“Everyone can,” Eva said. “It’s circumstances which dictate. And they don’t step over either — they stray over. They don’t see it until they’re on the other side, and then it’s too late.” It is too late, she thought in astonishment. I’ve stolen a fortune. I really have.
“I socked someone at work once,” her father said all at once, “because he was malicious. A really rotten character. Afterwards he showed me real respect, as if he acknowledged the fact. I’ve never forgotten it. It’s the only time in my life I’ve ever hit someone, but just then it was totally necessary. Nothing else in the world could have soothed my fury, I felt that I’d have gone mad if I hadn’t given him one, it was as if my brain was seething.” He took a few sips of wine and smacked his lips thoughtfully.
“Aggression is fear,” Eva blurted out suddenly. “Aggression is always really just self-defense, in one way or another. A method of defending oneself, one’s own body, one’s own intelligence, one’s own honor.”
“There are people who kill merely for gain.”
“Yes, of course, but that’s something different again. The woman in the paper certainly wasn’t killed for money.”
“In any case, they’ll get him soon. One of the residents in the block saw the car. I think it’s so funny, the way their cars always give them away. They haven’t even got the sense to use their damn feet when they go off to commit their awful crimes.”
“What did you say?”
“Didn’t you see that bit? He hadn’t realized it was important. He’d been away until this morning. But he’d seen a car go around the corner at high speed, early in the evening. A white car, not entirely new. Probably a Renault.”
“A what?” Eva dropped her knife on her plate so the gravy splashed.
“A Renault. A special model that’s not very common, so they thought it would be easy to find him. These car-registration places are good, it’s just a matter of searching for everyone with that type of car and visiting them one by one. And then they have to produce an alibi, and God help the ones who can’t. Clever stuff.”
“A Renault?” Eva ceased chewing.
“Yes. Elderly taxi driver, knew about cars. Lucky it wasn’t some old woman, they can’t tell the difference between a Porsche and a Volkswagen.”
Eva prodded her broccoli and felt her hands shaking. What a nuisance, she thought, talk about a blind alley! “He could have made a mistake. Think of all the time they’ll waste!”
“But they haven’t got anything else to go on, have they?” her father said in a surprised voice. “Why should he make a mistake? He knows about cars, that’s what they said on the radio.”
She gulped at her wine and tried to conceal her despair. Could a Renault really resemble an Opel? French cars looked so completely different. Perhaps he was some fool who wanted to seem important. She thought of Elmer and how happy such a ridiculous observation must be making him, he must have heard it, he was probably glued to the radio during the news bulletins and was even now rubbing his hands with relief, it was enough to make you weep.
“D’you want mousse for pudding?” she said abruptly.
“Yes, if I can have coffee as well.”
“You always do!”
“Yes, yes,” he said disconcerted, “it was only a joke!”
She got up and cleared the table, there was a clatter and clash of plates and cutlery, she’d have to do something about this. It was her fault that he was still free, they could have got him already if she’d told the truth. Now perhaps they’d arrest someone else. She placed a cigar next to her father’s glass and rinsed the plates. Afterwards they ate their mousse in silence, it stuck to her father’s upper lip like white foam and he licked it off with great relish. He glanced at her now and again, he’d adopted a slightly lower profile. Perhaps, he thought, it was a bad time of the month. When she’d settled him on the sofa, she went to wash up. First she stuffed four hundred-kroner notes into his jam jar and hoped that he didn’t know exactly what his financial resources were. Afterward, they sat next to each other on the sofa, sleepy from the food and wine. Eva had calmed down.
“They’ll get him all right,” she said slowly. “There’s always someone who’s seen something, who’s just a little slow off the mark, but they come forward eventually. Nobody gets away with that sort of thing. The world isn’t that unjust. It’s difficult to keep quiet as well, perhaps he’ll confide in someone when he’s drunk or something like that. A man who’s capable of killing like that, in anger for example, who’s that unstable, he won’t be able to control himself for the remainder of his life without giving himself away. And then he’ll have to confide in somebody. Who’ll go to the police. Or perhaps they’ll offer a reward, and then someone or other will rush out and report him, some greedy type.” Her own words stuck in her throat. “What I mean is, somewhere there’s a person who feels responsible for seeing that right prevails. People are just a little slow, that’s all. Or they’re scared.”
“No, they’re cowardly,” mumbled her father sleepily. “That’s the point. People are cowardly, they only think about their own hide, don’t want to get mixed up in anything. It’s nice you’ve got such faith in justice, my dear, but it’s not much help. To her, I mean. No one can help her anymore.”
Eva made no reply, her voice would have broken. She drew on her cigarette.
“Why did you thump that man?” she asked suddenly.
“Who?”
“The man at work, the one you were talking about.”
“I said. Because he was malicious.”
“That’s no answer.”
“Why did you go into such hysterics when Mrs. Skollenborg died?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you about it some other time.”
“On my deathbed?”
“You can ask on your deathbed, and then we’ll see.”
Night was coming on. Eva thought about Elmer and wondered what he was doing. Perhaps he was sitting staring at the wall, at the pattern of the wallpaper, at his own hands, as he marveled at the way they could live their own life like that and act beyond his control. While Maja lay in a refrigerated drawer, without consciousness, without a single thought in her cold head. Eva had no thoughts left either, she poured more wine and felt them fade away into a mist she could no longer penetrate.
29
The morning arrived, misty and breezy, but the mist cleared as they were having breakfast. The radio murmured in the background. Eva listened with half an ear, which suddenly pricked up. It was the news. A man had been detained in connection with the killing. A fifty-seven-year-old bus driver with a white Renault. They both listened, ignoring their food.
“Ha!” said her father. “He’s got no alibi.”
Eva felt her heart sinking. The suspect admitted to having bought sex from the victim on several occasions. Not surprising, there were lots of them, they had virtually besieged Maja for two years. She could see his future falling apart now, this innocent bloke, perhaps he had a family. She thought: it’s my fault.
“Wasn’t it just what I said,” said her father triumphantly, “they’ve got him already.”
“It all sounds a bit too simple to me. Just because he’s got that make of car and no alibi. And anyway, there’s no law against buying sex. In the old days,” she said raising her voice, “men weren’t men unless they visited a brothel.”
“My goodness,” said her father, glancing up.
Eva was sweating.
“Why are you being so negative? Don’t they always catch them right away? This is a small town.”