Black Seconds Part 22

'Do you deny this?'

Emil battled with the throat pastille. 'No,' he said. The answer was loud and clear.

Sejer felt a rush of relief wash over him. 'That's good,' he said. Perhaps this silent man wanted to tell his side of the story. If he could do it on his own terms.

'Ida was a lovely girl,' Sejer went on. 'I mean, all girls are different. But Ida was particularly lovely. What do you think, Emil? Wasn't she lovely?'

He nodded eagerly in agreement.

'There are people who would like to get their hands on a girl like that if they could. And use her. For their own purposes. Do you understand what I'm talking about now?'

301.

He studied Emil closely and registered that his glance evaded him a little.

'Do you understand what I'm talking about?'

Sejer repeated.

Emil nodded once more.

'But she visited you on several occasions. She kept coming back to you. That must mean that you were nice to her. Still I have to ask you this question, which I know you'll find difficult. Did you ever hurt Ida?'

'No!' Emil Johannes said. Suddenly his body became restless. His hands began fidgeting, touched his throat, fiddled with his s.h.i.+rt collar before disappearing back under the table and ending up on his knees. He started rubbing the fabric of his trousers with his palms. 'No!' he repeated. With a kind of righteous indignation, Sejer thought. He reminded himself that the man was a giant compared to Ida, who was tiny; that he might not always be in control, not always know his own strength. He reminded himself that this man, who appeared to be simple, might not be all that stupid and might even possess a certain talent for acting. He could have become an expert at keeping people at a distance by behaving like an enigma. Sejer leaned forward on a sudden impulse.

'Were you and Ida able to talk to each other?' he asked.

'No, no,' came the reply. This was followed by a violent shaking of the head.

No, I didn't think so, Sejer thought, scratching his neck.

302.

'And if I ask you,' he continued, 'if there is anything at all that took place between you and Ida that you feel bad about?'

Emil considered this for a long time. An awfully long time. Sejer waited patiently. This man did not want to rush. This man took everything that had happened very seriously. He wanted to give an accurate reply. However, now he hesitated. All this time his thoughts were scanning his memories. Sejer could tell from the rapid move ment of his eyes that they were roaming an inner landscape.

'No,' he said finally. This time, however, the 'no'

was less forceful.

But she was dead when we found her, Sejer thought. Her abdominal cavity was filled with blood. Her body had been frozen. Why don't you feel bad? He reclined in his chair for a moment. Glanced at Emil. Allowed his huge shape to fill his entire field of vision; he was genuinely perplexed.

'You really are a riddle, Emil.'

Emil nodded; he agreed completely.

'And you like being one!' Sejer declared. Finally Emil gave him a broad, contented smile. He had few ways to communicate his thoughts. He did not know sign language and he stared nervously at the pen and notepad placed in front of him on the table. Eventually he picked up the pen and started playing with the cap. Then he put it down again. He sat waiting, quietly, but he did not cooperate. He was defensive, but at the same time he did have 303 rights. A solicitor had been appointed, but was unable to a.s.sist him much. My client is incapable of expressing himself, he stated, knowing no more than anyone else about who Emil was and what he might or might not have done. Sejer was convinced that Emil was guilty. However, he could not work out what his motive might have been. Was being different reason enough?

Experts declared that Emil clearly belonged to the autistic spec trum to such an extent that it had held back his development. Did Sejer have the right to rush through the interrogation stage of the case purely because Emil was an oddball and might not need a motive at all? Deep down he was scared that he might be missing something. He wondered if there was something he had misunderstood.

'Your mother bought the nightie, Emil. I'm not wrong, am I?'

Emil looked away and clammed up like an oyster. He's protecting his mother, Sejer thought. This is impossible: he wants to explain himself, but he's afraid he'll cause problems for her. He has too many considerations. And too few words. Sejer rested his head in his hand. This was a unique situation. They sat like this, in silence, during most of the interrogations, Sejer hoping that a miracle would happen if only he sat there long enough. Sooner or later Emil would talk. Though he had no reason for thinking so. Did he not long for freedom? Did he not want to go home to Henry the Eighth? He seemed very determined, just like his mother. Of 304 course, she was the most expedient route to under standing his story. But he was not prepared to let her go on talking day after day without knowing her son's version. It might differ from hers. The most likely scenario was that Emil had killed Ida and later called his mother so she could help him hide the body. Together they had panicked and put her in the freezer while they worked out their next move. But why hide her so well to begin with, only to place her by the roadside later where she was bound to be discovered quickly? It seemed messy. The bicycle in one place and Ida in another. Where were her clothes and the red helmet?

