The Drowned Boy (5 page)

Nicolai sat in silence for a long time, lifting his gaze to look out of the window, while Sejer thought about Carmen. What would her motive have been, if she had in fact thrown Tommy in the pond on purpose? That she couldn’t take any more? That he wasn’t a wanted child, as she claimed he was? That he tied her down? That having a child who was different felt like a burden—an overwhelming, lifelong, all-encompassing, and exhausting obligation that was simply too much? And so today, of all days, on Wednesday, August 10, she had done what she could to get rid of him once and for all? Simply because he was different. Could that really be true? Or was it none of the above. Just a tragic accident of the kind they saw too many of, where no one was to blame?

It was six o’clock in the evening when he let them go. Skarre drove them back to the house. He stood outside and looked around. It was a long way to the nearest neighbors; there were no houses in the immediate vicinity. Something criminal could easily have happened down at the pond that day without another living soul seeing anything.

FRANK DID NOT
try to say hello—Holthemann was not interested—and the dog slunk off obediently to lie in the corner. There was no affection to be had from the chief superintendent, the dog knew this. Holthemann looked up at Sejer, his pale eyes peering from behind his thick and not particularly clean spectacles. His stick, which was leaning against the wall in a corner, had a silver head on which an old coat of arms was engraved. Holthemann had a gimpy leg, a very gimpy leg. His circulation was appalling; the veins clogged right up to his groin. The leg might have to be amputated just above the knee. The very thought sickened his stomach and had resulted in many a sleepless night. He often woke up after only a couple of hours, dripping in sweat, with the image of a bleeding, sawed-off stump. He didn’t want a false leg, no matter what. He had no time for spare parts; he was a proud man. But his leg was discolored from the ankle up and when he pressed his fleshy calf with a finger, it left a dent that stayed there for a long time. It terrified him.

The fact that he moved so slowly fooled many into believing that he was intellectually dull and deliberate, whereas he was actually sharp as a knife, despite his age, disability, and thick glasses.

“So, are you going to arrest them?” he asked with a hint of a smile. “Are there any contradictions?”

“The lovely Miss Carmen Zita is rather confused with regard to the sequence of events,” Sejer told him. “She was hesitant and seemed unsure when I asked her to tell me about what happened today. I know that it’s not much to go on, a minor detail perhaps. And she is in shock. But obviously the confusion could mean something, so I’m keeping an open mind. The father seems to be reliable and his grief is genuine. There’s something artificial about Carmen; I think she’s acting. Though her tears are real enough and the waterworks are constant. Never seen crying like it. And unlike you, I didn’t have any tissues.”

Holthemann leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head.

“It will be hard to present evidence, all the same,” he said. “I mean, if anything suspect has taken place. He could easily have gone down to the water under his own steam. She said he was active and had just learned to walk and was into everything. What does Snorrason say? Have you spoken to him yet?”

“He’s promised to give us the results as soon as possible. But I’m afraid there won’t be any conclusive evidence. What would it be? As far as we can tell, he wasn’t injured in any way. Our first priority has to be establishing whether he was still alive when he fell in the water. I’m trying to think of everything and I may just be seeing ghosts in broad daylight. But ghosts won’t get us very far in court, will they? And I guess we should be happy about that, don’t you agree?”

“You shouldn’t be so proud of our system,” Holthemann admonished. “It’s not infallible. Do we have anything on them from before?”

“No,” Sejer said. “Neither of them has any previous convictions. Your leg”—he changed the subject and nodded at Holthemann’s leg—“is it still alive?”

“Only just,” Holthemann replied gloomily. “I’ve got practically no feeling in it; it’s just numb.”

“Get yourself on a treadmill,” Sejer suggested. “It’ll improve your circulation.”

The chief shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “What will be, will be. No one is going to get me to run like a rat in a wheel.”

TENTH OF AUGUST
. Evening.

