Calling Out For You (12 page)

"I'm just curious," Skarre said. "I've never seen her."

"You've never seen her?"

"Not until it was too late."

Einar blinked.

"Pretty and pretty," he looked down at his hands. "I'm not sure. Yes, in a way. Very exotic. Slender, neat. And they dress like women, if you know what I mean. No jeans or track suits, those awful clothes we wear. Her teeth stuck out a great deal."

"But apart from that. How did she act? Confidently? Anxious?"

"I've told you. She looked stressed," he said. "Lost."

"And the time? What time was it when she left?"

He frowned. "Might have been 8.30 or thereabouts."

"Thank you," Skarre said.

He got up and left the office. Opened the flap and went out into the café. Stayed there for a moment looking around. Einar followed him. Grabbed a cloth and started wiping tabletops here and there.

"You can't see the table by the jukebox when you're standing behind the counter," Skarre said slowly.

"No, I told you. I didn't see her leave. I heard the door slam."

"But the suitcase. You said it was brown. How did you see that?"

Einar bit his lip. "Well, perhaps I did go out into the room after all. I really don't remember."

"No," Skarre said. "Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it."

Skarre took four steps and stopped once more.

"Just one small thing." He raised his index finger to his mouth. "I mean, frankly . . . Countless requests for help in the papers and on TV, requests for absolutely anything that might be relevant to a foreign woman being in Elvestad on the 20th. Why on earth didn't you call?"

Einar dropped the cloth. Fear showed momentarily in his face.

"I don't know," he said. His eyes flickered.

Linda was duly described in the paper as a key witness. Unnamed, of course. But all the same. She cycled around at random, just to be seen. No-one knew, only Karen. And her mother. She kept on asking.

"But for God's sake, what did you see?"

"Hardly anything," Linda said. "But maybe I'll begin to remember more in time." She had called Jacob with the latest news. The blond hair. The sticker in the car window. Sensed this particular value she had finally acquired. She cycled towards the centre of the village and Gunwald's shop was on her right. An old moped was on its stand outside. Even though she never shopped at Gunwald's she could wander inside and let on a little bit. A single word would flutter like a butterfly from ear to ear that she was the one, Linda Carling, the witness on the bike. People would look at her, come over to her, and talk about her.

Linda saw the killer.

The shop had a special smell. Of bread and coffee and sweet chocolate. She nodded to the shopkeeper and went over to the icebox. Took her time. Gunwald lived right next to the meadow. If he'd been standing by his window he would have seen what she had, but closer. Unless he was shortsighted. He wore spectacles with thick lenses. Gunwald didn't have any of the new, cool ice creams, just the old-fashioned Pinup and Krone ones. She chose a Pinup, tore off the paper and placed the ice cream between her sharp front teeth. Then she rummaged round her pocket for money.

"So you're out and about today?" Gunwald said. "Every time I see you you've grown half a metre, but I still recognise you. You walk like your mother."

Linda couldn't stand this type of comment, but she smiled anyway and put the money on the counter. A newspaper was open next to his till; he was reading about the murder. A truly horrific crime, a headline called it.

"I can't even begin to understand this," Gunwald said, pointing at the newspaper. "Here. In Elvestad. Something like this. I'd never have believed it."

Linda placed her lips over the chocolate coating and it started to melt.

"Think about the killer! He goes around reading about himself in the paper," he went on.

Linda's teeth bit through the soft chocolate coating.

"Well, he got a surprise today," she said.

"Really?"

The shopkeeper pushed his glasses down his nose.

"Today he'll read that he was actually seen. Practically while committing the murder."

Gunwald's eyes widened.

"What's that? It doesn't say so here." He had another look at the page.

"Yes it does. Down there." She leaned over the till and pointed. "A key witness has come forward. The witness passed the crime scene on a bike at the crucial time and noticed a man and a woman in the meadow, where the victim was later found. The witness also noticed a red car parked on the roadside."

"Good God!" Gunwald said. "That witness, could that be someone from around here?"

"It must be," said Linda, nodding.

"But then they might have a description and all that. They'll probably catch him now. Like I always say, not many of them get away with it in the end."

He carried on reading. Linda ate her ice cream.

