Bad Intentions

CHAPTER 9

In her office Hanna Wigert had a blue sofa with a high back. It was a two-seater and had come from her childhood home in Kragerø. When she was a little girl she used to jump up and down on it. She had climbed its tall back and watched the shimmering sea through the windows. Sometimes, in the evenings, she had fallen asleep on it and her father had carried her off to bed without her noticing. When her parents had died she had collected the sofa and put it in her office. It reminded her of goodness. Not everyone had grown up in such fortunate circumstances, and some of those people came to this office. Now the sofa was covered with rag dolls and cuddly toys. They were piled in a big heap, and they took up a lot of room.

She shook Sejer’s hand and asked him to sit down. He moved dolls and animals and she noticed that he handled them with the utmost care. They were not tossed aside, but were gently placed against the armrests of the sofa.

‘What do you want to know?’ Hanna Wigert asked.

Sejer moved a sheep with a curly fleece.

‘What did you think when you heard about Jon’s suicide?’ he said.

‘I was surprised,’ she said.

‘Why?’

She considered this for a long time. Her hair, it struck him, looked like wool. Like the sheep’s.

‘Because it was unexpected,’ she said. ‘Everyone gives off light. You can see it in their eyes or their bodies or in the way they move. You can tell that something drives them. It’s a form of energy. Jon Moreno’s light was still safe and sound.’

His light was safe and sound, Sejer thought. What a lovely way of putting it.

‘He was getting help,’ she said, ‘and he was grateful for that. He kept so much deep inside him, but he was opening up. To some extent it’s also a matter of intuition,’ she said. ‘I’ve been here a long time. I’ve seen many fall by the wayside. But when you called and told me that Jon was dead, I nearly fell off my chair. That shouldn’t happen to a psychiatrist.’

Sejer held up one of the rag dolls. It had short yellow hair made from yarn, blue eyes and it wore a red dress decorated with white beads.

‘Did he ever talk about death?’

‘He never mentioned death at all,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘But that in itself isn’t necessarily significant; suicide can happen without warning. Sometimes the strain builds and we don’t notice. And then lightning strikes.’

Sejer looked at all the dolls that surrounded him.

‘What are they for?’ he asked.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘They’re here to make it cosy. And they serve a practical purpose, too. Opening up and exposing yourself isn’t easy. Your hands have nothing to do. So I give the patients something to handle.

Sejer looked at the rag doll in his lap.

‘They pick very different ones,’ she said. ‘Some are attracted to one in particular, which they always go to fetch when they come here. Others take a new one every time. Others think the whole thing is ridiculous. The doll in your lap is called Lady Di.’

‘They’ve got names?’

‘Nearly all of them.’

Sejer put down Lady Di and picked up a pink velvet pig with a curly tail.

‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘Girls pick this one.’

‘Yes,’ Hanna Wigert smiled. ‘The pig.’

‘What did Jon Moreno do?’

She got up from her chair, dug through the pile and pulled out a rag doll with short black hair.

‘He used to hold this one,’ she said. ‘It’s a boy rag doll and Jon spotted it immediately.’

She held it up to him. It was obviously made by someone who knew their craft. Its eyes and brows were neatly embroidered with shiny black thread. Its hair was short and stuck out, and the doll was wearing blue denim dungarees.

‘Who makes them?’ Sejer asked.

‘The patients,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘In the workshop. New ones arrive every year and some take their favourite dolls home. Others want to leave something behind when they go, so that we will remember them. The teddy is called Barney,’ she said, ‘and the one with the gap between its teeth is called Kurt.’

‘What about Jon’s doll? Does it have a name?’

‘It’s called Kim.’

‘Kim. Why is that?’

‘He told me it reminded him of someone he met once. He wouldn’t say anything more and I don’t know if it was significant, but the doll is called Kim.’

Sejer squeezed the doll’s tummy as though he expected it to squeak.

‘Some people have a negative reaction,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘They think my office is childish. But in time they get used to the rag dolls. It’s important to be a little childish,’ she added and flashed a smile at the inspector. He’s quite attractive, she thought, and she enjoyed playing a bit on her femininity, of which she had plenty when it suited her.

Sejer examined Kim the rag doll with renewed interest. It was roughly thirty centimetres long, made from golden brown canvas and wore tiny socks on its feet.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘Jon didn’t want to go on the trip to the cabin.’

