‘But the fox will get them,’ Reilly fretted.
‘Of course. That’s his nature.’
‘We could cover them up. Or bury them.’
‘The fox would sniff them out,’ Axel said. ‘You know that.’
Reilly admired the kitten in the cake tin. A grey and white ball of fluff on a chequered tea towel. A small furry miracle.
‘You do the talking,’ he mumbled. ‘You know best.’
Axel rang the number of the hospital where Jon had been a patient for four weeks. His voice was filled with concern while he explained what had happened.
‘We got up at nine,’ he said. ‘And discovered that his room was empty.’
CHAPTER 4
While they waited they wandered up and down the forest paths.
Reilly studied Axel and the way he walked. He strode around energetically as though rehearsing for a performance he was about to give. The role of the calm but concerned friend of Jon Moreno.
‘I might have been able to pull him out,’ Reilly said. ‘If you hadn’t stopped me.’
Axel dismissed it. ‘Jon would have fought you,’ he said. ‘Besides, he was wearing a reefer jacket and thick lace-up boots, and you were wearing a knitted jumper as thick as a coat. We were a long way from the shore. We would not have been able to save him. It would have been impossible to lift a man into such a small boat, you would both have drowned. Shut the gate after you,’ he added. ‘There are sheep grazing here. I can hear bells.’
Reilly closed the gate with a twisted loop of wire. With heavy footsteps he followed Axel. The lake lay to their right, with its calm and black surface, and Jon lay on its bottom, his lungs full of water. Then he remembered the kitten and it all churned inside his head, the kitten and Jon, the kitten and Jon.
Philip Reilly was almost two metres tall and quite lean. He had long, sand-coloured hair which he left to grow as it pleased and he wore a full-length coat with big pockets.
‘If I owned an orchard, you could get a job as a scarecrow,’ Axel quipped.
Reilly did not react.
It was all right with him if Axel thought he looked like a scarecrow, he was not bothered. Besides, he was angry. He kicked the earth, sending sand and soil flying around his legs. Jon, he thought, Jon my man, Jon my mate.
‘Don’t take me down with you,’ Axel said. ‘I’m no villain and neither are you. You need to learn to look towards the future and you need to learn to assert yourself.’ He gestured forcefully. ‘Breathe out,’ he said. ‘And keep moving. Be a shark, for God’s sake.’
Reilly did not reply. There was not much to say and it was fine that Axel was doing all the talking.
They had reached an old, rotten fence.
‘Something’s hanging on the fence,’ Axel said. ‘An old swimming costume. Do you see it?’
‘It’s mouldy,’ Reilly said. ‘Leave it alone.’
‘A swimming costume,’ Axel repeated.
It was yellow with black stripes. He snatched it and pulled at the elastic material.
‘It’s a wasp costume,’ he said.
He kept pulling at the swimsuit.
‘Can you imagine it, Reilly? A giant wasp cruising around the beach, scaring the living daylights out of everyone.’
‘Jon is dead,’ Reilly said. ‘Stop messing around. We’re not kids any more. What is wrong with you?’
Axel returned the swimming costume to the fence.
‘You can cry,’ he said, ‘or you can play ball and save your life.’
Axel Frimann walked on. Whether you were male or female he was undeniably a joy to watch. His supple limbs were perfectly coordinated, his arms swung from his shoulders and his hips controlled his legs. He moved forwards with flexibility and elegance, at once lazy and purposeful. Reilly followed at a distance, his hair fluttering in the wind, his coat-tails flapping like a sail. His head did not know what his legs were doing, and he scrambled down the path as if someone had put boots on a bundle of logs.
Axel started listing the good intentions which had motivated them originally. What had followed was bad luck, pure and simple, and beyond their control. In a moment of weakness they had been tricked by one of nature’s whims.
Axel talks and talks, Reilly thought. I’ve never had any goals or a purpose, but I’ve never hurt anyone. Now I don’t know what to believe any more.
Axel placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Repeat is the biggest advertising agency in Norway,’ he said. ‘I earn 750,000 kroner a year. I’ve waited for a job like this my whole life and no one is going to take it away from me.’
Reilly threw open his arms as though he was hanging from a crucifix.
‘This will never end,’ he objected. ‘We’ll have to live with it for the rest of our lives. And I don’t know if I can manage that.’
‘You can,’ Axel said. ‘Because you’re not an old woman like Jon.’
Reilly was a man of peace, but he saw red. He ran back to the cabin and stormed into the kitchen to check on the kitten. It was still breathing.
CHAPTER 5
The cars were parked diagonally in a row on the grassy bank by the cabin. The sun was higher now and reflected in the windscreens. The fire brigade had turned up with two divers and an orange rubber dinghy on a trailer, the Red Cross with a dog and a search and rescue team. The dog was an Alsatian, sturdy and shaggy with black, intelligent eyes. The police had sent two men. Konrad Sejer was an inspector, and he had a striking presence. He was tall and slim with thick grey hair and lined features. Jacob Skarre was considerably younger with blond curls. The grass was crowded with men and women and Axel went to meet them. He was a man overcome by grief and anxiety, his voice carried on the wind. You could detect traces of anguish and vulnerability in it. Reilly studied the performance. He was impressed, but he had seen it before. Axel could put on a good show and it cost him nothing.
‘We got up at nine and discovered that he was gone,’ he said. ‘It was a shock. He was in such a bad way.’
The inspector shook his hand. The handshake made Axel Frimann gasp.
‘You’ve looked for him?’ Sejer asked.
Axel nodded. ‘We walked across the sheep fields and we called out for him. But all we found was an old swimming costume and it can’t be Jon’s. But we’re more worried about the lake.’
He pointed in the direction of Dead Water.
Reilly stayed silent. It felt strange to hear these lies. As though they had pushed Jon out of the boat and were now covering up their crime. He examined Sejer and Skarre. Their names when spoken in the same breath sounded like a hedge trimmer, he thought. Even though they were face to face with the law and lying through their teeth, all he could think about was the kitten in the cake tin. It baffled him. It had taken root in his heart. It had attached itself there with its claws. I need to get high, he thought.
‘Which one of you called the hospital?’ Sejer asked.
‘I did,’ Axel said. ‘I called the ward.’
‘He had been given permission?’
‘Until Sunday evening. We’re old friends. We picked him up yesterday afternoon. We thought the change might do him good.’
Skarre took a step forward.
‘Do you happen to know the name of his doctor?’
Axel and Reilly looked at each other. ‘Now what was it?’
‘Wigert,’ Axel said. ‘Hanna Wigert.’
Skarre noted it down. He seemed bright and energetic, or as Axel would have put it, eager to please. He raised his eyes towards the black lake.
‘He might have gone for a walk,’ he said calmly. ‘A walk in the woods can do you good when it all gets too much.’
There was something about his eyes, something critical, which signalled that he would not allow himself to be deceived and would not automatically believe what they told him. Reilly grew nervous. The hedge trimmer could come down on them at any moment.
‘We’ve been up since nine,’ Axel said. ‘He would not have gone far on his own. He scares easily.’