"She must have seen something," she said. "Anyway, the police don't give away everything. Perhaps she saw much more than it says there. I suppose they have to protect witnesses like that."

She imagined Jacob in her living room, being responsible for her life. She felt a delightful chill down her spine.

Gunwald looked up at her. "She? It's a woman?"

"Doesn't it say so?" said Linda innocently.

"No. Just 'witness'."

"Hm," Linda said. "It might have been in another paper."

"It'll be clear soon enough," Gunwald said. He took another look at Linda and the half-eaten ice cream.

"I didn't think young women ate ice cream," he said, laughing. "They're always watching their weight."

"Not me," Linda said. "I don't have any problems with that."

Then she left the shop, licked the stick quite clean and got on her bike. Perhaps there would be someone she knew at the café. Two cars were outside. Einar's estate car and Gøran's red one. She parked her bike and stood for a while staring a Gøran's car. It wasn't big, but not small either. Newly washed, the paintwork in good nick. And red like a fire engine. She went over to the car and took a closer look. On the left side window was a round sticker. ADONIS it said. Then she made up her mind to have a look from further away, to view it from the same angle as she had seen the other car out at Hvitemoen. She crossed the road to Mode's Shell petrol station and stood there looking. In some ways it could have been a car like that. Whatever that was. But a lot of cars looked the same. Her mum used to say that cars had no distinguishing features any more. But that was not altogether true. She went back across the road and walked up close to the car. Gøran drove a Golf. So now she knew that. And there were lots of cars sporting stickers. For example her mum had the yellow sticker for the air ambulance in the rear window of her car. She went into the café where a crowd was gathered: Gøran, Mode, Nudel and Frank. The man called Frank was known by another name which people used when they wanted to say something derogatory or make a friendly joke: Margit's Achievement. This was because his mother, Margit, had moaned and groaned during the entire pregnancy, paralysed by fear of the birth. The doctor said that it would be a big baby, he had weighed more than six kilos. He was still big. They nodded to her and she nodded back. Einar was sullen as always. She bought a Coke, then went over to the jukebox and put in a one-krone coin. It only took the old-fashioned sort, they were in a bowl next to it and were used over and over. When they were all gone Einar would empty the jukebox and put the coins back in the bowl again. There was never one missing. A miracle, Linda thought. She looked through the titles and picked out "Eloïse". While she was standing there Gøran came over. He stopped and gave her a hard look. She noticed that his face was badly scratched. She looked away.

"Why were you studying my car?"

Linda jumped. She had not realised that anyone would have been able to see her.

"Studying your car?" she said, frightened. "I wasn't studying anything."

Gøran watched her intently. She noticed more scarlet stripes on his face and on one of his hands. He went back to his table. She stayed standing, listening to the music, confused. Had Gøran been in a fight? He wasn't normally aggressive. He was a cheerful, chatty guy with lots of confidence. Perhaps he'd had a row with Ulla. They said that she was worse than a Tasmanian Devil, when she got mad. Linda didn't know what a Tasmanian Devil was, but it would appear to be something with claws. Gøran and Ulla had been going out for a year now and Karen used to say that that was when the rows began. She shrugged and sat by the window. The others looked the other way and she felt unwelcome. Baffled, she sipped her Coke and stared out of the window. Should she call Jacob and tell him about this incident? If she remembered something she only had to call. Now she'd seen Gøran's car, seen the resemblance.

"Good afternoon. It's Linda."

"Hello, Linda. Is that you again? Does this mean you've got something else to tell me?"

"It may not be important, but it's about the car. I wonder if it mightn't have been a Golf."

"You've seen one like it?"

"Yes. Precisely."

"In Elvestad?"

"Yes, but it's not the one because I know the guy who owns it, but it looks like it. If you know what I mean."

She was lost in her dreams. Wondering and wondering. How many red cars were there in Elvestad? She thought about that. Gunder Jomann had a red Volvo. But apart from that? She thought hard. The doctor. He had a red estate car, similar to Einar's. She sipped her Coke and stared out of the window. Listened to the voices from the other table. "Eloïse" was ended. Einar was making a clatter with ashtrays and glasses. She was convinced that Einar went around with a cloth like that at home. He wiped the seats and tables and window frames and probably his wife too and kids and everything. But Gøran and the red scratches. He terrified her.

