by Thomas Enger
‘What does that look like to you?’ Weedon asked and pointed to a yellowish colour on the screen, and something that looked like the picture of a car. Yngve leaned in closer and squinted. It was the letters of a logo.
It said TAXI.
He stood up suddenly.
‘He’s a cab driver.’
‘Certainly looks like it.’
Yngve knew quite a few cab drivers in Fredheim, but right now there was just one that came to mind.
‘Excellent work, Weedon,’ Yngve said. ‘Really. Top notch.’
‘Thanks, boss.’
66
It was nine o’clock in the evening before a doctor came and told us that Tobias’s treatment was successful – that he was going to be fine. A psychiatrist had been monitoring him for a few hours too, and they’d decided he would have to stay overnight, maybe even a couple of nights, for further observation. The most important thing was that he was alright and that there was no permanent damage to his brain or any of his other organs. Mum was so relieved that she sobbed and gasped all at once.
At first, Tobias didn’t want to see us, but an hour later, after Mum had nagged and begged anyone in a uniform, we were allowed in to see him. We were under strict instructions not to pressure him to talk about what he’d done.
When we went into the room, he was half sitting, half lying in bed. He was as pale as I’d ever seen him. He fiddled with his covers, and he didn’t want to meet our eyes. His room was small with white walls and a square mirror above a white porcelain sink. It was as unfriendly and harsh as it could possibly be.
At first Knut and I just stayed in the background. Mum needed to speak first.
She carefully walked up to the bed. ‘Hi,’ she said in a whisper.
Tobias kept his eyes trained on the cover. Mum leaned forwards and gave him a hug. He let her kiss him on the cheek, on the forehead, on his hair, before pulling away, irritated. Mum apologised and sat down on the bed. Put her hand to his cheek. Dried a tear from her own.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked quietly.
Tobias shrugged. Still didn’t want to look at her – or at Knut or me. She pushed the hair back from his forehead. The overhead lights made it gleam.
I could tell that Mum had a thousand questions for him, that she had to fight not to blurt them out all at once. Instead she produced a volley of inane comments, things that only got a yes or a no reply. She told him how GP was and then started on some silly story about one of her co-workers at the children’s clothes shop.
When she finally ran out of stupid things to say, I asked if I could have two minutes alone with him. Mum was reluctant at first, but she agreed – as long as I promised to be gentle with him. I said yes of course I would be, not knowing if I’d be able to stay true to my word.
When I finally had my brother to myself, I said: ‘I owe you a door.’
Tobias frowned at me. I explained what had happened. He didn’t seem particularly interested.
‘You owe me a Playstation controller, too.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like shit,’ he said.
I nodded.
He seemed angry. With himself? Or with the doctors who’d treated him? Or me, just because I was there? Or maybe he was simply angry at the world. It wasn’t easy to tell.
‘Is there anything you need?’ I asked. ‘A glass of water or something?’
He shook his head.
There was a chair beside the bed, so I sat down. His hair was greasy, but the spots on his face seemed to have dried up a bit. I didn’t know how to ask the questions I needed answers to, but I had to do it, some way or another.
‘We’ve been in touch with the police,’ I said. ‘They won’t come by today.’
Tobias looked down at the bedclothes again. I didn’t know what he was looking at – his eyes were vacant.
‘But I think you can expect some company tomorrow. One thing they want to know is why you wanted to talk to Mari on the night she was killed.’
I heard a man shouting somewhere in the hospital. Once, and then again.
‘I know about the texts you sent her.’
Tobias put his hands together, started to pick at his nails.
‘You know you have to answer, don’t you?’
‘So we’re there again, eh?’ Tobias said. His voice was calm, quiet. ‘You playing detective?’ He said it with contempt in his voice and without looking at me.
‘Why is it so strange that I want to know?’ I asked.
Tobias still didn’t want to meet my eye. He just let out a big sigh. T hen finally he said: ‘I’d helped her find some pictures of you. For the story about you and Dad.’
He explained the context, and I nodded. I already knew Mari’s motives for going behind my back like that.
‘I met her a week ago, something like that. You were at football practice.’
‘To give her the photos.’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That’s all you did? You gave her the photos, and then you left?’
‘We talked for a little while, too.’
‘What about.’
‘You know, stuff.’
‘What kind of stuff?’
‘I don’t know. School stuff. At some point there she starting talking about blood types.’
‘Blood types?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Are you fucking kidding me? You were talking to Mari about blood types?’
‘She’d been studying them in school.’
‘I know that. But why did she talk to you about it?’
‘She wanted to know if I knew our dad’s.’
I looked at him. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really.’
‘Why did she want to know that?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You didn’t ask?’
‘I just thought she needed it for her story.’
‘Huh.’
I was missing something here. I just didn’t know what.
‘So you found out.’
‘Yeah, I asked Mum.’
