He ignored the question. “The evening Durban was killed you had a disturbance here, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. And the only reason I remember it is because of the flashing blue lights. That sort of thing isn’t normally a problem. But no one gets off scot-free.”
“Did the trouble start before or after you saw the emergency vehicles?”
“Oh God, I’ll have to think.” He munched peanuts and licked his lips. “Before, I think.”
“Do you know what caused the disturbance?”
“Drink, of course. Peddik had too much. I had to ring for the Black Maria, even though I hate doing it. I pride myself on dealing with things myself, but that evening it didn’t work. He went completely off the rails in here, I’m no doctor, but I think it was something akin to the DTs.”
“But was he usually boisterous?”
“A bit excitable, no doubt about it. But several of them were. They were pretty loud the whole lot of them. Primus was one of the quieter ones in fact, occasionally he would rumble a bit, like one of those small earthquakes in San Francisco, the ones that make glasses in cocktail cabinets tinkle. It was rare that anything came of it. He came in his car too, drank Coke or Seven Up. Always did the paperwork when they were playing tournaments.”
“So our people took this Peddik in?”
“Yup. But afterwards I found out they changed their minds.”
“Einarsson pleaded his case.”
“Hey, can you really do that?”
“Well, even we are open to reason. There’s nothing better than social networks, you know. We’ve got too few of them. You didn’t catch anything? During the trouble?”
“Oh yes, I couldn’t help it. ‘Fucking women,’ and that sort of thing.”
“Problems with women?”
“Doubt it. Just a lot of alcohol, and then they go for the most obvious thing. His marriage probably wasn’t of the best, well, that’s why they come here after all, isn’t it?” He pulled a toothpick from a little barrel on the bar and scraped his pristine nails. “Do you think there’s a connection between the two killings?”
“I’ve no idea,” Sejer said. “But I can’t help wondering, because as I sit here looking down the street, I can almost see the block of apartments Maja lived in. Almost.”
“I know what you mean. A gorgeous woman she was. Just how girls should look.”
“Did she come here often?”
“Nope. She was too refined for that. She popped in occasionally, just to down a quick cognac in record time and rush out again. I doubt she had much leisure. Hard-working girl. Kept going all the time.”
“The men who come here must have talked about it a bit?”
“Maja’s murder was like a fresh cowpat in here and they buzzed around it for weeks. People always indulge themselves.”
Sejer slipped down off the barstool. “And now they don’t come anymore?”
“Oh yes, they drop in, but there’s no system now. They don’t come together. They just have a couple of halves and leave again. I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, “I really should have offered you a drink.”
“I’ll save it till later. Perhaps I’ll pop in sometime for a beer. Are you a good cook?”
“Come along one evening and try our Schnitzel Cordon Bleu.”
Sejer went through the door and was brought up short by the bright daylight. The cook was at his heels.
“There was a copper here before, after Durban was killed. A sort of English dandy with a handlebar mustache.”
“Karlsen,” said Sejer smiling. “He’s from Hokksund.”
“Oh well, I shan’t hold that against him.”
“Did you notice if any of them disappeared during the evening and came back again?”
“I knew you’d ask that,” he grinned. “But I can’t remember the details now. They were always shooting in and out, and it was six months ago. Sometimes they’d nip out to the seven o’clock film showing and come back again, sometimes they’d eat at the Peking, but have most of their drinks here. Occasionally Einarsson would go out and get some coffee, which I don’t sell. But that precise evening, I’ve no idea. I trust you’ll understand.”
“Thanks for the chat. It was pleasant anyway.”
On his way home he pulled up at the Fina service station. He went into the shop and took a Dagbladet out of the rack. A pretty girl with fair, curly hair was behind the counter. A plumpish face, with cheeks that were round and golden, like freshly baked buns. But as she wasn’t more than seventeen, he held all but his paternal feelings in check.
“That nice suit you’re wearing,” he said, pointing, “is just like the one I’ve got at home in my garage.”
“Oh?”
“Have you any idea if they come in children’s sizes?”
“Er, no, I haven’t got a clue.”
“Is there anyone you could ask?”
“Yes, but I’ll have to make a phone call.”
He nodded and opened his newspaper while she dialed a number. He liked the smell in the Fina shop, a mixture of oil and chocolate, tobacco and petrol.
“The smallest size is for ten-year-olds. They cost 225 kroner.”
“Could you order me one? Smallest size? It’ll be a bit large perhaps, but he’ll grow into it.”
She nodded, he placed his card on the counter and thanked her, paid for his paper and left. When he got home he took a packet of ready-made soup out of the freezer. He wasn’t very good at cooking, Elise was always the one who’d done that. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered anymore. In the old days, hunger had been a stimulating pang in his stomach, which sometimes grew into a wild anticipation of what Elise might have waiting in her saucepans. Now it was more of a growling dog that he threw a biscuit to, when it got really noisy. But he was good at washing up. Every day without fail throughout more than twenty years of married life, he’d washed up. He sank down at the kitchen table and ate the soup slowly with a glass of fruit juice. His thoughts wandered and ended up at Eva Magnus. He searched for something he could use as an excuse for visiting her again, but found nothing. Her daughter was about the same age as Jan Henry. Her husband had left her, and had certainly never met Maja Durban. But there was nothing wrong with having a talk with him anyway, because he would undoubtedly have heard of her. Sejer knew that the daughter spent every other weekend with her father, so he probably lived locally. He tried to recollect his name, but couldn’t. However, he could find that out. Just to be on the safe side; you could never tell. A new name on the list. And he had plenty of time.
He finished his meal, rinsed his soup bowl under the tap, and went to the phone. He rang the club and booked a jump that Saturday, unless it was too windy, he stipulated, because he couldn’t abide wind. After that, he looked up the name Magnus in the phone book, allowing his finger to run slowly down the list of names. Just as he’d known it would, the name jumped out at him as soon as he saw it: Jostein Magnus. Civil engineer. Address: Lille Frydenlund. He went back to the kitchen, filtered a large cup of coffee, and made for his chair in the living room. Immediately Kollberg came and laid his head on Sejer’s feet. He opened the newspaper, and halfway through a glowing report on the EU, he fell asleep.
9
Emma was back home again. It was a relief. Eva had no more thoughts to think, she’d merely gone over the same ones again and again, so it was better to have the girl around, with all the hurry and fretting that entailed. Now it was just a case of waiting. She took her daughter’s hand, her plump, soft hand and led her out to the car. She hadn’t said a word about the pink school bag that was waiting at her father’s; it was to be a surprise. She wouldn’t rob him of those shrieks of delight, his life had few enough of those already. Emma got into the back of the car and did up the seat belt herself, she was wearing a brown trouser suit which suited her quite well, and Eva had helped her with her hair. Her father lived some distance off, well over half an hour’s journey in the car, but after only five minutes Emma began to whine. Eva became irritated. Her nerves were at full stretch, she couldn’t take much more.