He reminded himself that human beings did not always act in ways that were easy to understand or even rational. People often acted on impulse and justified their actions retrospectively.

'Did you drive out to Lysejordet to leave Ida by the roadside?'

No, Emil had not driven out to Lysejordet. Every time he had given an answer, he awaited Sejer's next question. At times his eyes were relatively sharp. He was observing Sejer secretly; he took in the room; he listened, tilted his head when ever something happened out in the corridor. From time to time he nodded briefly to himself as if he was making a mental note. Sejer believed that Emil wanted to tell his side of the story, but without losing the dignity he had acquired by rejecting speech.

'I think you're protecting your mother,' Sejer 305 said. 'You're scared she'll get into trouble because of what's happened. I can understand that. She has always helped you. At the same time I do believe that you want to tell me what happened.' He looked into Emil's grey eyes. 'Am I wrong?'

'No,' Emil said. The corner of his mouth quivered slightly and his fingers wriggled in the air in front of him. He became aware of it and composed himself. Now his hands formed a knot on the table. Sejer had an idea. 'If your mother told me everything that happened, would I have a true picture of the situation?'

Emil looked up quickly. 'No, no,' he said hurriedly.

'So there's something she has misunderstood?'

He nodded.

'That's very interesting,' Sejer said. 'Great that you're nodding, by the way. You don't like admitting to anything. Don't like saying yes. But sometimes it's really important. I'm scared that I'll make a mis take, you see. I'm a fairly good police officer,' he added immodestly, and this made Emil burst into a spontaneous smile. 'But even though I'm good at my job, there are times when I need help.'

He looked at Emil closely. 'Like you needed help. When you realised that Ida was dead.'

Later on, the bird crossed his mind once more. Henry the Eighth might be sitting all on its own chatting away to itself in Emil's living room, hidden 306 away under a towel. Perhaps it had run out of food and water. It was his responsibility to make sure that the bird was cared for. Perhaps they could keep it at the station. Astrid Brenningen, the receptionist, could look after it. It was supposed to be very easy, according to Elsa; after all, even Emil had managed it.

It was just coming up to 11 p.m. when he let himself into his flat. Kollberg raised his head and looked at him. The lamplight reflected in his dark eyes, but he did not get up. Sejer took the leash down from its peg on the wall. Kollberg was torn, keen to go with him and keen to stay in.

'You've got to,' Sejer muttered. 'You need to relieve yourself. It's about the only thing you're able to do these days.'

They pottered around quietly in front of the apartment block, long enough for Kollberg to flex his stiffening joints and work up a limited amount of body heat. Sejer thought, you can't speak either. Nevertheless, we've understood each other perfectly all these years without any problems. We com municate without words, because I don't expect you to use any. I understand you through other means. I have to access different parts of myself to read your signals. I sit directly opposite Emil and try to work out what he is saying. His body is huge and mighty, it sits so still, but it speaks volumes all the same. I can tell from the healthy colour of his skin that he spends much time outside; his face is weatherworn, his eyes are grey, like mine, a little paler perhaps. 307 He's quite well groomed; he washes and combs his hair. His clothes are clean because his mother washes them. He's proud, he has self-esteem. He's healthy and his body is strong, presumably. He's in a difficult situation, but he's not making a fuss. He doesn't complain. He sits still and waits. Waits for me to guide him through the story. I can see in his eyes that there are times when he's scared, excited or on his guard. He doesn't look par ticularly guilty. Doesn't look like a man who would a.s.sault anyone. I can't ignore the fact that Ida was an attractive child. Can't ignore that Emil is strong. There's rage inside all of us, and there's desire too. Had Emil a.s.saulted Ida? Had she started to scream and he had panicked? What had he done to her fragile body that caused her such severe internal injuries that she died? Sejer stopped because Kollberg had stopped. He was sniffing something on the hillside. It looked like a sparrow and it appeared to have been dead for some time. On the surface it looked undamaged; however, when Kollberg flipped it over with his nose, Sejer saw that it was badly decomposed. Instinctively he flicked the bird into the ditch with the tip of his shoe. He yanked the leash, wanting to move on. It was close to midnight. He thought of the quiet time ahead of him by the window in his flat, in his favourite chair, with the dog at his feet. And a generous measure of whisky. A moment he always made time for. A ritual estab lished years back. A single cigarette, which he rolled himself. A carefully selected CD from the shelf. 308 Sipping his whisky quietly while he day dreamed. Let his eyes wander over to the photo of Elise. Think about her, think good thoughts about her. What am I going to do, it suddenly dawned on him, when the dog's gone and I'm sitting in the empty living room on my own? I'm too old to get a puppy. Sara, he remembered. Please come home soon. It's so quiet here. He looked at Kollberg and felt ashamed. Here I am imagining that you're dead already. The dog had acquired that gauntness often a.s.sociated with old age; his coat was too big for him.

