the Hedvig Eleonora Church bells chimed nine. She headed up the hill toward Skeppargatan and peeked into the Riddar Bakery, thinking about whether to stop for a sandwich. The line was long, and she had to admit that her appetite was gone. She decided to just drink another glass of water once she got home and lie down. Drinking water was certainly a good way to lose weight.
She followed Riddargatan all the way to Banérgatan. She hesitated a moment and then went into the Ica Banér grocery store. She quickly found a carton of eggs, a grilled chicken, a package of green beans, and a huge piece of ox fillet.
Tired, but pleased that she’d walked home, she staggered into her apartment and kicked off her shoes. She called Sigrid and told her daughter’s answering machine about the night’s dramatic events. Then she headed into the kitchen and put away the groceries. She called Nina, who sounded tense.
“I’m just about to head out the door. We’re going to the archipelago. Robert and I decided to take a few days off.”
“How wonderful. You certainly deserve it.”
“How was work?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a shock working with all sorts of people instead of being alone all day.”
“Do you think you made the right decision to return?”
“We’ll have to see. I hope so,” she replied.
“What do you think Pappa would have thought? Would he have wanted you to go back?”
Marianne noticed tension creep into her body. She went on the defensive.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well? Did he give you any advice?”
“About how I was supposed to live my life after he died? No, he did not.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean he always thought you were good at your job.”
“I don’t know. If he had to choose, he probably would have told me to retire. He always preferred that I stay out of his world.”
“Maybe he just wanted to protect you?”
Marianne wondered if Nina really understood what she’d just said. She forced herself to bite her tongue. Nina knew nothing about Hans’s last moments or about the lies that had darkened their marriage. Marianne had been extremely careful to hide all the dirty laundry. She had asked Peder to keep Hans’s last words to himself, and as far as she knew, he hadn’t mentioned it to Nina. Marianne had never asked her children how much they knew about her marriage, and she had no intention of doing so now. She felt ashamed of her own part in the charade: not that she’d been lied to and rejected by her husband, but because she saw herself as a bad role model. What kind of mother was she not to stand up for herself and leave a bad marriage? Letting herself be the martyr was just as bad as her husband’s affairs. She didn’t want to pass this on to the next generation.
Nina cleared her throat and said, “I have to go. Robert’s honking the horn. I can call later if you’d like.”
“No, sweetie, you don’t have to do that. Enjoy your vacation and call me when you get back. Sigrid’s here if I need anything. Take good care of yourself, and say hello to Robert.”
“Thanks. Bye. Oh, Mamma…”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Sorry if I sounded upset. I haven’t slept all night. Bye, now.”
They hung up and, as usual, Marianne had to fight the unhappy feeling that things always seemed to go wrong between her and her firstborn daughter. She accepted the blame. She just felt that Nina always put her under a microscope. Not that Nina didn’t have the right to criticize her—that was part of a mother-daughter relationship. Marianne should be able to handle it. But she seldom could, and she hated herself for it. Her eyes were too tired to fill with tears, and she stifled a sob in her chest. She hoped Nina knew that she loved her. She quickly visited the bathroom to brush her teeth. Then she fell into bed. Thank goodness her curtains blocked the sunlight.
Finally, she fumbled for her cell phone, turning it off.
CHAPTER 64
He watched the man pack the children into the car. The man was yelling at the youngest girl, and she seemed downcast. As he got behind the steering wheel, he slapped it with both hands, then got out and ran back to the house. He threw open the door and strode inside. The man had probably forgotten his cell phone. When he slid back behind the wheel, he hit the gas so hard that the wheels of his silver Porsche smoked, reversing full speed onto the gravel road.
He watched the girls in the backseat, holding their backpacks. They looked sad.
His footsteps were silent as he walked to the front door, and then he stood still for a few minutes to make sure no one had seen him arrive. He had the key to the door in his pocket. He’d made a copy of it at the Mörby shopping mall. The cleaning lady had left it on the hallway dresser.
He put the key into the lock, pressed down the door handle, and opened the door. He listened for the familiar sound of the shower upstairs, but all he heard was silence. He sneaked into the kitchen to look around.
