When the Devil Holds the Candle (20 page)

"Something terrible has happened!"

She sank onto a chair at the table and rummaged in her handbag for a cigarette. The radio was blasting gypsy tunes; she glanced at it and then, in despair, started shouting over the music. "I've called you several times. Why didn't you answer?" then, "Can't you turn that radio down?"

I went to the radio and turned it down, but just a little.

"What's wrong?"

"Andreas," she gasped. "Andreas is missing."

"What do you mean, missing?"

I gave her a look of incomprehension. But I needn't have worried: she was completely absorbed in her misery. That was actually quite typical of Runi. She didn't really see me at all, just stared down into her own unhappiness.

"He hasn't been home for two days. I've been to see the police."

"The police?" I was appalled.

"I reported him missing."

I pulled my cardigan tighter and listened intently for sounds from the cellar, but I didn't hear anything. Maybe he had fainted, or fallen asleep.
Dear God,
I thought,
even though I don't believe in you, please make him sleep!

"But isn't Andreas often away from home?" I said. "Have you called his father?"

"The police have been out to talk to him. Andreas isn't there."

"What about his friends?"

"He only has one friend, and he doesn't know anything. Something has happened to him, I'm sure of it. Good Lord! I feel so desperate. What if he ran away? We're always fighting. I was never satisfied with him, and maybe now he's had enough. I'm going crazy with this waiting. It's driving me crazy, Irma!" She leaned forward and began to sob. She sobbed for a long time, while I tried to think of something to say. I'm not very
good with words, and I started to feel a little embarrassed. Besides, I thought I could hear a sound from the cellar. Some sort of clicking noise. Faint, but definitely there. He couldn't move, so it had to be something else. I searched frantically for an explanation. What if Runi heard it? But she would never dream that Andreas was lying in my cellar with his neck broken. She didn't have that much imagination.

"Had he got himself mixed up in something?" I asked. It was like sprinkling water on frying oil: Runi at once started sputtering.

"Don't talk like that! You sound just like his father. Andreas would never do anything illegal, if that's what you're insinuating. But so many strange things go on in this town, especially at night, that I fear the worst. I feel as if I'm going crazy when I think about everything that might have happened."

She kept on crying, but more quietly now. I should offer her something, I thought, but then she would stay even longer, so I didn't.

"Do you have any coffee?" she suddenly asked. I was annoyed, but couldn't very well refuse; she might get suspicious. Runi isn't especially bright, but she can be shrewd, in a primitive sort of way. I got up and turned on the coffeemaker. That's when I heard the sound again. Runi was lost in her own thoughts. Her cigarette was sending a thin, disgusting stream of smoke toward the ceiling.

"You should try calling everybody," I said with my back turned. It's important to keep the conversation going, I thought. As long as we keep talking she won't hear the noise from the cellar. "What about the people at work?" I said. "Have you talked to them?"

"Of course I have."

"He might have run off with a girl," I said. "He's so handsome, that Andreas. Having himself a little adventure. Did he have much money?"

"I can't think that he did. He doesn't make much, and he's always sharing what he does earn with Zipp. If he had gone off with Zipp, I could understand it. But Zipp is at home. He's fine."

"Zipp?"

"His friend. They're inseparable."

"Oh? Inseparable?"

I took two cups from the cupboard, listening. It was a faint sound, from something thin and light.

"I'm going to ask the police to report Andreas missing on TV. With a photograph and everything. Apparently every time they run something on the evening news they get lots of calls. There's always somebody who knows something."

"That's not really true, is it?"

"That's what they say."

"They? Who are 'they'?"

"People I've talked to."

"But wouldn't anyone who knew something call the police, TV news or no TV news?"

I fumbled with the filter and spilled coffee on the counter, but she didn't notice.

"No. They often have good reasons for keeping quiet."

"What do you mean?"

I took a sugar bowl out of the cupboard and set it on the table. The sound from the cellar had stopped. Was he lying there listening to us? Had he recognized his mother's voice through the floorboards? Runi had such a shrill voice.

