‘In other words, no one places any demands on you.’
‘Correct,’ I said. ‘It’s called freedom.’
‘Or loneliness,’ he said. ‘But, OK. I can understand that. Would you say that you had a special relationship with Nelly Friis?’
I thought for some time, mulling the matter over a little.
‘I’ve got a special relationship with every one of my patients. And I regard them as adults and individuals deserving dignity. If I’d considered a mercy killing, I wouldn’t have chosen Nelly Friis. I’d have chosen Barbro Zanussi. Barbro lives in a torment of pain, she lies groaning all day long, it’s a strain on everybody.’
‘So the person who killed Nelly did it out of kindness. Is that what you think?’
I nodded. ‘And so do you. Such angels of death do occasionally turn up in old people’s homes and institutions. I’ve read about them in the papers, strange, distracted characters who are drawn to such work. But we only have one angel on our ward. That’s Sister Anna Otterlei, and she’s completely flawless.’
‘What’s your attitude to death, Riktor? Can you tell me a bit about that?’
‘I’m painfully aware of it,’ I said, ‘and I see it happening to others. But I keep hoping it won’t happen to me.’
Randers chuckled and wrote. I sat thinking about our conversation, and then wondered if my house was being turned upside down. There were some muffled thumping noises from out in the corridor, a voice and a door slamming.
‘So how did Nelly Friis die?’ I asked after a long silence.
Randers lowered his pen. He sat looking at me for a time, then clasped his hands on the table.
‘The post-mortem showed that she’d been suffocated. She had blood leakage in her eyes. There were tooth marks on the inner surface of her upper lip, something that occurs when a lot of pressure is applied to the mouth. Her nose had been pressed down hard. Considerable force was used.’
‘Nobody said anything about that at the time,’ I objected. ‘Dr Fischer pronounced her dead. There were no suspicions of that sort, no discussion. I don’t understand how this has arisen in the first place. If I was the suspect, why didn’t they say that immediately?’
‘You need time to build up a case,’ Randers said. ‘And now at last we’ve got a case. How are you feeling?’ he asked all of a sudden. ‘Obviously it’s quite a strain being questioned, with such a grave charge hanging over one’s head.’
‘It’s no strain on me,’ I said staunchly. ‘Because I didn’t kill Nelly Friis. I’m completely innocent.’
Randers was calm and collected, he was buoyant and self-assured, one of those thoroughly successful types. And I really did wonder what evidence he had. Surely they couldn’t condemn me on mere assumptions?
Although I’m reasonably articulate and did quite well in this first interview, it was a relief to be escorted back to my cell. Janson locked the door behind me, and I immediately sat down at the window. I laid my arm on the desk in front of me and looked at my own hand, and the way it was slightly flexed. It was as if time were standing still. All sounds from the block seemed far away, and I tried to relax. But my thoughts kept racing the whole time, like a mill churning incessantly, round and round.
What was really happening?
After a while I stretched out on the bed, with my hands cradling my head. I tried to breathe calmly. I imagined the park by Lake Mester, which I missed so sorely, its splashing water, its green benches. Woman Weeping and Woman Laughing. Ebba’s crocheting needle flashing in the sunlight. I thought about Anna’s brother, who was still at the bottom of the lake. Perhaps the eels had gnawed deep holes in the dissolving flesh. And eaten his eyes. Occasionally I dozed. But all the time a part of me was waiting for Janson’s key.
Chapter 25
De Reuter appeared the next afternoon, this time in a dark blue suit and stylish turquoise tie, perfectly knotted. He sat down at the desk. He wanted to know if I was abreast of things and understood what was happening.
‘I simply want justice,’ I said, ‘like everyone else. I don’t mind being judged for the small things I’ve done, but not for this. I really do find it hard to grasp that this is even happening. Why have they all turned against me? I thought they were decent colleagues. Not to put too fine a point on it: I feel thoroughly betrayed.’
De Reuter unzipped his briefcase with verve. Papers rustled.
‘There’s just one thing I’ve got to get straight, if you don’t mind,’ he said, his dark eyes resting on me.
‘Yes?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘You mustn’t conceal things from me.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘What I mean,’ he explained, ‘is this. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises sprung on me when I’m in court. There must be no secrets. We must be open with one another.’
‘You won’t have any unpleasant surprises,’ I assured him. ‘These are simply groundless accusations. And when the day of the trial comes, I’ll have my answers ready, I can promise you that.’
‘Did you see Nelly after she was dead?’
‘She was carried down to the basement, and her next of kin could go and see her. Yes, I did make a quick visit to the mortuary to say goodbye. It’s always a little sad, she’d been with us a long time. She was like a sparrow. Tiny and thin and blind.’
De Reuter sat watching me as I spoke. I couldn’t imagine him with a family, and a wife, with brats running about clinging to his legs. I couldn’t imagine him working in the garage or watching saucepans, or even having a life beyond this. He’s probably always a lawyer, I thought, always on his way to some cell or other, with an overfilled office for a base, where his volumes of Norwegian Statutes shine red and ponderous on the shelves. And if he has a woman, she’ll be a lawyer, too. Perhaps they share an office. Perhaps they sit opposite each other as they work, their glances meeting once in a while across the piles of papers.
‘When we’re in court, it’s important that you show respect,’ he pointed out. ‘And preferably, a considerable degree of humility, too. It creates a good impression, it’s what they want to see. The lay assessors can’t be bought, but they’re not impossible to charm and persuade. Remember all this when we’re in court.’
‘It’s not easy to show humility when you’re innocent,’ I protested. ‘Because I’m pretty furious really, and I have a right to be.’
‘Then you must check yourself,’ de Reuter returned. ‘And remember this. The court is looking for civility.’
He took me through my entire life, more or less. My childhood and adolescence, of which I could tell him little apart from small, confusing fragments. He particularly wanted to know about my relationship with my parents, and with others of my own age.
‘I had no relationships whatever,’ I explained. ‘Not with anyone.’
‘But, what about your mother?’
‘Well, she brought me up well. I’m very independent. I don’t rely on others, I don’t think one should.’
‘And Nelly Friis? What was your relationship with her?’
‘I suppose I was rather fascinated,’ I said. ‘Nelly was blind, and I’d thought a lot about what it would be like to live in darkness. The thing is, I don’t experience the dark in the same way as other people do.’
De Reuter turned his eyes to me.
‘So tell me how you do experience the dark,’ he asked.
‘I can see anyway. Every object seems to have remnants of light left in it, which enables me to see the outline of everything, even when it’s pitch black. I can also make out surfaces and spaces, they pulsate with an orange-coloured light. I’ve always had this ability, but I’ve never found any explanation for it. I’ve probably got more receptors than other people. Let me put it this way: I’ve always felt myself to be somewhat different and unusual.’