“If you think further back, was there anything that was out of the ordinary in any way? Let’s say from six months before he disappeared up to the time his car was found in the dump — can you recall an episode or a period when he wasn’t quite himself, or he was worried, or something like that? I mean, anything at all? Telephone calls? Letters? Maybe days he got home later than normal from work, or didn’t sleep well?”
Jorun Einarsson munched the other sugar lump, and he saw how her thoughts were traveling back. She cocked her head slightly over some memory or other, discarded it, and mused on. Einarsson junior breathed noiselessly; like most little pitchers he had big ears.
“There was some trouble at the pub one evening. I suppose there is most of the time, and anyway it wasn’t anything serious, but someone had got completely legless, so the landlord rang the police to have him taken away. It was one of Egil’s mates, from the brewery. Egil followed them and pleaded with them to let him out. He promised to drive him home and get him to bed. And obviously that’s what they did. That night he didn’t get home till half past three in the morning, and I remember that he overslept the following day.”
“Yes? Did you learn what had happened?”
“No. Only that he’d been completely pissed. Not Egil, but the other man. Egil had the car, he was on the early shift. Anyway, I didn’t ask, that sort of thing doesn’t interest me.”
“Was he a man who cared about other people, d’you think? It was rather good of him. He could have turned his back and left him to it.”
“He wasn’t especially caring,” she said, “since you ask. He didn’t notice his surroundings much normally. So I admit I was a bit surprised that he really had taken that trouble. Saved a bloke from a drunk and disorderly charge. Yes, I was a bit taken aback perhaps, but they were mates, after all. Quite honestly, I hadn’t thought about it much. Not before now, I mean, when you asked about it.”
“When roughly did this happen?”
“Oh God, I can’t remember. Shortly before he went missing.”
“Weeks? Months?”
“No, a few days perhaps.”
“A few days? Did you mention that episode when we spoke to you last autumn?”
“Don’t think so.”
“And his drunken mate, Mrs. Einarsson, do you know who he was?”
She shook her head, stole a quick glance over her shoulder, and caught sight of the child.
“Jan Henry! I thought I told you to go to your room!”
He got up and slunk out of the room like an unwelcome dog. She poured more coffee.
“The name, Mrs. Einarsson,” he said quietly.
“No, I can’t remember,” she said. “There’s so many of them, a whole gang who hang out at that pub.”
“But he overslept the next day, didn’t you say?”
“Yes.”
“And they’ve got a time-clock at the brewery, haven’t they?”
“Mmm.”
He considered. “And when you got the car back from our technical people, you sold it?”
“Yes, I needed the money. Besides I can’t afford to drive anyway, so I sold the car to my brother, along with some tools that were in the back. A socket set and a jack. And some clutter which I hadn’t got a clue what it was. Besides, there was something missing, something that wasn’t there.”
“What?”
“I can’t remember now. My brother asked about it, and we searched but couldn’t find it. I can’t remember what it was.”
“Try. It could be important.”
“No, I don’t think it was important, but I can’t remember what it was. We searched in the garage too.”
“Ring the station if you remember. Could you ask your brother?”
“He’s off traveling. But he’ll be back sometime.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Einarsson,” he said, getting up.
She leapt up from her chair, slightly flustered and blushing because he was off so suddenly, and followed him to the door. He bowed and went to the car park. Just as he put the key in the door, he caught sight of the boy, he was standing with both feet in a flower bed, turning the soil with terrific energy. His trainers were filthy. Sejer waved.
“Hi. Haven’t you got anyone to play with?”
“No,” he smiled bashfully. “Why haven’t you got a police car when you’re at work?”
“Good question. But you see, I’m actually on my way home. I live a bit further along the road, and this way I don’t have to go back to the station to change cars.” He thought for a moment. “Have you ever been in a police car?”
“No.”
“Next time I come to see your mom I’ll come in a police car. You can come for a drive with me, if you’d like.”
The boy smiled from ear to ear, but there was a shadow of doubt, perhaps it came from bitter experience.
“It’s a promise,” Sejer assured him. “And you won’t have to wait long!” He slid in behind the steering wheel and rolled off slowly down the street. In the mirror he saw the thin arm waving.
He was still thinking about the boy as he passed the trotting course on the left and the Church of the Latter-day Saints on his right. “God forgive you, Konrad,” he said to himself, “if you forget that police car next time.”
5
Emma was playing with a farm on the living room floor.
The animals were arranged in neat lines, pink pigs, brown and white dappled cows, hens, and sheep. A Tyrannosaurus rex surveyed the scene, the head with its tiny brain just reached to the ridge of the barn.
At regular intervals she ran to the window, watching eagerly for her father’s car. Every other weekend she stayed with her father and she looked forward to it each time with equal fervor. Eva was expectant too. She sat tensely on the sofa and waited, needing to get the child out of the house so she could have peace to think. She usually used such free weekends for working. Now she was totally paralyzed. Everything was different. They’d found him.
Emma hadn’t brought up the subject of the dead man for several days. But that didn’t mean she’d forgotten him. She could tell by her mother’s face that he wasn’t to be mentioned, and although she didn’t know why, she respected it.
In the studio a canvas stood prepared on the easel. She had already primed it black, without a hint of light. She couldn’t be bothered to look at it. There was so much else now that needed to be done first. She sat on the sofa listening with the same intensity as Emma for the red Volvo which would turn into the courtyard at any moment. Complete order reigned on the farm, apart from the green monster that towered behind the barn. It looked strange.
“That dinosaur doesn’t quite fit in, does it, Emma?”
Emma pouted.
“I know that. It’s only visiting.”
“Ah, I see. I should have realized.”
She drew her legs up and pulled her long skirt over her knees. Tried to empty her head of thoughts. Emma sat down again, pushed the piglets one after the other under the sow’s belly.
“There’s not enough teats. This one hasn’t got one.” She raised a piglet between two fingers and looked inquiringly at her mother.
“Mmm. That’s what happens. Those piglets starve to death. Or you have to feed them from a bottle and farmers usually haven’t got the time.”
Emma pondered this for a bit. “I can give it to Dino. He’s got to have food, too.”
“But they only eat grass and leaves and that sort of thing, don’t they?”
“Not this one, he’s a meat-eater,” Emma explained, and pushed the piglet between the green monster’s sharp teeth.
Eva shook her head in disbelief at this practical solution. Children never ceased to amaze her. And just then there was the sound of revving in the courtyard. Emma vanished as fast as she was able, out through the hallway to greet her father.