The Demon of Dakar (12 page)

She was riding her bike
into the wind. Eva regretted not having taken the bus, even though this way she was saving money and improving her fitness, maybe even losing a few pounds.

Her thoughts kept coming back to last night. Patrik would end up in trouble if he kept associating with Zero. She had not managed to get more out of him except that they had had a fight.

“Some idiots from Gränby,” he had said, but denied knowing them and he would not tell her what the fight had been about, more than that it was about “stuff.” Stuff could apparently refer to just about anything and it frightened Eva. Boys have always had fights, she told herself, but given what had happened in recent years, stuff could lead to a bad end, even to death. She remembered a shooting in Gränby several years earlier all too well. The accused, a teenager, was freed after the main witness had changed his story.

Patrik had denied that anyone from that gang had been involved in last night’s skirmish.

“It was some other idiots,” he said.

“Friends of Zero?”

“No, they were Swedes.”

“But you are a Swede and apparently friends with him.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

Eva couldn’t quite imagine what these adolescents’ lives looked like, how their loyalties worked, or even what the words they used meant. And now her main task, along with the work at Dakar, was to raise two teenagers, and that in an environment she had trouble understanding.

Patrik had promised to stay out of trouble and try to reduce his interactions with Zero, without causing the latter to feel betrayed.

“He would go crazy in that case,” Patrik said.

He had given her two promises, and Eva knew that both of them would be hard to keep.

The county was constructing little
areas with park benches and flower beds up and down East Ågatan. It was being spiffed up and made more accessible. Perhaps they were hoping to achieve a more continental look in the inner city, where Uppsala residents and tourists alike could stroll under the chestnut trees and where lindens grew right next to the river.

Eva paused, in part because she was feeling hot and did not want to arrive at Dakar dripping with perspiration, in part because she wanted a chance to watch the workers. A couple of men were laying stones, roughly hewn rectangular pieces that were mortared together into a wall or bench if one so desired. The men had the aid of a backhoe, in whose claw the stones were directed into place. They adjusted the stones with metal tools. It looked astonishingly easy even though they were handling such weights. The machine was doing its part, of course, but Eva thought she could read a great satisfaction in their work in the men’s faces. One of them put his hand on a set stone, almost like he was petting it, as if to say, “Here you are now and it looks good,” before it was the next block’s turn.

Eva was struck by the durability of their work. Around the city there was stone in the paved streets, on the front of buildings, in bridges and ornamental structures in parks. No human force could shift these stones. Once a worker patted them into place they were set, testifying to his work.

She compared this to her own job, waitressing at Dakar. This left no visible traces more than for the moment, that was simply how it was, just like her earlier work at the post office. “The woman at the counter,” that was what she had been for many years, but God forbid she leave her place for a quick bathroom break or to sign a form in one of the inner regions of the office. Then there were immediate complaints.

The men coaxed a new block into place. The driver swung the backhoe to the side, allowing it to rest on the pile of stones. Perhaps they were going to take a break. One of the workers gave her a quick, curious look.

“It’s turning out well,” she said and climbed back onto the bike.

The man nodded and took a few steps closer to her, putting one foot up on the block he had just set.

“Time for me to go to work,” she said.

“I was just going to offer you a cup of coffee,” the man said and Eva couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“Are you taking a break right now?”

“No, we’re done for the day.”

Two of the man’s fellow workers were waiting in the background.

“Where do you work?”

“At a restaurant. It’s called Dakar.”

“Then you will have to be the one to invite me,” the man said and laughed. “See you!”

He gave her a mischievous look before he joined his colleagues and left for the work trailer.

She ended up standing around for a little while longer before biking the rest of the way.

A heated discussion was under
way in Dakar’s kitchen. Feo’s aggravated voice and Donald’s interruptions could be heard out all the way into the dressing room.

When Eva stepped into the kitchen the two chefs abruptly stopped and stared at her.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” she said.

Donald turned his back on her, grabbed a pot from the rack but
changed his mind, put it back, and walked out to the bar instead. They heard how he took out a bottle of soda or mineral water. Donald never drank anything stronger than this on the job.

“We were talking about the union. They want to come here.”

Eva nodded.

“Anything in particular?”

“No, they have some campaign. I’m in the union now, but not Donald. He calls them parasites.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever found them so helpful, but I still think it’s important to join.”

“Exactly! Suddenly it happens.”

Donald returned.

“Have you formed a club now?”

“Yes, you are treasurer,” Feo said.

This, her third evening, involved
the most work so far. A party of sixteen had come thundering in at six o’clock. They had been playing golf all day and now demanded drinks and food. Eva recognized one of them, a classmate from the Eriksberg school, but he did not recognize her, or else he didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“I hate golfers,” Tessie said.