‘Did he say as much?’

She picked up a doll from the pile. Now she needed something to fidget with.

‘He practically begged me not to make him go. But I was so keen to get him out among other people, that I talked him into it. I explained it was vital to keep in touch with the world outside. And he was going with his friends. They would take good care of him. I didn’t take my cue from him. That was unforgivable, and it will haunt me for the rest of my life.’

She slumped a little in her chair. She raised a hand to her eyes.

‘Did he say why he didn’t want to go?’

‘I tried to press him, but he was evasive. And I’m breaking my duty of confidentiality here, but you represent an authority which allows me to do so,’ she said. ‘Jon suffered badly from anxiety. He believed that his anxiety would worsen if he left the ward, that it would overcome him in the forest. And it clearly did.’

‘And yet you’re surprised at what happened,’ he said. ‘What makes someone commits suicide out of the blue?’

She tossed her doll back on the sofa.

‘It’s called a psychological accident,’ she said. ‘Several factors present themselves simultaneously and lead to a fatal outcome.’

‘Such as?’

She thought again.

‘I’m trying to find a story,’ she said, ‘which can illustrate what I mean. I should have quite a few to choose from because I’ve seen this before. Oh, yes, I recall a story from Sweden that’s a good example.’

She leaned forward eagerly.

‘A man spends the weekend at a cabin with some friends,’ she began. ‘They go elk hunting. After a long time he returns home to his wife with fresh elk meat. Monday morning he gets into his car and drives to work. He has a well-paid job with a renowned firm. Then his boss comes into his office and tells him that the company has to cut costs, and that sadly he will have to let him go. In a few seconds he loses everything. His financial independence, his sense of belonging and his status. He gets into his car to drive home, overwhelmed by despondency. His entire world has collapsed. He pulls over at a bus stop, where he sits in despair. Then he remembers that his rifle is still in the boot of his car after the hunting trip. He fetches the weapon, loads it and shoots himself through the head.’

Sejer listened to her story.

‘He didn’t have time to think of another solution,’ he said.

‘Precisely,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘Two things occured simultaneously. A crisis and access to a weapon.’

‘What do you think might have happened to Jon?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t understand it. According to his mother he started getting ill last winter. Up until then he was well-adjusted, but very sensitive. In some way he was predisposed, of course, but we are not aware of any inherited tendencies, and he never hinted at an experience or a trauma which might explain it.’

‘Did he confide in any of the patients?’

‘He became friends with one of the girls here. She doesn’t understand it either.’

She scrutinised him.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

‘It’s pure routine in cases like this one…’

‘In case he didn’t take his own life,’ she completed the sentence for him. ‘But met his death in some other way?’

‘Yes,’ Sejer conceded. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘What have you found out?’

Sejer hesitated.

‘I can’t discuss that,’ he said.

‘But you’ve found something, haven’t you?’

‘Let me put it this way,’ Sejer said. ‘There are a couple of things that disturb us. Details which we don’t understand.’

Hanna Wigert stared down at her lap. She reminded him of a defiant little girl.

‘He couldn’t swim,’ she said.

‘We know,’ Sejer said.

‘Those two friends of his,’ she continued. ‘They had a great deal of power over him.’

‘Where are you going with this?’

She retreated as though she was on shaky ground, and he did not get a reply.

He was still holding Kim in his lap. He pinched the coarse yarn hair and carefully tugged at the tiny white socks. They reminded him of the rubber caps you put on your fingertips when you want to leaf through a stack of papers. Reacting to an impulse, which he could not account for, a small request escaped him.

‘Please may I take this with me?’

‘The doll?’

‘I want to keep it in my office.’

‘But what do you want with it?’

‘It’s a link to Jon,’ he said. ‘And after all, it’s important to be a little childish.’

Afterwards he spoke to Molly Gram.

She refused to come downstairs, but she had said he could go to her room. When he entered, she was sitting on her bed with the white dog on her lap. It was a terrier, he noticed. It pricked up its ears. Sejer held out his hand, but she did not take it. The dog, however, expressed interest: it licked and sniffed it. He pulled out a chair and sat down by her bed.

‘You can ask your questions now,’ she said.

