The buxom Sofie had been bustling about, now she stood with a bag of peanuts in one hand while she rooted in a cupboard for something to put them in. Sejer couldn’t abide peanuts.
“But I haven’t a clue who he was. There was a picture in the paper” — he struck a match, puffed hard a couple of times and exhaled — “but even though we live in a small town, I didn’t know him. Nor did Eva.”
“Eva?”
“She saw him close up, in a manner of speaking. Even though he wasn’t particularly recognizable just then, well, I thought that was why you’d come. Because she found the corpse, she and Emma. It was rather scary, but we’ve talked it over. My daughter and I,” he added. “She’s here every other weekend. I believe she’s finally forgotten it now. But you never know with youngsters. Sometimes they hold things in out of consideration for us grownups.”
He’d got his pipe alight at last. Sejer stared into his effervescing drink and for once was at a loss for words.
“Your ex-wife — found Einarsson’s body?”
“Yes. I thought you knew that. After all, it was she who rang and notified you. Isn’t that why you’re here?” he said in surprise.
“No,” said Sejer. “It was an elderly lady who phoned us. Her name was Markestad, I think. Erna Markestad.”
“Oh? Then there were probably several people who phoned, in the confusion. But it was definitely Eva and Emma who found him first. They phoned the police from a phone box, Emma told me the whole story. They were out walking, on the path by the river. They often go there, Emma loves it.”
“Emma told you about it — but did Eva?”
“Er, no. She didn’t actually mention it right away. But we’ve talked about it since.”
“Isn’t that a bit strange? Of course, I don’t know how much you talk, but...”
“Yes,” he said quietly, “I suppose it was strange. That she didn’t mention it herself. We talk quite a lot. Emma told me about it in the car coming here. That they’d gone on a walk by the river, just as that poor man came drifting into the bank. So they rushed off and rang from a phone box. Afterwards they had a meal at McDonald’s. That, by the way, is Emma’s idea of paradise on earth.” He chuckled.
“Didn’t they wait for the police?”
“No, seems not. But...” There was silence for a moment around the table, and for the first time Jostein Magnus looked as if he was doubtful. “But it’s not right of me to sit here giving things away about Eva. And talking about what she says and doesn’t say. She’ll certainly have her reasons. Perhaps you had several phone calls, and only one was recorded. Or something.”
Sejer nodded. He’d managed to think things through a bit now, and his face had resumed its normal expression. “Yes, he was drifting in the middle of town. There must have been several people who saw him. And it can be pretty hectic at the station now and again, especially just before the weekend. I must admit it can become a bit confused.”
He lied as plausibly as he could and wondered about the strange coincidence. Or was it a coincidence?
He carried on a polite conversation with Magnus for as long as he thought necessary. He took small sips of his drink, but didn’t touch the peanuts.
“So now you’ve got two unsolved murders?” He squeezed out a drop of glue, and stood by with a knee-joint of thin plywood.
“Yes, that’s right. Sometimes it happens that no one has seen or heard a thing. Or they don’t think it’s important. People are either so keen on publicity that they bombard us with every kind of suspicious circumstance, or they’re so frightened of making a fool of themselves that they decide to keep quiet. The serious informants in between are really quite few. Unfortunately.”
“This is an Anatosaurus,” he said suddenly and with a smile, lifting the dinosaur. “Twelve meters long. Two thousand teeth, and a brain the size of an orange. It could swim, too. What a thing to meet in the forest!”
Sejer smiled.
“You know,” Magnus continued, “these prehistoric monsters have invaded our society to such an extent, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them suddenly bit off our chimney.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve got a grandson of four.”
“Well,” Magnus concluded, “I imagine Eva has given all the help she could. They were close friends after all. They would have killed for each other.”
Maybe they would, Sejer thought. Maybe they just would.
By the time he got into his car and Kollberg had finished his extravagant greeting — as if he’d been to the South Pole and back since last they’d met — he knew that Magnus would have already dialed his ex-wife. This was a nuisance, he thought. He would rather arrive unexpectedly. Even so, she wouldn’t have much time, it would take him fifteen minutes to drive from Frydenlund to Engelstad. He ought really to have checked with the desk sergeant first, to see if she actually had phoned but for some reason it hadn’t been logged. But he didn’t think such an error could have occurred. Every police officer worth his salt knew that it wasn’t uncommon for the culprit themselves to telephone, so they always asked for a name and address. If it was withheld, the conversation was entered into the duty register as anonymous, with the date, time, and sex. He drove on relentlessly and didn’t even momentarily succumb to the temptation to ease down a bit. Perhaps even now he could reach her in the middle of her conversation with Jostein Magnus, while she was still floundering, trying to work out a serviceable explanation. After all, he thought, who finds a corpse in the river, shrugs their shoulders, and goes to McDonald’s for a meal?
For interest’s sake, he picked up his mobile and dialed the number of the household he’d just left. He got the engaged tone.
As he turned into the street he saw the darkened house and the empty drive. The car wasn’t there. He sat at the wheel for a while swallowing his disappointment. Well, he registered with relief, the curtains were still up, so she hadn’t moved, at any rate. He put the car in gear and drove out on to the main road again, glanced at the time and decided on a lightning trip to the cemetery. He often liked to stroll there, see how the patches of snow were shrinking, and begin to plan what he would plant in the spring. Maybe alpine primulas, he thought, they’d go well with the violet crocuses which were just about to come out, if only they could get the tiniest bit of warmth.
The church was large, ostentatious, and brick red, confidently lording it over its surroundings on a hill above the town. He’d never liked it particularly, it was a bit too strutting for his taste, but there was nowhere else to bury her. The headstone was of red thulite, and the only inscription was her name, Elise. In somewhat large letters. Dates had been omitted. That would have made her one of many, he felt, and she wasn’t. By pushing gently into the earth with one finger, he caught sight of the first yellowish-green shoots, and that cheered him. He stood for a moment and peered down the slope; at least she had company. The most lonely thing in the whole world, he thought suddenly, was a churchyard with only one stone.
“What do you think it’s like lying here, Kollberg? D’you think it’s cold?”
The dog stared at him with black eyes and pricked up his ears.
“There are cemeteries for dogs now, too. I used to laugh at them, but all things considered, I’ve gradually changed my mind. Because now you’re all I have.”
He stroked the dog’s great head and sighed heavily.
He walked back to the car. On the way he passed Maja Durban’s grave, which was completely bare, apart from a bunch of dry, brown heather. It should have been removed. He bent down quickly, gathered the dried remains in his hands, and scratched the ground before the headstone so that dark, damp earth was visible. He threw the heather in the compost bin near the water pump. Then he drove off again, and on a sudden impulse he headed toward the station.