A teacup was on the counter. He touched its edge with his fingertip and then bent over to sniff the tea. A half-eaten ham sandwich was on a napkin next to the teacup. He looked at it with interest, then picked it up and took a bite. Silently, he drank a large sip of tea. It was sweetened with honey and reminded him of his grandmother. The cup clattered more than he’d intended as he set it down. He looked up toward the second floor, but there was no sound up there. He suspected that she wasn’t home. But he didn’t dare go upstairs to make sure: perhaps she was just sleeping in. He wouldn’t want to disturb her. She’d need her sleep for what was to come.
He sneaked back to the entryway and closed the front door behind him. The husband, as usual, had forgotten to set the alarm. This gave him more freedom to come and go during the day. He pulled his bicycle from the thicket and looked around to make sure nobody saw him riding away.
CHAPTER 65
Marianne didn’t remember falling asleep, but she woke up confused—and enormously hungry. Her clock showed she’d slept just over four hours, and she decided she’d have to be content with that. She sat up on the edge of the bed and rolled her shoulders. Fortunately, they no longer felt so sore. When she pulled up the shades, the sun shone directly on her face. She blinked as she opened the window. She liked a little bit of street noise. Her dinner with Lola would be at seven o’clock, so she had plenty of time to get ready. Her cell phone showed five missed calls, four of them from Torsten Ehn. The fifth showed a number she didn’t recognize, so she called that one back first. A weak voice answered on the third ring.
“Lillemor here.”
Marianne gasped and swallowed hard before saying, “It’s Marianne.”
She didn’t receive a reply. “How are you doing?” she asked.
Lillemor made a strangled sound. “Sorry, not too good.”
Both women fell silent, and Marianne held her tongue so she wouldn’t start chattering out of sheer nervousness. That was not her role in this conversation.
“I’m very sorry for what happened yesterday. I…I don’t know what got into me.”
Marianne couldn’t hold back. “Perhaps it was something you ate?”
“Yes, a bad shrimp, right?”
They both chuckled a little. Marianne said, “I want you to know I didn’t mention it to Olle.”
She wondered whether Lillemor realized that Torsten Ehn and Augustin Madrid had also witnessed the event. She figured Lillemor probably didn’t remember that they’d been present.
“Thanks. Yes, in my medical report, you were the one who called for an ambulance.”
“Are you still at the hospital?”
“No, they let me go home. I’ll be on sick leave for a while.”
“I see.” Marianne realized her tone sounded snotty, so she hurried to say, “That’s probably a good i
dea. I was actually worried about you.”
“Yes, that must not have been a pretty sight. Well…that’s all I wanted to say. Thank you for your help.”
“Don’t worry,” Marianne said. “Call me if you need anything else.”
“I will,” Lillemor replied.
After they hung up. Marianne wondered how Lillemor would find help for her problem. Would she attend a program for alcoholics or go to rehab? Well, it wasn’t any of her business. Her thoughts were still darting around in her head when she called Torsten Ehn. He picked up on the first ring.
“Ehn, here.”
“Yes, Marianne Jidhoff.”
“Oh, damn. I’m sorry I called so often. I didn’t realize you’d gone home to get some sleep. I’ve called Olle a few times, too.”
“Don’t worry. I had my phone on silent.”
“I can’t believe you worked all night. I’m impressed! I couldn’t hold out past midnight. Well, we’ve got more information, and I was hoping we could go through it all.”
Marianne wrinkled her brow, smiling at the same time.
“I didn’t intend to come in to the station today. I assumed you and Augustin could manage on your own.”
“We probably could, but I want your input.”
Marianne laughed. “Well, you’ll have to come here. Buy some coffee cake on the way over. I don’t have anything to serve you.”
“We’ll be there in an hour.”
Marianne shook her head and then charged her cell phone. Out in the kitchen, she turned on the coffee machine. She started to boil water, and when the water was ready she put two eggs into the pot. After five minutes, she reverently ate the eggs with a teaspoon of caviar on top. She didn’t realize how heavenly two eggs could taste. So simple and so good! Her coffee was just as delightful, and she relished the sensation of the warm liquid going down her throat. She realized she needed a shower, which would not only warm her shivering body, but was a high priority in case her body smelled.
A Small Indiscretion Page 26