Anders Kolding was twenty-five years old. Slim build with brown eyes and a small mouth. He wore his cabbie uniform which was far too big for him and white sports socks in black loafers. His eyes were bloodshot.

"The baby?" Sejer said.

"He's asleep in the car. Couldn't risk waking him now. He's got colic," he said. "And I'm working shifts. I sleep in the car between trips."

He placed a well-worn money changer on the desk. The leather cover was fraying.

"This murder in Elvestad – have you heard about it?"

"Yes." He looked at Sejer guiltily.

"Did you ever wonder that it could be the woman you drove from Gardermoen?"

"Not really," Kolding said. "I mean, not straightaway. I drive all kinds of people. Lots of foreigners."

"Tell me everything you remember about this woman and the drive," Sejer said. "Don't leave anything out." He made himself comfortable in the chair. "If you saw a hedgehog cross the road as you drove into Elvestad, you'll tell me."

Kolding chuckled. He relaxed a little and took hold of the money changer again. He stayed in his seat, fiddling with it while he was thinking. This business with the Indian woman had haunted him all the way into his dreams. He didn't tell Sejer that.

"She came walking towards the car with a heavy brown suitcase. Almost unwillingly. She kept looking back as though she didn't want to leave. I took the suitcase and wanted to put it in the boot, but she said no. She was very confused. Kept looking at the clock. Looking over her shoulder towards the airport entrance. So I waited patiently. Besides, I was tired, as far as I was concerned I could've had a little snooze. I opened the door, but she didn't want to get in. I asked her in English if she was expecting someone and she nodded. For a while she stood there holding the car door. Then she wanted the boot opened. I opened it and she fiddled with the suitcase. There was a brown folder buttoned on to the outside, a kind of document case. She unbuttoned it and got in at last. She sat on the edge of the seat gazing out of the window. Stared towards the entrance to the arrivals hall, stared down along the taxi rank and kept looking at the clock. I was pretty confused myself. Did she want a cab or not?"

Kolding needed a break. Sejer poured him a glass of Farris mineral water and handed it to him.

Kolding drank it and put the glass down on Sejer's blotting pad, next to the Panama Canal.

"Then I turned to her and asked her where she was going. She unzipped the brown folder and took out a scrap of paper with an address. An address in Elvestad. That's a long way, I said. Expensive, too. Takes about an hour and a half. She nodded and pulled out some banknotes to show that she had the money. I don't know my way round out there, I said, so we'll have to ask around. She looked lost. I studied her in the wing mirror, her eyes were full of despair. She was still rummaging around in her bag as though she was looking for something. For a while she sat there studying the remains of her plane ticket as though there might be something wrong with it. She didn't want to talk. I tried a few times, but her answers were brief, in reasonable English. I remember her long plait. It fell down over her shoulder and reached to her lap. She had a red band in it and I remember that it had tiny gold threads in it."

You're quite a find, Sejer thought. If only it had been you riding past Hvitemoen on your bike!

Kolding coughed into his hands, breathed in through his nose and continued. "There are houses dotted all over the area and not all of them are numbered. A few kilometres outside the centre of Elvestad I finally found Blindveien. She looked so relieved. I went up the gravel drive and felt just as relieved as she did. She smiled for the first time and I remember thinking that it was a shame about her teeth. You see, they really stuck out. But apart from that she was pretty. I mean, when she closed her mouth. I got out of the car and so did she. I wanted to lift the suitcase out, but she gestured that I should wait. Then she rang the door bell. No-one there. She rang and she rang. I shuffled around the drive, waiting. She got more and more upset. She looked as if she was going to cry. Are they expecting you? I asked her. Yes, she said. Something must have happened. Something is wrong.

"She got back into the car. Didn't say a word. I didn't know what she wanted to do, so I waited too. And the meter was running, we were into big numbers now. Isn't there someone you can call? I asked her, but she shook her head. Then she asked me to drive her back. When we got to the village centre she asked me to stop. By the café. She said she'd wait in there. I lifted the suitcase out of the car and she gave me the money. The fare came to more than 1,400 kroner. She looked totally worn out. The last thing I saw was her dragging her heavy suitcase up the steps. I drove over the road to fill up with petrol. There's a Shell station there. And then I drove back into town. I couldn't get her out of my mind. I thought about how far she'd come and then she'd ended up in front of a locked door. Someone must have played a nasty trick on her. It was really cruel," Kolding said. He put the money changer down and looked at Sejer.

