The Lies We Tell

by Kristina Ohlsson

  I became serious.

  ‘They only do that in films,’ I said.

  We ate in relative silence. Relative, because Belle was playing at being a one-man band on her side of the table. She ate a surprising amount, and Lucy and I had to restrain ourselves from bursting out in celebration in front of her.

  ‘How did you get on with the preschool staff today?’ Lucy said as we were clearing the table. ‘You said you were going to check them out?’

  I admitted that I hadn’t got very far. And then I told her about Madeleine Rossander. Lucy listened attentively.

  ‘Good move,’ she said. ‘She’s trustworthy as well as very useful.’

  Madeleine and Lucy are very different. Something to do with maturity. I always think of Madeleine as being older than me and Lucy, even though she isn’t. We were actually born in the same year. But she has a depth, a solidity that neither Lucy nor I possess.

  I checked the mobile in my left pocket. No missed calls from Madeleine. Nor from the mysterious Susanne. In the other pocket was my other mobile. My normal one. The one I used to use before my life turned into an adult version of musical chairs.

  I put the plates in the dishwasher. Lucy rinsed the saucepans. Belle was feeding her doll with water. Then my old phone rang. Lucy and I both started. I took it out from my pocket. I recognised the start of the number on the screen instantly.

  ‘Hello, Martin, how are you?’

  Didrik Stihl’s voice exuded hearty common-sense. Even so, hearing it made me feel nervous. Any contact with Superintendent Stihl could only mean problems, or more bad news.

  ‘Fine, thanks.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. Listen, can you come in tomorrow?’

  I felt my heart lurch. Up to that point my visits to Police Headquarters hadn’t exactly contributed anything of great value to my life. And I had other plans for tomorrow. Because I was going to a funeral.

  ‘What am I suspected of doing now?’

  ‘Another murder.’

  I practically stood to attention.

  ‘Sorry?’

  But Didrik ignored me.

  ‘So we’ll see you tomorrow? Ten o’clock?’

  ‘Not a fucking chance,’ I said. ‘What the hell are you playing at? You can’t behave like this. Calling here and . . .’

  And what? Unsettling me. Getting me off balance. Making me panic. I forced myself to think sensibly. Didrik would never have called and said what he had if they had anything solid to go on. He wanted to scare me, trick me into saying or doing something stupid. He wasn’t going to win that easily.

  ‘Who’s dead?’ I said.

  ‘We can take that tomorrow,’ he said.

  ‘Wrong. We can take that now.’

  ‘Ten o’clock tomorrow morning,’ Didrik said. ‘Try not to be late.’

  I tried – as quickly as I could – to work out whose turn it was. Who else knew too much? Who else had to die?

  A name popped into my head: Elias Krom. The guy who had come to my office pretending to be Bobby. The guy who dragged me into this whole mess.

  ‘It’s Elias Krom, isn’t it?’

  I said it so fast that I just managed to get it out before he ended the call. I heard Didrik breathing down the line. He wasn’t going to get away with what he’d just done. Making nuisance calls to someone suspected of murder.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said.

  And hung up.

  8

  TUESDAY

  Just after one o’clock my phone rang again. Just like the previous night. The difference was that this time I wasn’t asleep when it rang. Instead, I was lying awake on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I was starting to become terrified of the nightmares that were plaguing me. Terrified because I was finding it more and more difficult to hold their origin at bay. The very grubbiest of secrets. So grubby that not even Lucy knew about it. If only we hadn’t gone to Texas. Then things wouldn’t have got stirred up the way they had been.

  And then there was the problem of the fresh impetus the police had found. I couldn’t deny that it was making me feel stressed. Lucy was lying asleep by my side. She kept stirring anxiously. When the phone started to vibrate on the bedside table she sat bolt upright in bed. Like a soldier who had lain down to rest in the middle of a battle and had been woken up suddenly.

  I have to admit that I gave my mobile a couple of hard stares before I finally reached out and answered it.

  ‘Yes?’

  There was silence at the other end. But only in the sense that no one was saying anything. I could clearly hear someone breathing. Even though she hadn’t said anything, I knew it was the same woman who had called the previous night: Susanne.

  ‘Tell me what the fuck you want or I’m hanging up.’

  I didn’t recognise my own voice. I had become a man without any slack. There was no longer any space for a pleasant tone. Nor for patience.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come yesterday.’

  So was I. But I also felt relieved. I had been worrying about what might have happened to her. In case I got blamed for it.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I couldn’t make it.’

  ‘Yes, I’d worked that much out for myself, that wasn’t what I asked.’

  ‘I didn’t dare. Okay? I chickened out. I didn’t dare meet you. Sorry.’

  It sounded like she was crying. Good. Because I have no respect for people who cry when they apologise.

  ‘Who are you so afraid of?’ I said.

  I didn’t really want to continue this conversation on the phone. Even though she had called the new number I had given her, there was a significant risk that it was already compromised.

  She was thinking the same thing.

  ‘Can I risk telling you over the phone?’ she said.