Quietly Sejer walked back. Stood immobile on the living room floor watching the dog try to settle in his usual spot by his chair. It was a wretched sight. A sinking feeling of despair started in the pit of Sejer's stomach. The dog moved in slow, rigid circles around his own body. Then he started to lower himself to the floor, shaking a little, somewhat unsteady. His hind legs first, then his front paws. It was clearly painful for him to move from standing to lying down. After a protracted and clumsy manoeuvre he was finally lying down. His large head was the last part to be lowered. An infinitely deep sigh then followed; as though he was taking his final breath.

I can't allow this to go on, Sejer thought. He instantly looked the other way. He could not bear to look his dog in the eye.

309.

CHAPTER 28.

Elsa Mork used her strength to maintain a feeling of control. She had slept, eaten and given herself a good talking to. She held her head high and for her age she was a fit woman, but she was reaching the end of her life nonetheless. She knew this. Besides, she possessed a strong inner sense of decency. Yet still she fought against the inevitable. Losing her reputation would cause her great pain. She stared closely at Sejer in order to convince herself that he really would believe her if she told him the truth. Or be able to understand it. And the extent to which he would judge her. He was a kind man. This baffled her. When he had arrived on her doorstep with the nightie in the carrier bag, she had felt such fear. In here it was different. She had not felt threatened by him, not for one second.

'Are you just as kind to Emil as you are to me?'

she asked on impulse. The next moment she blushed.

'It's easy to be kind to Emil,' Sejer said. 'He's a very charming man.'

He was being completely sincere as he said this. 310 Elsa felt that she believed him. She suppressed a sob. Gulped as if she was swallowing something too big too quickly. She could cry later when no one was looking. She controlled herself.

'Tell me about Emil,' Sejer said. 'What makes him angry?'

She watched him for a long time.

'Well,' she said bitterly, 'I do when I turn up with my mop. Though he doesn't really get angry. He sulks. Thinks there is no need for cleaning.' She thought about her son and felt powerless. Because he was out of her reach in a way he never had been before. She was used to entering his house whenever she pleased. Now she could neither take care of him nor control him.

'No,' she said, 'I don't think he ever gets angry, to be honest, but then he never sees anyone. If his three-wheeler refuses to start, he just gives it a puzzled look. Then he starts to fix it with great patience. Everything practical such as nuts and bolts he handles really well.'

'But if you think back. His whole life. Since he was a child. Do you recall anything that made him angry?'

She bit her lip. Thought of the nightmare that haunted her. Imagined the condemnation that would follow; she was convinced that telling Sejer about the incident was handing him on a plate precisely what he was looking for. Evidence of frenzied, destructive rage. Nevertheless she started talking to him. In the midst of everything, Elsa had to acknowledge that 311 she was receiving a level of attention she had not experienced for years. And she was getting it from a man. It was the first time she had tried to put the incident into words, and she stuttered slightly.

'He was eight years old,' she recalled, 'and he was playing outside in the yard. We lived in a small house out at Gullhaug. Emil was quite stubborn even when he was little. Getting him to do as he was told wasn't easy. But he was also very fearful. He was scared of the chickens, can you believe it?' She smiled as she said this, and Sejer smiled back at her.