‘And then you told her. You told Mari.’
‘I did.’
‘When was this?’
‘Three or four days ago, maybe. Friday perhaps.’
I just looked at my brother for a few seconds. Once again I asked him what he’d been doing at the show that night and why he’d been in contact with Mari. It took a long time before he answered.
‘Mum had discovered that some of her photos of you and Dad were missing. You know what Mum’s like, how obsessed she can get. So I wanted to get them back before all hell broke loose at home.’ Tobias paused. ‘That’s why I went to the show. To talk to Mari. I couldn’t get hold of her, she wasn’t answering my texts. So I went in and found her. She said the pictures were in that school newspaper room, but that she couldn’t get them for me then, because she was working. She said I could just go in there and get them myself.’ He paused for a beat. ‘The room was locked, so I borrowed her keys. But I couldn’t find those fucking pictures, so I thought I’d catch her again after the show. I went outside to wait for her. But she never came out. I stood there for ages, waiting.’
‘So you…’ I couldn’t get my thoughts straight.
‘I had her keys,’ Tobias said. ‘I’d forgotten I had them – I’d just put them in my pocket when I couldn’t find the photographs. And then when she was dead, I…’ He opened his hands. ‘I fucking panicked,’ he said. ‘I knew how it would look.’
‘So where are the keys now?’
‘In a drawer in my room.’
‘God, Tobias.’
The police must have found them, I thought. And they must have drawn their own conclusions.
I was relieved and angry at the same time. Relieved that there was an innocent explanation why Tobias had been at the school that night – why Børre Halvorsen had seen him in the wind
ow, and why Tobias had had Mari’s keys. Angry because he hadn’t told me before. It could have saved us a lot of worry and heartache.
I asked why he hadn’t said anything. Again, it took some time before he answered. ‘I liked Mari as well, Even. She talked to me in a proper way, not like…’ He glanced to the side. ‘I didn’t want anyone to think that I had…’ He stopped himself.
We sat there in silence for a short while. I thought about Mari. The last day had been all about finding Tobias, about getting answers. Now she filled my head again, and I realised how much I missed her. There was so much I wanted to ask her. Tell her.
‘There’s something else, though.’
Tobias licked his lips. He looked like he was steeling himself. I felt uneasy again.
‘After I talked to Mari that night at your school, I went outside to wait for her.’
‘You’ve told me that already.’
‘I know, just hang on a minute. As I was standing there – it must have been quite a while after the show had ended – I … I saw Knut drive in and park his car.’ Tobias nodded at the door, as though I hadn’t understood who he meant.
‘What the hell was he doing there?’
‘To begin with, I thought he was just waiting for a fare, thinking people might need one after the show. But he just sat there.’
‘You didn’t go over?’
Tobias scoffed. ‘I barely speak to him at home,’ he said. ‘What would I ask him? How he was? How many fares he’d had that evening? I don’t give a fuck about Knut, you know that. After a while, though, he went inside.’
I swallowed. ‘What time was this?’
‘I don’t know. It was starting to get late, and most people had gone home. I’d been standing there waiting for so long, and it was starting to get cold, so I thought, to hell with the photographs, they can wait till tomorrow or another time. And then I went home.’
‘What about the iPad you stole?’
He seemed to have forgotten that small detail for a moment, but then he nodded.
I tried to digest what my brother had just told me. ‘So, you’re saying that Knut went into the school building not long before Mari and Johannes were killed?’
Tobias took a deep breath. ‘That’s what I’m saying, yeah.’
67
NOW
‘How well did you know your mother’s boyfriend?’
Ms Håkonsen has sat down again. She is leaning forwards on the table, eyes seeking mine.
‘I wouldn’t say that I knew him at all, really. He was full of surprises – that’s for sure.’
‘How so?’
‘That chill pill he gave my mother, for instance.’
‘Chill pill?’
‘I don’t really know what kind of pill it was. I hadn’t thought he was the kind of guy who had sedatives just lying about. I just thought he was someone who never said much, and basically did whatever my mother wanted him to. But maybe he was kind of secretive too.’
The prosecutor seems to give this some thought.
‘When your brother told you that Knut had gone into your school that night, what did you think? Did you think Knut might have been the killer?’
‘That was my first thought, yes. And my second and third thoughts as well, to be honest.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Well, it was the same day my mother had slapped me when I suggested that maybe Mari had been killed because of something she’d discovered about Dad’s car accident. I wondered if Mum knew something about that, and if Knut did too, and wanted to protect my mother somehow.’
‘So, you thought he’d killed Mari to stop her talking? To keep her from revealing whatever she’d discovered about the car accident, maybe even about your mother?’
‘That’s what I thought, yes. Apparently he’d been in love with Mum since high school.’
‘And according to your own statement just now, you thought Knut would do whatever your mother wanted him to.’
‘Yes.’