  It was a damn good question. The only thing I knew for certain was that I had no inclination whatsoever to set out on any more nocturnal excursions.

  There was a clattering sound, as if she’d dropped her phone.

  ‘All I know is what I saw,’ she went on. ‘Nothing else.’

  ‘When Mio disappeared?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  I wondered what the best way to proceed was. I was relatively sure that I wasn’t being watched. At least not to the extent that there were officers sitting in a car outside my home at nights eating takeaway food. But if they were listening to my calls, the problem was the same as it had been the previous night. It wouldn’t take them long to get to any place that Susanne and I arranged to meet. After a short pause for thought, I decided to sacrifice another phone but to refuse any invitation to meet.

  ‘I’ll give you another number to call,’ I said.

  When I put my mobile down and picked up a different one, Lucy touched my arm.

  ‘What’s going on, Martin?’

  ‘I think she’s got something to tell me.’

  Lucy looked at me thoughtfully.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  She got out of bed.

  ‘I’m thirsty. Can I get you a glass of water as well?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She walked out of the bedroom. I hated watching her go. I was seized by an unreasonable and pathetic terror that it might be the last I saw of her. It occurred to me that that was a significant factor behind the fact that we were now living together. That I couldn’t bear not knowing if she was still alive.

  The third mobile rang. We were regularly buying more and more. If I had to stop working as a lawyer I could probably get a job as a switchboard operator.

  ‘This time I want you to tell me everything over the phone,’ I said abruptly when I answered. ‘No more meetings until I know what you’ve got to say.’

  ‘I appreciate that you don’t trust me, but . . .’

  ‘I don’t trust anyone right now. Don’t take it personally, that’s just the way it is.’

  She fell silent. Or was browbeaten into silence, maybe. Either way, she didn’t say anything.r />
  ‘I don’t know where to start,’ she said eventually.

  I did.

  ‘Start with Bobby,’ I said. ‘How did you come into contact with him?’

  ‘He came to the Enchanted Garden. Angry and upset. The police had already been several times, and then he turned up some time later. He frightened a lot of the staff. They said they’d call the police if he didn’t leave.’

  Her words were coming more easily now.

  ‘Did he threaten the staff?’

  ‘Not directly. At least that’s how I saw it. I was a temp at the preschool at the time, they used to call if they needed me. I had a few weeks’ work there when Mio was placed with his foster parents, and then again when he went missing. I wasn’t working the day Bobby came to the school, I was only there to pick up a reference. That might be why I saw things differently.’

  ‘How do you mean, differently?’

  Lucy came back carrying a glass of water. She’d spilled some on her vest, making it partly transparent. That would have made me crazy with lust before, but now it didn’t bother me. Maybe that was what being a grown-up meant?

  ‘Like I said, all the others seemed frightened. But I just thought he seemed so sad. The look in his eyes was so unhappy, not at all wild or angry. When he had been driven out from the Enchanted Garden he sat in the car and wept. I saw him when I went out a little while afterwards. I . . . I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I gave him my phone number. He called an hour or so later.’

  I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to clear my thoughts.

  ‘Why did Bobby come to the preschool? And when?’

  ‘He came late last spring. It was like he couldn’t stop thinking about his dead sister and had figured out that he wasn’t going to be able to put what happened to her behind him. He said someone must have seen something. That he didn’t believe a child could just vanish the way Mio had done. He wanted to know why the staff were lying to the police.’

  Bobby had been thinking along the same lines as me. There’s always someone who saw something. Always.

  ‘Was that what they were doing, then? Lying to the police?’

  ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘But the police didn’t talk to everyone.’

  I straightened up.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It’s true. They didn’t talk to me, for instance. According to the rota, I’d already gone home by the time Mio disappeared, but they asked me to stay on in a different class when my shift was over. Those hours were accounted for separately. I assume the police didn’t notice that.’

  ‘So you were in the playground when Mio went missing?’

  I heard the woman who called herself Susanne clear her throat over the phone.

  ‘No. I was inside with one of the children. He had a cold and was running a temperature, and I had to wait until his mum came to pick him up. He was sitting on the floor playing with the Lego. And I was standing at the window, itching to go home.’

  I felt my pulse rate increase.

  ‘You were standing by the window? What did you see?’

  ‘The back of the preschool. There’s no playground there, just a car park and the loading area. The children can’t get round there because of the fence that keeps them out at the front.’

  My heart was beating even harder.

  ‘What did you see?’ I repeated.

  My voice sounded hoarse.

  ‘They came out of nowhere. I could only see them from behind, but I know it was Mio. I recognised his hat and coat. But most of all, his yellow wellington boots. He was walking beside a tall woman who was holding him by the hand.’

  ‘He was walking? She wasn’t carrying him?’

  ‘No, it didn’t look like she needed to. He knew her.’

  I couldn’t stay on the bed any longer and had to stand up.

  ‘Who was she?’

  ‘A girl, Rakel. She did some part-time work at the preschool up until the autumn Mio disappeared.’

  I tried to take in what she’d said.