Carmen watched him from the window. She stood there for a while, wringing her hands. Nicolai had walked across the yard and onto the jetty. Now he was sitting on the edge and looked terrible. She went down after him, slowly, hesitantly, uncertain what to say. The words she was so frantically trying to catch seemed to grow like toads in her mouth, and suddenly she felt thirsty.

“Nicolai,” she said gently, “he’s never coming back. And we have to deal with it somehow. The future, I mean, and how we cope. Come inside, Nicolai. We have to eat; it’s getting late.” She stood on the jetty and begged and pleaded. But Nicolai was ashen with grief, his thin brown hair bedraggled. She had never seen him like this before, never seen him so helpless and forsaken.

“How can you think about food,” he said, “when Tommy’s gone forever? I just don’t get how you can think about food.”

She sat down beside him and took him by the arm. Her nails against his skin felt like sharp claws.

“If we don’t eat, then we’ll die too. And Tommy wouldn’t have wanted that,” she said seriously.

Nicolai flared up, unable to help himself.

“You know nothing about what Tommy would want,” he said, his voice bitter. “You should have shut the door. You know what he’s like, that he gets everywhere. People say those children are slow, but not our Tommy. He was quick as lightning.”

“Yes, but it was so hot,” she complained. “And you were in the cellar as usual. It’s nice and cool down there, so it’s easy for you to talk. You don’t need to put the blame on me,” she added. “That’s not fair. It’s bad enough as it is, without you making it worse. We’re going to have to talk sometime. We have to sort out the funeral and a whole lot of other things. Pappa Zita will be here soon; he’ll help us get started.”

Nicolai picked at a loose splinter in the dark wood with nails that were bitten to the quick.

“What did they ask you about?” she said after a pause. “They asked me all kinds of things. They even wanted to know if I breastfed him. I don’t see why they have to go into such detail. It just seems nosy to me.”

“You don’t understand anything, do you? You don’t get how serious this is. Tommy’s dead and gone. He drowned, and it’s our fault because we didn’t keep an eye on him. He wanted to know what you were doing when Tommy left the house. What were you doing?”

She thought about it. “I was just puttering around, tidying up, you know. And I wanted to clean the fish for supper. I went into the bathroom to rinse out some washing. Everything happened so fast. And I looked for him in all the rooms before I even thought about the pond. Come on now, we have to go in,” she nagged. “Mom and Dad will be here soon, and they’ll help us with supper.”

“You and your supper,” he snapped. “Just go and stuff your face, why don’t you. I’m not going anywhere. If your dad wants anything, he can come down here to the jetty, because this is where I’m going to be all night.”

She stood up, exasperated and desperate. She looked out at the water and the single water lily. Strange that there was only one, so beautiful and white and delicate. And then she spoke without thinking, the words falling from her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

“We can have another one. We’re so young.”

Nicolai let out a small gasp, as if the thought was monstrous.

“I want to move,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to live by the water, not with children. And I don’t want another one; can you just stop?”

She didn’t reply. Instead she started to walk back to the house, and he followed her slender body with his eyes. There was something strange about her behavior, the way she was walking in her cropped top. In spite of everything, her steps were quick and light, as if she was unaffected by it all. Then a terrible thought struck him, and a shiver ran down his spine despite the warmth in the air. The fact that she seemed so indifferent, that she wanted to engage in life again right away, even though they were in mourning. A deep, bottomless pit of grief. He couldn’t even contemplate food or sleep or work, or the days ahead that would roll on regardless.

“Are you coming?” she turned around and called.

“Didn’t I just say no?” he yelled.

Suddenly he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Go, just go. Go and get on with your life!”

She stood there looking at him, astounded by this outburst. She didn’t recognize him, didn’t know this fury. She had never seen it before.

“Do you want a divorce?” she asked out of the blue. Now she was angry as well, because he was being so horrible and difficult.

“Yes,” he said. “Maybe I do. Then you can grieve in your own weird way.”