"No, she wasn't tricked. The man who was supposed to meet her at the airport was prevented from doing so. She never knew why. But if she'd known, she would have forgiven him."

Kolding looked at him, wondering what that could mean.

"On the way between Elvestad and the house, did you notice anything? People along the road? Parked cars?"

Kolding had not seen anything. Traffic had been light. To further questions he said that he had been a cab driver for two years, was married and was the father of a three-month-old screaming child. In addition he confirmed the approximate timings.

"When you filled up the car," Sejer said, "who was behind the till at the petrol station?"

"A young woman. Blonde."

"Did you buy anything else?"

Kolding looked at him, surprised. "Bought anything? You mean from the kiosk?"

"Anything."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I did buy a battery for my car," he said after a while.

Sejer considered this for a moment. "You bought a battery for your car at Elvestad petrol station?"

"Yes. It was a special offer. You won't get a car battery that cheap in town," Kolding said.

"And this battery, where is it now?"

"In the car, of course. My own car, I mean."

Sejer imagined a car battery, how heavy it might be. With hard, clean surfaces. If you smashed it against a human head it would do considerable damage. The thought made him look carefully at Kolding's face. He imagined Poona sitting in his car.

"What else did you do at the petrol station?"

"Nothing much. I had a Coke while I was there. Looked at the CD stand. Leafed through a newspaper."

"So you spent quite a time in there?"

"Only a few minutes really."

"You didn't see the Indian woman leave the café?"

"No, no."

"And afterwards. Where did you go?"

"Back to town. No return fare to be had in Elvestad. Had no choice but to drive back on my own."

"Your cab. What make is it?"

"Mercedes. A black one."

"How many people live in New Delhi?"

They were in the canteen. Sejer prodded his food.

"Millions, I guess," Skarre said. "And we don't know his first name."

Sejer. did not like the idea that Poona Bai had a brother who was unaware of what had happened. He removed the garnish from his sandwich. They ate in silence.

"Time's passing," he said eventually.

"Indeed," Skarre said. "It tends to."

"A guilty person spends his time wisely. He creates an alibi. Gets rid of the evidence."

"Such as the suitcase," Skarre said, between mouthfuls.

"And the clothes he wore. His shoes. If he has sustained any injuries as result of the struggle then they heal. Tell me about Einar Sunde."

Skarre pondered. "Sullen. Uncooperative. Doesn't see any need to be in the limelight."

"Or scared," Sejer said.

"Could be. But he was alone in his café when the murder took place. He'd hardly have locked the door, gone out and killed Poona and then come back in to flip hamburgers."

"We've only got his word for it that he was alone." Sejer wiped his mouth with the napkin. "This is turning into the kind of case where people are terrified to talk," he said. "Everything will be used against them later on. But I've been thinking about this young woman, Linda. That she did in fact cycle past them. Without seeing anything other than a white shirt."

"It happens."

"There must be a way of making her remember."

"You can't remember what you didn't actually see," Skarre objected. "The visual impressions might have been plentiful, but if the brain didn't interpret them then she'll never be able to recall them."

"Is there anything you don't know!"

"Basic witness psychology," Skarre said.

"Really! We didn't have that in my day."

"Surely you were taught psychology?"

"One lecture. Two hours. That was all."

"During your entire training?"

"I've had to work things out for myself."

Skarre looked at his boss in disbelief.

"I'm sorry to have to say it," he said, "but I'm not sure just how serious she is. She's too keen."

"If psychologists can get people to recall past lives, all the way back to the Stone Age, they should be able to revive Linda's memory of two people in a meadow four days ago."

"You're just not taking this seriously," Skarre said.

"I know."

He focused on the case again. "I've got an hour to spare now. I'll go to Hvitemoen. I'll take Kollberg, he needs some fresh air."