  ‘And you’ve never told anyone this?’ I said, feeling myself getting angry.

  ‘No one ever asked.’

  Her defence was unexpectedly shrill. I changed tack.

  ‘What time was it when he went missing?’

  ‘Half past three. The police arrived at four. By then I’d just left.’

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Why in God’s name didn’t you sound the alarm when he was abducted?’

  ‘I didn’t know he was being kidnapped! Back then, everything to do with Mio was a bit odd. And Rakel had worked with us for a while. I was sure there was some logical explanation for why she was picking him up.’

  Conviction does funny things to people. They seem to become irrational, for instance.

  ‘Okay, but you must have heard the news on the television and radio?’ I said. ‘There was a national alert for Mio.’

  When Susanne replied it was in such a quiet voice that I could barely hear what she said.

  ‘I didn’t dare tell anyone what I’d seen.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘For the same reason I hardly dared call you. I’m scared something will happen to me.’

  ‘Have you been threatened?’

  ‘No. But . . . it’s complicated.’

  ‘That’s not good enough,’ I said.

  And that was when Susanne snapped. That was when the wretched tears started.

  ‘She saw me do something silly,’ she whispered.

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘Rakel.’

  ‘Something so silly you were scared she’d say what she’d seen if you said you saw her with Mio?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I sighed.

  ‘Okay, now I really am curious,’ I said. ‘What did you do that’s so terrible that you didn’t dare say you’d seen a child being kidnapped?’

  ‘I stole some things. One of the teachers was moving house and had been given permission to store some boxes in an empty office. I happened to see her digging about in one of the crates. She had some really nice jewellery in a little wooden box. I can’t explain why I did what I did. But I went back that evening and stole the box. And that’s when Rakel saw me.’

  A bird moved outside the window, far too close. I’ve hated birds ever since I was a child. The window was open and I gestured to Lucy to close it.

  ‘What was Rakel doing at work at that time of day?’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is that she saw what I did. She confronted me the next day. “I saw you stealing. Bear that in mind.” ’

  ‘Hang on – she said that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I was thinking out loud.

  ‘She didn’t say she’d tell the others that you were the thief? Because I can imagine there was a hell of a fuss once the theft was discovered.’

  ‘There was. I hardly dared accept any more work there.’

  Why hadn’t Rakel told either the police or her colleagues that she had witnessed the theft? That struck me as important, the fact that for some reason she didn’t want to reveal that she’d been at the preschool at the same time. Or she simply didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

  ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Susanne said. ‘But . . . I really needed the money. So I sold all the jewellery. I actually got quite a good price for it. It solved all my problems.’

  Solved her problems and created a load of new ones, I thought. Her actions also prompted a lot more questions. Far more than I felt I had time to ask.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m still having trouble understanding your behaviour,’ I said. ‘Did Rakel do anything else to scare you into keeping quiet?’

  Susanne hesitated for a while before answering.

  ‘It was just as she was about to go out through the gate of the car park with Mio,’ she said. ‘She stopped under one of the streetlamps. Then she turned round, almost as if she knew I was watching her. She looked straight at me. And then she raised her hand and put one finger t
o her lips. I swear – if looks could kill, I wouldn’t be here today. I was so frightened I darted away from the window. And I didn’t say a word to anyone. Because I knew something terrible would happen to me if I did.’

  I thought for a while. There were gaps in the logic of her story; we would have to talk again, several times.

  ‘Even though you were so terrified, you evidently carried on working there,’ I said. ‘And despite the fact that you were the thief. Didn’t you feel any shame?’

  ‘The preschool had been told to make big cutbacks. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t want me any more, that they’d have to get rid of all the temps. But then they offered me a longer contract. I couldn’t afford to turn it down.’

  The words came so easily to her. She couldn’t afford to turn it down. Couldn’t say no. Things ended up the way they did. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken to someone who took so little responsibility for things.

  ‘You said nothing to anyone,’ I said. ‘Until Bobby turned up at the school. Then, all of a sudden, you decided to talk to him.’

  ‘It wasn’t until I saw him that I realised what I’d done. I couldn’t live with that. It didn’t matter how frightened I was – I had to tell someone. So I told him. After that we stayed in touch. He told me he’d gone to the police, but that they hadn’t believed him, and said I’d have to go myself. Then I got scared again. The next time Bobby called he mentioned your name. He told me you’d be getting in touch with me. But you never did. In the end I called Bobby. A man answered, said he was a police officer. He told me Bobby was dead. Then I hung up.’

  I sighed.

  ‘Have the police been to see you yet? They could have traced your call if they wanted to.’

  ‘Hardly. I made the call from an unregistered pay-as-you-go mobile. Like I’m doing now.’

  It was my turn to fall silent.

  ‘Susanne, what do you want me to do with this story of yours?’ I said after a while. ‘You won’t tell me what your real name is. And you don’t want to involve the police.’

  ‘There must be some way you can use what I’ve told you anyway!’

  ‘Come on, tell me your name, for God’s sake. I know it isn’t Susanne.’