'Our neighbour had a puppy,' she said, 'a beagle I think it was. It had escaped from their house and strayed into our yard. I saw it from the window. Emil just froze when the puppy suddenly came running up to him. It jumped straight up at him, wanting to play. He tried to shake it off, but it was no use. He twisted and turned, but not a sound came out of his mouth. I was standing by the window ironing s.h.i.+rts and soon realised that I would have to go outside and rescue him, but I was feeling annoyed too, I admit it. Most kids would welcome a puppy with open arms. But not Emil. He started kicking it.' She groaned. 'He was wearing heavy boots, that was all he ever wanted to wear, you'd think he was worried something would happen to his toes . . . well, anyway, he started kicking it. He kicked it quite hard.'

She slumped as she recalled the scene. The images made her feel nauseous. 'The puppy ran off and lay trembling on the ground,' she said. 'Suddenly I 312 couldn't move and I began to feel terribly scared. But he didn't stop kicking it. It was like he was having a fit of madness and I was trying to snap myself out of my trance, but I kept holding on to the iron and could hardly believe my own eyes. The puppy flew off all over the place and Emil ran after it, kicking it and jumping on it with all his might. I felt so cold,' she said, her voice quivering. 'Never in all my life have I seen anything like it. When I finally went outside, there was practically nothing left of it. I got a plastic bag from the kitchen and shovelled the puppy into it. Then I buried it in the garden. I said nothing to Emil, I didn't know what to say, I couldn't even look at him.'

She rubbed her face in despair. 'Our neighbour never knew what happened to his puppy. I raked dry sand over the blood on the ground and took Emil inside. I pretended it had never happened. But ever since then,' she said, and finally she had the courage to look him in the eye, 'ever since then I have had a kind of power over Emil. Because I had seen him. Since that day he has done everything I've told him to.'

Sejer digested this story in silence for a while. He did not like what he had just heard.

'In other words, he gets angry when he feels threatened or scared,' he said eventually. 'And he's scared of many things. He defends himself with great rage.'

'We're talking about a puppy,' she said weakly.

'Maybe that's not important,' he said, consoling 313 her. 'People are scared of all sorts of things. Haven't you ever seen normally sensible adults lose it completely if a wasp flies into the room?'

Elsa had to smile.

'But surely Ida was no threat to him?' Sejer said, mainly to himself. Elsa was startled. Shook her head in disbelief, tried to follow where he was going. Everything was happening so quickly now. She wanted to pull back, but it was too late, so she just wailed: 'I don't know! I wasn't there when it happened. And he couldn't tell me!'

The room fell utterly silent. Slowly she realised what she had just said, and it surprised her that she felt less anguish than she had been antic.i.p.ating. This is where we were heading all the time, she thought. I must have known it from the beginning; I just pretended not to understand.

'Tell me what you saw,' Sejer asked.

Slowly she gave up. She surrendered to the truth. Her story followed, stumbling and faltering, but he did not for one moment doubt that she was telling him the truth.

'Sometimes I visit Emil unannounced,' she confessed. 'I admit I do it on purpose. To check up on him. And now you know why. So that's what I do. It was a long time ago. Several months, I think. He got very agitated when I suddenly pulled up in front of his house. There was a girl standing outside. She was feeding the bird. When the weather's mild Emil sometimes takes the cage outside so Henry the Eighth can get some fresh air and some suns.h.i.+ne. I 314 was very concerned. I thought of how rumours would fly if anyone saw Emil with a little girl. I asked her who she was and where she lived. She said she lived in Gla.s.sverket. She told me she had been out on her bicycle and had heard the bird sing. I don't even know if Emil really took any notice of her; it was like they were each doing their own thing. She was busy feeding the bird, he was tinkering with his three-wheeler. I told her to go away and not come back. She did not reply. Finally she gave me a defiant look and then she smiled. But she left on her bicycle and I never saw her again.'

Elsa s.h.i.+fted in the chair. 'Not until that awful day,'

she whispered.

'So you don't know if that was the first time Ida was there?' Sejer asked.