They put their trays back. Sejer went to the car park. As he approached his car he noticed it was bouncing violently. The heavy Leonberger sprang out. Not as agile as he used to be, Sejer thought, but then he wasn't a young dog any more.

He brushed copper-red dog hair from his trousers. Allowed the dog to relieve itself in the bushes. Then he drove to Elvestad. At Hvitemoen he parked in the place where Linda had seen the red car parked. It was marked with two orange cones. He let the dog loose again and started walking towards the bend from where Linda had come cycling. He turned his head and looked back. He could now observe his own car from a considerable distance. The sun gleamed on the paintwork and made it shine like silver although it was in fact blue. He walked briskly down the road with the dog beside him. A few paces on and he turned and looked over to the meadow where they had found the woman. A man or a woman would probably be visible from the waist up given the distance and the long grass. He looked at his car again. What was he actually seeing? That the car was big and wide and had metallic paintwork. At a glance it could pass for silver or grey. A car reckoned to be red might turn out to be brown. Or orange. He felt depressed, stopped by the roadside and looked down at the grass to make sure it was dry before he sat down. The dog sat next to him. It looked at him expectantly. Started sniffing his pockets. Sejer fished out a dog biscuit and told Kollberg to shake hands. His paw was large and heavy. The dog wolfed down the biscuit.

"Don't be greedy," he said gently.

Kollberg barked.

"No. I haven't got any more. You don't look all that well," he said pensively. He raised the dog's head and gazed into its black eyes. "I'm not on especially good form myself. Because of what has happened." He looked out over the meadow again. At the black wall of spruces which partly hid Gunwald's house. There was a flash of light from the window. How had he dared? It struck him that none of this was planned. A man had happened to come across a woman. She had been hitchhiking, perhaps, or been walking along the road when he had driven past. Then, being an exotic-looking woman, she had aroused something in him. And he had stopped thinking rationally, had not taken into account that it was still more or less broad daylight and that anyone could come by. Like the Linda girl on her bike. How could a man develop such rage against someone he probably didn't even know? Though they couldn't be sure of that. Unless it was the case that she was a substitute for some other woman. Or all women. An aggrieved man who had not got his way, a big rejected kid. A man with great strength, or having an extreme weapon, he still didn't know what it could be. What did he keep in the red car? Sejer sensed that this was part of the answer. The weapon would tell them something about who he was. Had Linda really seen the two of them? It had to be them, the timings were right. The plane had landed at 6 p.m. She had got into Kolding's cab by 6.40. They'd reached Jomann's house at 8.00 and Einar's Café by 8.15. Sunde had said that she left the café around 8.30. Alone, out on the road. She'd met someone there. Had she walked along the road with the heavy suitcase? Anders Kolding had said it was big and that she had practically had to drag it up the steps into the café. A man had driven by. He imagined a red car and the driver spotting the dark woman. How utterly helpless and irresistible she must have seemed. A delicate woman in pretty clothes. Where was she heading? Back to Jomann's house presumably, it lay in that direction. Was she proposing to wait on the doorstep? If she had not been stopped on the road she'd actually have met Jomann. He was back at his house by 9.30. But she never arrived. After the immense journey from India, she had died 1,000 metres from his house. He imagined the man stopping and talking to her. Perhaps he pointed at the suitcase and asked where she was going.

I can give you a lift, I'm going that way anyway.
So he took the suitcase and put it in his boot. Opened the door for her. She felt safe, she was in Gunder's home country, safe little Norway. They drove away. He asked what she was doing at Gunder's. Perhaps she said that he was her husband. Sejer stopped and zoomed in on that image, but then it slipped out of reach because he could not imagine what had triggered the rage and the attack. The car drove away from him. Disappeared behind the bend. The dog nudged him with its snout.

"In a place like this," Sejer said aloud and studied the wood and the meadow and Gunwald's house. "In a place like this people will protect one another. That's how it always is. If they've seen something they don't understand they wouldn't dare to say so. They think I must be mistaken, I grew up with him, we've worked together and anyway, he's my cousin. Or neighbour. Or brother. We went to school together. So I won't say anything, it must be a mistake. Human beings are like that. And that's a good thing, isn't it, Kollberg?" He looked at the dog. "We're not talking about evil here, but the good in people which stops them from saying what they know."