Sejer studied the sullen young woman with paternal interest. Her hair was in a total mess, dry and soft like cotton grass. Underneath the black make-up she was sweet, but she wanted to come across as something else; the make-up served almost as a declaration of war. She was fierce, bitter and dismissive, and it was not up to him to decide if she had good cause to be. For a while he pondered how to approach her. Her body might be small and fragile, he thought, but she had an old head on those young shoulders.

‘There’s a game I like to play when I meet new people,’ he said.

She rolled her eyes. She stroked Melis across his back.

‘I give them a place in the animal kingdom,’ Sejer said. ‘According to their attributes. And their appearance.’

She continued to caress the dog with her fingers as thin as noodles, and he could see that she was listening.

‘I decide very quickly,’ Sejer said, ‘and if an animal doesn’t spring to mind, then I’ll never find out who they are. Some are impossible to categorise or too vague, while others are blatantly obvious.’

Long pause. She had hunched her shoulders, and he noticed a wasp tattoo on her white neck.

‘When I saw you, I made up my mind almost immediately,’ he said. ‘It took me seconds.’

She stopped caressing Melis. Her eye make-up was so dark that it looked like a mask, but this time she was watching him intently.

‘You’re a racoon,’ Sejer said.

She pulled a face. She needed time to decide what she thought about the comparison, but before she had time to feel anything at all, she was interrupted.

‘They’re fast and smart and cheeky,’ Sejer said, ‘and they steal food from others. They’re rogues, and they get everywhere. And they’re beautiful, of course.’

She might be an old soul, but Molly managed a smile. At least Sejer thought he saw something flicker across her face.

‘Do you want me to go on?’ he said. ‘Do you want me to tell you more about the racoon?’

She deigned to shrug, which he took to mean that he could do whatever he wanted.

‘Racoons are very popular,’ he said. ‘Do you know why?’

She did not reply.

‘Molly,’ he said. ‘Can you imagine why everyone wants a racoon?’

‘No,’ she mumbled.

‘Well, this might sound a little brutal,’ he smiled, ‘but you’re no sissy. Their meat is very tasty and their fur is the loveliest in the world. And they happen to thrive in captivity,’ he added. He let his eyes flash around her room.

‘You can put them in cages and they won’t lose their integrity.’

‘They came to fetch Jon’s things,’ she said. ‘Those two friends of his.’

Sejer pricked up his ears.

‘Go on.’

She held Melis up to her face. ‘I can play this game too, and I got Axel’s number at once.’

‘He’s no pussycat,’ Sejer said. ‘We agree on that, don’t we?’

‘He’s a snake,’ she said. ‘He slithers around.’

‘And Reilly?’ Sejer asked.

She pondered this.

‘He’s a lizard,’ she declared. ‘They aren’t easy on the eye, but they’re better than their reputation. The bigger ones can be dangerous to humans and the smaller ones can make good pets. You never know with lizards. Perhaps they become what you make them.’

She put Melis down on the bed, pinched a corner of the duvet and started twisting it.

‘You can ask your questions now,’ she said again.

Sejer looked at the racoon on the bed. She was wearing a red minidress and black knee-high socks.

‘You were the last person to talk to Jon before he got into the car. What did you talk about?’

She kept picking at the duvet.

‘That will remain between Jon and me,’ she said.

‘But can you tell me anything about his state of mind?’

‘State of mind? He was happy.’

‘Really?’ Sejer said. ‘He was happy? I’m sorry. I’m a bit taken aback. It was my impression that he didn’t want to go on the trip at all. That he went along because the staff here thought it was important. But you’re saying that he was happy?’

‘He was happy.’

‘He said so?’

‘You can tell.’

‘Tell me what you saw,’ Sejer asked.

‘He started running,’ she explained. ‘The car pulled up in front of the building and Jon started running.’

Sejer waited but nothing more followed.

‘And that means that he was happy?’

She looked up.

‘No one runs here at Ladegården,’ she sighed. ‘We’re depressed, we drag ourselves around. Surely you can understand that.’

Sejer smiled and shook his head.

‘So what did you say to him?’ he asked. ‘What made him run so fast?’

She grew shy and looked away.

‘That will remain between Jon and me,’ she said. ‘But let me put it this way, we were making plans.’

‘For the future, you mean?’

She nodded. Again she held Melis up to her face.

‘Jon spent the night in the company of those two reptiles,’ she said, ‘and I don’t know what happened.

‘But we had plans.’