'I didn't ask. And you know he can't speak. It was the only time I surprised them like that. It troubled me, but I pushed it out of my mind. Then one evening I was watching the news. The second of September. The photo of the missing girl. I recognised her at once. It was the girl who had visited Emil. That's just a coincidence, I told myself, but I was worried. So worried that I didn't even dare drive over to check. Not until the following day. Then I went over to wash his clothes. That's why I go there,' she added, 'and to make sure that everything's all right. But that day, the third of September, I was going there to do some was.h.i.+ng. I called him first. He was impossible on the phone. He often says "no" when I ring him to tell him I'm 315 coming over, but I just ignore it. However, on that day he was different. Scared. Desperate almost,' she recalled. 'I became suspicious. And then nervous,'

she admitted, 'because you never know with Emil. And I was so worried about the missing girl. So I left the house to do my ch.o.r.es at Emil's and to find out if anything was wrong.'

She gave Sejer a look of anguish across the table.

'He had locked his front door. And put something gooey in the keyhole. I don't know what, chewing gum perhaps. I tried unlocking the door with my own key, but it was no good. I drove back to get some tools I could use to force the door. I was so scared,' she said, 'that everything I'd always feared had finally happened. So I simply broke down the door; I didn't care about anything any more. Not the door, which was badly damaged, or the neigh bours who might be watching me. When I finally got into the kitchen, he was behaving strangely. He was so defiant and sullen. I noticed that his duvet was on the sofa and thought, why on earth doesn't he sleep in his bed? And there was such an odd smell everywhere, an absolutely awful stench. I wanted to go into his bedroom, but he wouldn't let me. I tried to open the door, but that too was locked.'

Now she was pressing one hand to her chest and her body slumped in the chair. 'I was so frightened,'

she said. 'I couldn't understand what he was hiding from me. I demanded that he unlock the door. I said, I know you, I know when you're in trouble and you are right now! I had to force the door with 316 a crowbar. And when the door sprang open and I saw what was on his bed, I nearly fainted.'

She pressed her lips together and clapped her hand over her mouth as if to prevent any more words from escaping. Sejer sat completely still, waiting. She carried on.

'I recognised her straight away. But I could not understand how she had ended up on Emil's bed. She looked untouched; there were no injuries, no blood, and yet she was dead and I started screaming. I couldn't control myself. Emil Johannes put his hands over his ears and screamed too; he was screaming "no, no" like he always does. I feel dizzy,' she said suddenly. She flopped against the table.

'Have a rest,' Sejer said. 'Take a deep breath and rest for a while.'

And she did. Sejer waited. He imagined the terror she must have felt. It was obvious that a shock like that would make someone act irrationally. He understood her panic and despair. However, he decided that she must also be a very strong-minded woman to have gone ahead with her plan. She had acted despite her fear, panic and distress. Cool, calm and collected.

'I took off her clothes,' Elsa went on. 'Her chest was completely destroyed, as if someone had kicked her, and I looked at Emil because I realised that he must have kicked her, but he denied it. He said "no, no" and I couldn't understand why he would have done it either. She was a lovely little girl. Just like 317 the one I always wanted,' she sobbed, 'when I was younger. And never got. I just got a big, sullen boy who wouldn't talk. Who never wanted to be with anyone. And now he had dragged this girl into his house and kicked her to death just like he kicked that puppy, and I just did not understand why!'

She was silent once more. Sejer tried to picture what Elsa had just told him.

'I knew I'd never get an answer from Emil, so I decided to act quickly and not even try to under stand why; all I knew was that I had a son who was different. And that something dreadful had hap pened. He had disgraced himself and me and I couldn't bear that. Not now when I'm old and my days are numbered. All I've ever wanted is to go to my grave without a stain on my character,' she cried. 'I've kept an eye on him and looked after him all these years so that this would not happen. And now it has.'

'Tell me what you did,' Sejer said.

'I needed time to work out what to do,' she said.