"Please, turn off that music!" she said. "I can't even think!"

"All right, all right."

I turned it down a little more. She gave me a look of surprise that I didn't do as she asked. All my life I'd done what people told me to do, but not anymore. I left the radio on. She shook her head.

"What should I do?" she pleaded.

"I'm sure he'll come back soon," I said clumsily.

"You don't understand anything! You don't realize how serious this is. Two days. Just think what could happen in two days!"

"He's not exactly a child," I objected.

"Oh yes, he is. He's my child!"

"I mean, he's probably off doing something. Something that he might not..." I stopped and shrugged my shoulders.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just thinking aloud. You don't usually worry about him."

"But this time he's disappeared!"

"Yes."

I put my hand on her arm. It was odd: not once, in all the years that had passed, had I ever done that before. She looked at my hand in astonishment.

"If they come over here," she said, "the police, to talk to you, will you promise me one thing?"

"Come over here?" There was a knot in my breast.

"Well, you know him, after all."

"No, no! I don't know him!" I felt the color leave my face. "He's never been at home when I've come to visit you. Once or twice, but no more than that."

"What are you saying?" She looked at me with dismay.

"I just mean that I've hardly ever set eyes on him, Runi."

"But you know perfectly well who he is! Don't talk like that!" She threw out her hands. "I'm just begging you to put in a good word for him. They're going to ask you what kind of a boy he is. I don't want them to think that he takes drugs or gets drunk, or anything like that. You just have to tell them the truth, that he's a good boy!"

I was starting to sweat under my arms. I'm usually so dry and unflustered. "I don't know much about what he does in his free time," I said.

"Good Lord, Irma, just do this for me, will you?"

"I can't lie to the police." She looked so upset that I bit back my words.

"Lie to them? I'm not asking you to do that. You just have to tell them the truth. Andreas is a decent young man with a steady job. I don't want them to get the impression that he's mixed up in anything bad, because then they won't put any real effort into looking for him. They'll leave him to his own devices. If only he were a girl! Then it's a different story; so many other things could happen. That's how they think. It's been hard enough, let me tell you, to get them to take this seriously!"

"I'm sorry, Runi. I didn't mean it. But I hope they don't ask me. They won't come here if you don't give them my name. There must be others who know him better. You know I don't really know him."

"So you won't help me?"

She was so stunned, I thought she'd fall out of her chair.

"Yes, of course I will."

"I gave them your name a long time ago. They want to talk to everybody who knows him."

I stood up and started tidying the counter, even though it didn't really need it. I moved the spice jars around, and the potted plants. I didn't want her to see that I was on the verge of coming apart myself. The police at the door. And then I heard that sound again. I turned up the radio and stared out of the window in a panic.

"Oh, please—"

"It's just that you make me so nervous," I stammered.

"What's the matter with you? And why aren't you at work?" she asked all of a sudden, as if she were noticing me for the first time. It was horrible.

"I'm not feeling very well. It will pass."

She said nothing, and I, too, fell silent. Outside, the wind was blowing faintly. The birch trees leaned over the roof of the gazebo as if to nudge the green shingles, in a cautious warning of fiercer autumn storms to come.

"Do you know what I was reading about in the newspaper?" Runi said quietly.

"No."

"I was reading about a bunch of teenagers who had a party in the room one of them lived in. You know, the kind of thing they're always doing. Perfectly innocent. Maybe a beer or two."

"And?" I tried to think about my own youth. I'd never gone to a party in anyone's room. Henry and I used to walk down the street by ourselves. He was very shy.

"One of them had a new girlfriend, and one of the others began to ... you know. Chat her up. The first boy got so angry that he took a shotgun and shot her in the face. She died instantly."

"I read about that. Why are you talking about it now?"

"I was thinking about Andreas. And about everything that could happen!"

"But surely you don't think anyone has shot him, do you? You don't believe that, do you?"