After the party, which had not been booked in advance and created a great deal of work in the bar and kitchen, there were dinner guests in a steady stream until nine o’clock. Luckily Johnny was working as well and so they were three chefs and one apprentice.

Tessie demonstrated the extent of her professional capabilities. Eva quickly realized that the other waiter, Gonzo, did not maintain a particularly stunning pace. After having being fired he mainly walked around muttering about the “fascists,” Slobodan and Armas. It was even worse after Slobodan turned up at eight o’clock to have a glass of grappa. Then Gonzo seemed to move in slow motion.

It was Tessie, assisted by Eva, who managed to maintain the level of service and Eva’s respect for her increased even more.

At half past nine things calmed down. The last desserts were going
out, the party of golfers had disbanded after lounging in the bar for an hour, the rest of the dinner guests were gradually paying and leaving. Eva sat down. Donald had started scrubbing down the meat stove; Feo, who was putting finishing touches on the last desserts, offered Eva an ice cream, which she declined, while Johnny started to cover things in plastic wrap, clear things away, and put them into cold storage.

Måns, the bartender, looked in.

“There’s a phone call for you, Eva. You can take it in here,” he said rapidly, and left again.

Eva looked around, bewildered. Feo pointed to the wall where the telephone was mounted. The kids, she thought, and an image of Patrik’s bleeding face appeared in her mind.

She listened without saying more than “yes,” “no,” and “of course,” then she replaced the receiver.

“I have to go home,” she said. “I have to stop now.”

“Has something happened?”

She shook her head, but changed her tack as quickly.

“It was the police,” she said.

“The police?” Feo asked.

“And to think I’m on a bike,” she sobbed. “Can someone call me a cab?”

“I can take you,” Johnny said, immediately untying his apron. “I took the car today. The rest of you can manage, can’t you?”

Donald nodded.

A patrol car was parked
outside the front of the building, and a group of teenagers had assembled in the yard. Eva recognized many of them. A few were classmates of either Hugo or Patrik.

Johnny accompanied Eva into the apartment. She had not said a single word during the drive to explain what had happened. Johnny suffered with her and the silent anxiety that drove her to lean forward in her seat with one hand on the dashboard.

There were two police officers in the kitchen, one female and one male. Two unfamiliar and frightening people in her kitchen, two gigantic
figures who took up the entire room, that was how Eva perceived them and they gave her a feeling of terror.

There is no security, she thought. Everything breaks down, the joy of the past week with a new job, a new hairstyle, and a new life. All of that had been brushed aside.

“What has happened? Where is Patrik?”

She stared at Hugo who was sitting wedged in between the wall and one of the officers.

“Come here!”

Hugo got up and stood behind her.

“We’re looking for Patrik. We have received a report of an assault and we have reason to believe he was involved.”

It was the female officer who was speaking.

“Assault? You think Patrik assaulted someone?”

“Wouldn’t you like to sit down?”

Eva shook her head, suddenly infuriated by the fact that these two were occupying her home, her kitchen. This was a place for Eva, Patrik, and Hugo and no one else!

“Was it necessary to drive a police car up to the front of the building?” Johnny asked.

“Who are you? Are you Patrik’s father?”

“I’m a colleague of Eva’s,” Johnny said. “I gave her a ride here.”

“Perhaps you could leave us now.”

“He stays,” Eva said.

“Okay,” the male officer said. “We know that a man was assaulted in this area last night. This evening someone was stabbed. We have reason to believe it is the same man. He is being treated at a hospital for his injuries. He is in fairly bad shape.”

He looked fixedly at Eva while he spoke.

“We believe that Patrik had a part in this. There are a couple of witnesses who say he was there, at least last night. Do you know where your son is?”

“No, I’ve just come from work.”

“So you have no idea of where your son may have been last night or where he is right now?”

“What is your name?”

“I introduced myself before but I can do so again. I am Harry Andersson, and my colleague is Barbro Liljendahl.”

“Do you have any children?”

He nodded.

“How old are they?”

“That’s not relevant to the matter at hand.”

“Do you know exactly what they are doing right now?”

“That isn’t relevant in this context.”

“Don’t come here, you little shit, and tell me how I should raise my children.”

“I understand that you are upset, and naturally we are not here to criticize you, but you have to understand that it is our duty to follow up on anything that can have a bearing on an assault case. Especially when there is a knife involved.”

“Patrik doesn’t own a knife.”

“Tell us about last night,” Barbro Liljendahl urged.

Eva felt Hugo’s arms around her middle.

“Hugo came home and went to bed around ten o’clock. I sat up and waited for Patrik who was supposed to be home by ten-thirty at the latest, but I fell asleep on the couch. I was really tired. When I woke up in the middle of the night, Patrik was home. He was sleeping in his room. Then I went to bed too.”

“So you don’t know when Patrik came home?”

“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?”