“I was completely exhausted. I’ve just started a new job.”
“When did you fall asleep?”
Eva shrugged.
Barbro Liljendahl jotted something down in her notebook.
“We have tried to call Patrik on his cell phone-we got the number from his brother-but he doesn’t answer. Don’t you have any idea where he might be?”
“No, but isn’t it better if you go out and look for him rather than sitting here?” Eva asked.
“It’s helpful for us to know where to look,” Harry Andersson said.
“Hugo,” Eva turned around and pushed the boy into the hallway, “I think it’s best you went to bed.”
He dutifully followed her into the bedroom. Eva closed the door behind her.
“What have you said?”
“That I was sleeping.”
He was close to tears.
“Good, stay here, you can play a video game or something. We’ll talk more after the cops leave. Do you have any idea where Patrik is?”
Hugo shook his head.
“Is he with Zero?”
“I don’t think so.”
She hugged Hugo, returned to the kitchen, took out a glass and let the water run until it became cold. Then she took four long sips and racked her brains for where Patrik could be.
The two police officers were sitting behind her back. Johnny was standing in the doorway to the hall.
“I don’t know where he is,” she said finally, putting the glass down so loudly that Harry Andersson jumped.
“As soon as he gets home, we would like you to call this number,” Barbro Liljendahl said and handed her a card.
Eva laid the card on the kitchen counter without looking at it.
“Of course,” she said.
When the police had left, Eva turned to Johnny.
“Thanks for your help,” she said and sank down onto a chair in the hall.
“It was nothing. What are you going to do?”
“I thought maybe you could stay here for a little while. Is that all right? Just so Hugo doesn’t have to be alone. I’m going to look for Patrik.”
Johnny nodded and pulled off his coat.
“I want to come with you,” Hugo said. He was standing in the door to his room.
“It’s better if you stay here, in case Patrik calls. You can try to call Ahmed, Giorgio, Anton, Emil, and…”
“Mossa,” Hugo finished.
“Good. Mossa too. But don’t say anything about the police. If they ask, just say you want to reach Patrik. If Patrik calls tell him to call me on my cell phone, okay?”
Eva did not like the narrow walking paths that connected the various areas of the neighborhood. Some stretches cut through dense forest and were poorly lit. This late at night there were not usually many people out, perhaps a couple of teenagers or the occasional dog owner.
She walked at a brisk clip in the direction of the school and saw a patrol car in the distance. Naturally they were going around, snooping. But if they thought they could find Patrik they were naive. He was smart enough to stay away. The Sävja jungle drums did their work and he would surely know they were looking for him.
The first wave of anxiety was beginning to give way to anger. What was he doing out in the first place? He had promised to stay home. But she should have known better. Patrik was a restless soul who hated staying in. Sometimes she could tempt him with watching a video, otherwise he left as soon as dinner was over.
And now she would have an even harder time keeping tabs on him. Several times a week, and every other weekend she had to work. She stopped at an intersection. Should I stop working at Dakar? Is it right to be gone so much? She turned to the right and came to an area that was even more deserted.
The darkness was oppressive where the streetlamps were even more spaced out. She heard rustling in the fallen leaves, a blackbird flew up and disappeared into the tree canopy.
She ran around for an hour, to the school, toward the southern part of the area and back, swung down to the grocery store and turned back again. During this time she called Patrik’s cell phone a few times and once back to Hugo at home.
She encountered ten or so other people, of whom four were dog owners and three were teenage girls. Eva knew one of them from preschool. That was ten years ago, but you could tell it was the same girl. She nodded to Eva, who slowed down a bit, not sure if she should ask if they had seen Patrik, but decided not to and continued on quickly to the old post office.
She heard the girls laughing behind her. They probably knew that the police were out. Tomorrow all of Sävja and half of Bergsbrunna would know.
She stopped under a streetlight. Was there any sense in running around like this? She was convinced Hugo was calling around to all the friends.
Patrik was wanted by the police, he was most likely aware of it by now and God only knew what the child was going to do.
She ran the last part home. The assembly of young people in the yard had dispersed. The light was still on in Helen’s apartment. Darkness descended over the area. A tawny owl started to make its call.
Her cell phone rang at that moment.
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Where are you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“What have you done?”
“Nothing. It’s just the cops who-”
“Tell me about the assault!”
She could hear Patrik’s breaths.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. What did the cops say?”
“You are the one who should tell me what’s happened,” Eva said. “They talked about a man who had been stabbed.”
“It was Zero.”
“Zero was the one who did this? Were you there?”
“I have to stop now. I’ll be home later.”
“You come straight home. Now.”
“I think the cops are keeping an eye on the building.”
Eva looked around. There was nothing that indicated that the police were present, but Eva realized they would hardly park in the middle of the yard.
“I want to see you. Think about Hugo, he’s also worried.”
Patrik was quiet and Eva knew he was thinking it over.
“The community gardens, go there.”
“How will I-?”
“I’ll see you when you come.”
Patrik hung up. Eva stood frozen for a while, then she called Hugo.
Seventeen
The bar at Alhambra was the place that Slobodan Andersson liked best. Dakar was okay, he dropped by there every evening at eight o’clock to have a grappa, but it was at Alhambra that everything had started, really gotten going. Here he had planned and discussed things with Armas. Slobodan recalled how the tight anxiety mingled with the triumphant feeling of doing exactly the right thing, how they laid out the plans and went through the details again and again. Armas had a feeling for the small details, those that could mean the difference between catastrophe and success. He never left anything to chance. In a few words he steered Slobodan where he wanted. Slobodan was sometimes struck by the suspicion that he was inferior to Armas and knew that he more than once had Armas to thank for his successes.
Strangely enough Slobodan was worried. That did not happen often. Perhaps it was Armas’s comment about the computer, that the police could easily retrieve even those messages that had been deleted. Slobodan wondered for a long time if this could be true, but by now the machine had been taken apart and discarded, and Armas had purchased a new laptop and installed it before he left for Spain.
Slobodan sat at the short end of the bar, smoked a cigarette, and observed those who came and went, greeting old customers with a nod or a brief handshake, exchanging a few words but not embarking on more extensive conversations.
Alhambra was doing well. He registered every transaction that Jonas and Frances made with the cash register, not the sums but the sound of the fingers on the buttons and the click when the cash drawer popped out.
He recalled how, at the start of his restaurant career, he had stared at the figures every evening, counted and figured, compared and planned, wished. Now he no longer had to be so concerned; still, he kept a daily check on how the business was doing. He trusted his staff. He was the one who had hired them, and to question their competency and honor was to dismiss his own judgment. In the case of Gonzo at Dakar he had been wrong, but now that mistake had been corrected. Despite Armas’s protests he had allowed Gonzo to work a couple more weeks and take out all of his remaining pay, even his vacation compensation. Anything beyond this would be ridiculous. Thereafter a kick in the ass.