She started crying again. "No. But no matter how terrible it might be, I'd rather know about it than live with this uncertainty. What did I do wrong, Irma?"

I could have rattled off a whole long list of things, but it was too late for that.

"I think you should go home and go to bed," I said firmly.

"Go to bed?" She looked at me in disbelief. "Why should I go to bed?"

"You look worn out. It would do you good to get some rest. And you should stay near the phone. In case he calls."

"In case he calls," she repeated, like a faint echo.

"Or the police. When they find him."

"I can't bear to be alone in the house. I'm going out of my mind."

Good Lord! She's come here to ask if she can stay with me,
I thought.
Stay in my house!
I got up and moved nervously around the room.

"What is it, Irma? You look really upset."

"No, but I just feel so uneasy when you tell me all these things. And I'm not feeling well, either. I really should be in bed myself."

Runi got to her feet. Her look had changed, and I waited to hear what she'd say next.

"Okay, I'm going." She sounded bitter and she looked dumbfounded, hurt beyond words. I stayed where I was, giving her a guilty look.

"I don't understand you," she went on. "I've never understood you."

"There's not much to understand," I snapped.

Something started tightening inside me. I could feel it quite distinctly. I was moving away, toward somewhere safe where she wouldn't be able to reach me.

"Aren't we friends anymore?" She gave me a searching look.

"There's so much you don't know," I said.

"But you never tell me anything."

"It's not worth hearing. I am best off alone."

She pulled on her coat, picked up her handbag from the chair. For a moment she stood there, wavering. Her eyes filled with tears.

"When Henry left you, I tried to give you support. You weren't so high and mighty in those days. Have you forgotten that, Irma? And that time when you were sick. I've tried, at any rate. Just go to bed. I won't bother you anymore."

She made for the front door. I could have cried, I was so relieved to get her out of the house. At the door she stopped and gave me a quizzical look.

"What's that noise?"

"What noise?"

"Something in the cellar. Can't you hear it?"

"No, I hear..."

"Hush. Be quiet."

"Oh. That."

I glanced over my shoulder, toward the trapdoor to the cellar. And I told her, as I realized, myself, what it must be.

"It's the boiler. It clicks like that when it's on."

"Good-bye, Irma."

I said nothing, just stared at her.
Go now, Runi. Leave me in peace.
As soon as she closed the door, I turned the key in the lock. Afterward, I stood there for a long time, leaning against a chest of drawers. When I raised my head again, I saw my face in the mirror. Perfectly composed.

"My name is Irma," I said aloud. "And this is my house."

I went down to the cellar and sat on the steps. I had the lantern in my hand. It's beautiful, I thought, the tiny flame and the light flickering across his face. Andreas opened his eyes. He didn't look scared. He just lay there, waiting. Then he caught sight of the lantern. I held it in front of his eyes. He frowned.

"Now you're making me very happy. I'm going to read to you from the newspaper. There's something I want you to hear."

I smiled as I spoke. I liked the fact that he had to lie there and couldn't escape, that he had to listen to me. A man had to lie still and listen to Irma Funder and everything she had to say. A handsome man, one of those who thought everything in life was for him: the immortal type. You have to understand what this means to a woman like me. Now I was making the rules, and imposing them: on him. It feels good to make the decisions.

"Listen to this. I can't understand things like this, I can't understand these kinds of people." And then I read aloud: "'On September 1, Central Hospital reported today, a woman came to the emergency room with her infant son, who had suffered a fall.'"

Andreas looked as if he were bored, or maybe asleep. But I knew he was listening, I could see it in his face, and the hours dragged down there in the cellar. He had to take what little diversion he could get.

"'The child was examined, and the doctor pronounced him unharmed. The mother went home reassured.'"

Now Andreas was breathing rapidly and calmly, almost like a little child.

"'Later the same night, the woman telephoned the hospital. She had found her baby dead in his crib.'"

Andreas opened his eyes.