MORE THAN ANYTHING
, he wanted to keep her in his shirt pocket, close to his heart. He wanted to take her everywhere with him and protect her from all fear and suffering, protect her from all danger. Because he loved Carmen Cesilie more than anything in the world, this slip of a blond thing who was his daughter. He had a father’s unstinting patience. He held her to him tight, bursting with love. She disappeared into his embrace and stayed there for a long time. Marian Zita was big and heavy, with a sturdy barrel-shaped body, thin legs, and broad duck’s feet. He had thick, curly black hair peppered with gray, and huge worn hands that were used to hard work. In private, Zita had cursed God and the Virgin, all the deities who had betrayed him, raging with sorrow and despair. Carmen cried against his chest, inconsolable. Her father had always been her loyal ally; he stood by her through thick and thin no matter what. And over the years there had been a number of times when she needed his help. Like the time when the boyfriend she had before Nicolai had hit her. And when she became pregnant with Tommy at seventeen. But this was a crisis. Her mother looked around the yard, then further down toward the water, where she saw Nicolai sitting at the end of the jetty.

“How do you think he feels? Shall we go and comfort him?”

“No,” Carmen said. “He doesn’t want it. He just wants to be left alone. He says he’s going to sit there all night. He’s not very good at expressing his emotions—he clams up completely. And then there’s nothing you can do. He just says no. Come on; let’s go in. Maybe he’ll come later. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

Her parents followed her into the house. When her mother saw Tommy’s play blanket on the floor, she started to cry.

“Why didn’t we manage to get the fence sorted?” Zita said wearily. “It will haunt me until my dying day. We could have hired a carpenter; it would have been done in no time.”

Carmen pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.

“We need to eat something,” she said, determined. “When I said that to Nicolai, that we needed food, he got mad at me. I mean, making sure we get sustenance is not exactly being disloyal to Tommy, is it?”

She caught her father’s eye, seeking the comfort she always got. A right that she had taken for granted all her life.

“Is it, Dad?” she begged. “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. It isn’t being disloyal to Tommy if we eat.”

Her father shook his head. “No, sweetheart, of course not. And no matter what Nicolai says, I’m going down to see him.”

Carmen grabbed his arm. “He says it’s my fault,” she said. “That I should have closed the door and kept an eye on him.”

Her father waved his hands around in exasperation. He almost lost his balance. “What has happened is terrible, but it was an accident,” he said. “And no one at all is to blame, especially not you. He just said that in despair. He doesn’t know what he’s saying and he’ll regret it later. I know how it is in the heat of the moment. Don’t forget your sister, Louisa,” he added with feeling. “I know what I’m talking about.”

He stroked her cheek.

“And you know, that’s the thing about grief,” he continued. “We’re no longer rational and it’s hard to think straight. Words just pop out of our mouths that we later live to regret.”

He went out, crossed the yard, and lumbered down to the jetty. The dark planks creaked under his considerable weight.

“How are things?” he asked in a friendly voice. “How are you?”

Nicolai shrugged and kept his eyes focused on the only water lily in the pond. He felt Zita’s large hand on his neck. It was a strong, patriarchal hand that spoke of authority.

“Not good,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not managing this at all. I’m just sitting here, and I don’t intend to move.”

Zita stood without saying anything for a while. He understood Nicolai’s bleak thoughts about the future only too well. Life had not been good to him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Zita said eventually. “I don’t know how to comfort you; there is no comfort. There is nothing I can say.”

He tried to catch his son-in-law’s eye and sat down beside him with his feet dangling over the edge.

“All it takes is a few moments when you’re not paying attention,” he continued. “Everything happens so fast. You have my full sympathy. We’ll support you in every way, you know that. You can count on us.” He raised his voice when he said this and sounded more determined.

“You’ll have all the time you need to grieve. No one can deny you the right to give up. To cry and rage and curse fate. But let me just say one thing.” Zita took a deep breath and said loudly: “I will not allow you ever to blame my daughter.”

Nicolai didn’t say anything for a while. He turned away from the water lily and looked at his father-in-law with melancholy eyes.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he said.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Zita asked promptly. “Explain yourself.”

“It’s not always easy to put a finger on it,” Nicolai tried. “Put it that way.”