Karlsen looked startled.
“Pantyliners,” Sejer said by way of explanation.
“They weren’t tights, Konrad. Pantyliners are things women wear at a certain time of the month.”
He left, and Sejer chewed his nail as he felt an incipient nervousness grow in his stomach.
He didn’t like it when six-year-old girls failed to arrive home when expected. Even though he knew there could be lots of reasons for it. Everything from divorced fathers demonstrating proprietorial rights, to homeless puppies that needed coaxing back home, or thoughtless older children who took them out without letting anyone know. Sometimes the kids were asleep in some bush or other, thumb in mouth. Not so many six-year-olds perhaps, but it had certainly happened with two- and three-year-olds. Sometimes they simply got lost, and wandered around hour after hour. Some began to bawl immediately, and got picked up. Others kept walking, speechless with fear without attracting notice. At least the roads were quiet at eight o’clock in the morning, he thought, and felt easier.
He did up the top button of his shirt and rose. He reached for his jacket, too, as if the fabric could protect him from what was to come. Then he walked down the corridor. The morning light gave it a greenish hue, reminding him of the old swimming baths he’d used as a boy.
The remand cells were on the fifth floor. He took the elevator and felt a trifle idiotic as he always did, standing there passive inside the small cage which traveled up and down the building. It was too fast, as well. Things ought to take their allotted time. He felt he arrived too soon. Suddenly he was standing in front of the cell door. For a moment he wanted to resist the temptation to peer in first, but he couldn’t. When he looked through the window he could see her sitting on the bunk with the blanket around her. She was staring through the window where a small patch of gray sky was visible. She started when she heard the rattle of the lock.
“I can’t bear this waiting!” she said.
He nodded as if he understood.
“I’m expecting Dad. They were going to fetch him. My solicitor rang, they’re collecting him in a taxi. I don’t know why it’s taking such a long time, it’s only half an hour’s drive.”
Sejer remained standing. There wasn’t anywhere to sit. Sitting on the bunk next to her was too intimate. “You’ll have to get used to the waiting, there’ll be a lot of that in the future.”
“I’m not used to it. I’m used to doing things all the time, I’m used to the day never being long enough and used to Emma always nagging and wanting something. It’s so quiet here,” she said in despair.
“Take some good advice. Try to sleep at night. Try to eat something. Things will be too tough otherwise.”
“Why are you here anyway?” She looked at him, suddenly suspicious.
“There’s something you ought to know.” He walked a few paces and prepared himself. “As regards your case, and the sentence, it may not be that important. But in certain other respects it could be rather hard.”
“I don’t understand what you...”
“We’ve received various reports from forensics.”
“Well?”
“Both about Maja Durban and Egil Einarsson. They’ve been conducting a number of tests. And they’ve discovered something, which for you, is rather unpleasant.”
“Well, tell me then!”
“Maja Durban was asphyxiated by the murderer pressing a pillow to her face.”
“Yes, that was what I said. I sat there watching.”
“But before that they had sex. And that gives us a number of very concrete clues as to the identity of the murderer. And the fact is,” he drew in his breath, “that the man wasn’t Einarsson.”
Eva sat staring at him. Her face was impassive. Then she smiled.
“Mrs. Magnus,” he went on, “the fact is you’ve killed the wrong man.”
She shook her head emphatically and spread her arms, the smile was still there, but it was slowly congealing. “Excuse me, but I’m certain about that car. Jostein and I, we had one just like it!”
“Please, just forget the car for a moment. Maybe you’re right about that. But in that case it wasn’t Einarsson who was driving.”
A sudden doubt assailed her. “He never lent it to anyone,” she stammered.
“He may have made an exception. Or someone may have borrowed it without his permission.”
“It’s not true!”
“How much did you really witness? You were peering through a narrow crack in a door that was ajar. The room was in semidarkness. Weren’t you sitting with your hands in front of your face for much of the time?”
“I want you to go,” she sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” he said feebly.
“How long have you known this?”
“Some time.”
“Find out where Dad is!”
“They’ll certainly be on their way. Try to rest a bit, you’ll need it.” He waited there, feeling as if he wanted to rush out, but he controlled himself. “The crime itself is the same,” he said.
“No!”
“Legally what matters is that you thought it was him.”
“No! I want you to be wrong.”
“Sometimes we are. But not this time.”
For a long time she sat with her face hidden, then she looked up at him. “Once when we were thirteen...”
“Yes?” Sejer waited.
“D’you think it’s possible to die of fright?”
He shrugged. “I’d imagine so. But only if you were old and had a bad heart. Why?”
“No, nothing.”
There was silence for a while. She brushed her forehead with her hand and glanced quickly at her wrist, and only then remembered that they’d removed her watch.
“But if it wasn’t Einarsson — who was it?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. Possibly one of Einarsson’s acquaintances.”
“Find out what’s happened to my father.”
“I’ll do that.” He went to the door, opened it, and turned. “You mustn’t worry so much about us looking at you through the window. It’s only to make sure that you’re all right. We’re not peeping Toms.”
“It feels like it.”
“Pull the blanket over your head. Try to remember that you’re only one of many in here. You’re not as special as you feel. It’s only outside these walls that you become an object of interest, isn’t it?”
“You can say that again.”
“You’ll be hearing from me.”
He closed the door and locked it.
Rosenkrantzgate 16 was newly painted and greener than ever.
He parked by the garage, and was just stepping out of the car when he caught sight of Jan Henry over by the swings. For a moment the boy waited a little shyly, then he came padding across.
“I didn’t think you’d come again.”
“I said I would. How’s it going?”
“Not too bad.” He shrugged his thin shoulders and twined his legs.
“Is Mom at home?”
“Yes.”
“Have you had any good rides? On the motorbike?”
“Yes. But your car was better. The wind is so strong,” he added.
“Wait out here for me, Jan Henry, I’ve got something for you.”
Sejer walked toward the entrance, and the boy sat down on the swing again. Jorun Einarsson answered the door, she was wearing nothing except long johns, or perhaps they passed for tights, he thought, with a roomy sweater over them. Her hair was lighter than ever.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?”
He nodded politely. She immediately stood back and let him in. He halted in the living room, drew breath, and looked at her earnestly.
“Right now I’ve got just one question. I’ll put it to you and leave again right away. Think carefully before you answer, it’s important.”
She nodded.
“I know that your husband was extremely particular about his car. He took great care of it and kept it in thoroughly good condition. And that he was very unwilling to lend it to anyone. Is that correct?”