Ms Håkonsen waits a few seconds. Then: ‘Did you think, at that time, that your mother might have put him up to it?’
‘I didn’t think that then, no. I was more worried about what was going to happen to me.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because right after I’d spoken to Tobias at the hospital, Mum wanted Knut to drive me home.’
68
THEN
‘It’s school day tomorrow,’ Mum said. ‘You need to get some sleep.’
‘Yeah, but…’ I didn’t know what to say.
‘Of course I can drive him,’ Knut said. ‘But what about you?’
‘I’ll stay here,’ Mum said. ‘I’m not leaving Tobias.’
I looked at my brother. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of Mum staying, but, like me, his options were limited.
It was a strange feeling, to be standing in a room with three people who I, at some point during the past few days, had been or still was suspicious about, at least when it came to the murder of my ex-girlfriend. The weirdest part was that they were all family – or, in Knut’s case, almost. I wasn’t sure at all how I felt about any of them. Tobias’s explanation did make sense, but there was something odd about it all the same. I couldn’t understand why it was so important for him to get the photos back for Mum. He didn’t really care about our mother. He didn’t care much about anything. On the other hand, it had been a while since anything my brother did made much sense to me, so why should this be any different?
‘OK,’ I said carefully. Then to Tobias: ‘You’ll be alright?’
He nodded.
‘Sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Alright,’ I said. ‘See you.’
Then Knut and I left.
We didn’t say a word to each other on the way out to his car. Just walking beside him made me uneasy. I wondered if he had Johannes Eklund’s microphone case hidden away somewhere. Maybe even in his taxi.
I sat in the passenger seat and put on my seatbelt. Knut drove like a priest, religiously sticking to the speed limit.
We’d been driving for about ten minutes, when he said: ‘I’m actually glad it’s just you and me right now.’
I turned towards him.
‘I thought maybe we could talk.’
With everything Tobias had said fresh in my mind, Knut’s voice sounded colder. More calculating. As though he’d been waiting for this moment.
‘About what?’ I said and coughed into my palm. Knut wasn’t big or strong, but I knew that he ran a lot, which meant he was fit. If he was angry enough – or thought he had enough reason – I had no doubt that he’d be able to kill someone.
‘Your mother and I, we…’ He paused, then carried on: ‘You know we’ve been together for a while now.’ He paused again before continuing. ‘And we … we’ve been thinking about moving in together.’
My jaw dropped.
‘Or rather, that I move in. With you.’
I didn’t know what to say.
Knut carried on: ‘It’s probably a bit unexpected, and I know you have other things on your mind right now, but, given what we talked about earlier today, I think it would be good for your mum. To get some help with … whatever.’
We were out on the motorway now. Cars sped past us.
‘Just … think about it’, he continued. ‘And talk to your brother about it too, of course, when you get a chance. We won’t do it if you think it’s a bad idea.’
I wanted to ask what the hell he was doing at our school that night, but I just couldn’t get myself to do it. I don’t know if I was afraid of how he would answer, or if I was scared what Knut would do if I confronted him. I didn’t really know anything about this man. Would his true self appear somehow?
Neither of us spoke the rest of the journey. Not until he pulled up in front of our house. Then something made him stop.
‘What is it?’ I said. Then I followed Knut’s gaze, and saw it, too.
On our front door, in b
lack spray paint, someone had written:
MURDERER
‘Fuck,’ I muttered and scrambled out of the car.
I wasn’t sure which one of us the message was referring to – my brother or me. Or maybe even my mother.
Knut turned off the engine and got out as well. We walked to the front steps. I touched the letters on the door. The paint was dry.
Børre had been a tagger. Was this some kind of message from his friends?
‘Do you have some paint?’ Knut asked me.
‘Yeah, I think there might be some left over from when we did the house this summer.’
‘Go get it. Susanne can’t see this.’
‘You don’t need to help me,’ I said. ‘I can do it myself.’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ he said. ‘But I’d like to help you all the same.’
It didn’t take us long to give the door a fresh coat. I took a few steps back and looked at it. From a distance it was still possible to see the contours of the letters.
‘Fucking bastards,’ I muttered.
Knut wiped some paint off his hands with an old rag. ‘You need to paint it again tomorrow.’
‘I know,’ I said.
He came over to me and stood by my side for a few moments. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I better get going.’ He started to walk towards his car.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘For…’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Knut said. ‘Soon this will all be over. I’m sure the police have some solid leads they’re working on.’
69
For a long time Fredheim had had its own dairy factory, but after years of running at a loss, the whole thing had been bulldozed and replaced with an apartment building that consisted of four almost identical flats, all grey and square, completely free of ornament. It was basically a box of rooms. Every apartment had a west-facing balcony, so the tenants could enjoy the afternoon sun. Whether Knut Anthon Meyer did that or not, Yngve had no idea, but he knew that Knut lived on the third floor, in apartment C301.