'I shouted at Emil; I said, now you'll do as you're told and no moaning, because if anyone finds out about this it'll be the end for both of us. You'll go to prison, I screamed, and so will I. So now you'll help me, even though you never have before. He was acting so strangely,' she recalled. 'He was standing so straight, like a statue, and I just couldn't understand why he wasn't more distraught than he was. Oh, he was upset all right, but it wasn't like the incident with the puppy. He looked confused. As if 318 everything that had happened made no more sense to him than it did to me. He just shut himself off and I didn't have the strength to probe him for an explanation. Her clothes had to go. They weren't all that clean any more,' she said, looking up at him, 'and the smell was really bad now. I found Emil's summer duvet and wrapped her in it. I asked him to clear out the freezer in the bas.e.m.e.nt. There was hardly anything in it, so that didn't take long. The only thing that mattered was that no one must know. I had to get everything right, had to hide every clue that would lead you to Emil. He carried her downstairs to the bas.e.m.e.nt and placed her in the freezer. Then he disappeared up the stairs,' she recollected, 'while I shut the lid. When I came back up he was rocking himself backwards and forwards in a chair and the bird was making a racket and most of all I wanted to hurl it out of the window to shut it up. Stop its constant piercing screams. It was like the end of the world,' she wailed. 'Emil, silently rocking in his chair, the stench in the house and the screaming bird. I wanted to shut it all out,' she admitted, 'but I couldn't.'

She reached for the bottle of Farris mineral water and began turning it on the table. Perhaps she was thirsty. However, she did not have the strength to lift it and fill her gla.s.s, which was next to her. The information from her brain failed to reach her hand; she just kept on turning the bottle. Carefully Sejer took it from her and poured. Finally she drank the cold mineral water.

319.

'I realised that we had to get her dressed again. Something new, with no traces of us. I didn't want you to find her naked. I was thinking of her mother, how awful it would be for her. Eventually I went back home. I decided to buy her a nightie. It's silly when I think about it now,' she said with a bitter smile. 'If I'd gone to Lindex or H&M you never would have found me. Those shops are always packed and the staff are young girls. They hardly notice the customers. But I went to Olav G. Hanssen,' she said, 'because that's where I usually go. Later I went back to Emil's, even though it was late. I just didn't trust him not to do something. But he was still sitting there in his chair. I said, we'll arrange it so they'll find her, but we have to wait. It must be planned carefully. Then I remembered her bicycle. They said on the television that she was riding a yellow bicycle. Emil had hidden it at the back of his house. A red bicycle helmet hung over the handlebars. We carried it downstairs to the bas.e.m.e.nt. The next evening after dark I simply took the bicycle and left it somewhere. It had to be found a long way from our house. I dumped it behind a substation where I knew it would be found quickly. Then we waited some days. I buried the helmet at the back of the house, in a flowerbed. That's where you'll find it,' she said, looking up, 'below a broken bas.e.m.e.nt window.'

Sejer made a few notes and it seemed as if she was pleased that everything was written down exactly the way she told it. She waited politely while he 320 finished, then she carried on just as doggedly as before.

'I kept putting it off. It was just impossible for me to open that lid again. As long as she was in the freezer, everything was all right. We couldn't see her or smell her. I could almost make myself believe it was nothing but a bad dream. And all the time you were waiting and waiting. I kept thinking about her poor mother and I realised that we would all feel better once Ida was found. So she could be buried. Opening the freezer was a shock. She was completely stiff under neath the duvet. Emil came over and wanted to stroke her cheek; he got very upset when he realised she was ice cold. I couldn't get her into the nightie,' she said. 'I hadn't consid ered that. So we had to wait until she had . . . well, you know, loosened up a little. It took a long time. Several times I was close to breaking down. Then we dressed her. It was terribly hard work. I thought of all the things you would discover, all the clues we might leave behind. I kept hoovering. Then we wrapped her in the duvet once again and taped it up. Emil carried her out to my car late at night. He waited at home in his living room while I drove out to Lysejordet. It was midnight. I placed her by the side of the road.'

She was silent. Her face had a vacant expression as though all emotions had left her. 'But I remember one thing,' she added. 'I thought she looked very nice in that nightie.'

She had nothing more to say. She lowered her head, 321 the way people do when they are awaiting sentencing. She was done with it all. Drained of emotions and pain. But Sejer knew that it would all come back to her again. Every night, perhaps, as a terrifying night mare. Right now, though, she was empty. And he said nothing of what lay in store for her.