Don't Look Back

CHAPTER 10

Astrid Johnas owned a wool shop on the west side of Oslo.

She was sitting at a knitting machine and working on something soft and angora-like, perhaps something for a new-born. He walked across the room and cleared his throat, stopping behind her to admire her work with a slightly awkward expression on his face.

"I'm making a blanket," she said, smiling. "To put in a baby's pram. I make them on commission."

He stared at her, at first with some surprise. She was a good deal older than her former husband. But more than that, she was astonishingly beautiful, and for a moment her beauty took his breath away. Hers was not the gentle, restrained beauty that Elise had possessed, but rather a dark beauty evident at first glance. Against his will he stood there staring at her. It was only then that he noticed her fragrance, perhaps because she gestured towards him. She smelled like a sweet shop, with the faint scent of vanilla.

"Konrad Sejer," he said. "From the police."

"I thought so." She gave him a smile. "Sometimes I wonder why it's always so easy to tell, even when you're not wearing a uniform."

He blushed and wondered whether he might have acquired a different posture or a way of dressing after so many years on the police force, or whether she was simply more astute than most people.

She stood up and turned off her work lamp.

"Come into the back room. I have a small office where I eat my lunch."

She moved in a very feminine way.

"This whole thing with Annie is so awful that I almost can't even think about it. And I feel so guilty for not going to the funeral, but to be honest, I just couldn't face it. I sent flowers."

She pointed to a chair. He stared at her, slowly overcome by an almost forgotten sensation. He was with a beautiful woman, and there was no one else in the room that he could hide behind. She smiled at him, as if the same thought had occurred to her. But she didn't lose her composure. After all, she had always been beautiful.

"I knew Annie well. She spent a lot of time at our house and took care of Eskil. We had a son who died last year," she said. "His name was Eskil."

"I know."

"You've talked to Henning, of course. Unfortunately, we lost contact with her afterwards; she didn't come to see us any more. Poor thing, I felt so sorry for her. She was only 14, and at that age it's not easy to know what to say."

Sejer nodded as he fumbled with the buttons on his jacket. It was suddenly very warm in the small office.

"Have you any idea who might have done it?" she asked.

"No," he said. "At the moment we're just gathering information. Then we'll see if we can move on to what we call the tactical phase."

"I'm afraid I won't be of much help." She looked down at her hands. "I knew her well; she was a lovely girl, much smarter and nicer than most girls her age. She was never silly. She trained hard and kept in shape and paid attention in school. She was pretty too. She had a boyfriend, a boy named Halvor. But maybe they weren't together any more?"

"Yes, they were," he said.

There was a pause. He waited to see what her reaction would be.

"What is it you want to know?"

He said nothing, studying her. She had a trim, slender figure and dark eyes. All of her clothes were knitted, like one big advertisement for her shop. An attractive suit with a straight skirt and fitted jacket, deep red with green and mustard-coloured borders. Black, low-heeled shoes. A simple, straight hair style. Lipstick that matched the red in her outfit. Bronze arrowhead earrings, partially hidden by her dark hair. Some years younger than Sejer, with the first hint of fine lines at her eyes and mouth. She was clearly much older than her former husband. Her son Eskil must have been born at the very end of her youth.

"I'm not looking for anything in particular," he said. So Annie came to your house to baby-sit Eskil?"

"Several times a week," she said. "No one else wanted to baby-sit for him; he wasn't easy to deal with. But you've probably heard this already."

"Yes, it was mentioned," he lied.

"He was so full of energy, almost bordering on the abnormal. Hyperactive, I guess it's called. You know, up and down, always restless."

She gave a rather helpless laugh. "I hope you understand that this isn't an easy thing to admit. But to be quite frank, he was a difficult child. Annie was one of the few who could handle him."

She paused and thought for a moment. "She came over a lot. Henning and I were always so worn out, and it was a blessing whenever she appeared in the doorway, smiling and offering to baby-sit. He would sit in the pushchair, and we usually gave them some money so they could go downtown and buy something. Sweets or ice cream or something like that. It would take them an hour or two; I think she deliberately took her time. Now and then they'd take the bus into the city and be gone the whole day. They would ride around in the little train at the marketplace. I was working the night shift at the hospital and often needed to sleep during the day, so it was a welcome break for me. We have another son, Magne. But he was too old to go out pushing a pram. At any rate, he didn't want to. So he wriggled out of it, as most boys do."

She smiled again and shifted her position on the chair. Every time she moved he noticed the scent of vanilla. She kept an eye on the shop door as she spoke, but no one came in. Talking about her son seemed to make her uneasy. Her eyes were on everything except Sejer's face, flitting around like a bird trapped in much too small a space, moving from the shelves of wool to the table to the front of the shop.

"How old was Eskil when he died?" Sejer asked.

"Only 27 months," she whispered, and seemed to flinch.

"Did it happen while Annie was baby-sitting him?"

She glanced up. "No, thank God. I kept on saying how lucky that was; it would have been unbearable. It was bad enough for poor Annie; she didn't need to have that on her conscience too."

Another pause. He breathed as quietly as he could and took a new approach.

"But… what kind of accident was it?"

"I thought you talked to Henning," she said.

"I did," he lied. "But he didn't go into detail."

"Eskil got some food caught in his throat," she said. "I was upstairs in bed. Henning was in the bathroom shaving and didn't hear a thing. But Eskil couldn't scream anyway, with the food caught in his throat. He was strapped to his chair with a harness, the kind children have at that age. They are meant for their protection. He was sitting there eating his breakfast."

"I know them. I have a daughter and a grandchild," he said.

She swallowed and then went on. "Henning found him hanging in the harness, blue in the face. It took the ambulance more than 20 minutes to arrive, and by then there was no hope."

"They came from the central hospital?"

"Yes."

Sejer looked at the front room of the shop and saw a woman at the window. She was admiring a jumper that Mrs Johnas had on display.

"So it happened in the morning?"

"Early in the morning," she said.

"And you were asleep the whole time, is that right?"

Suddenly she looked him straight in the eye. "I thought you wanted to talk about Annie."

"You're welcome to tell me something about Annie," he said, and he felt a twinge in his chest.

But she didn't say anything. She sat up and crossed her arms.

"I take it you've talked to everybody who lives in Krystallen?"

"Yes, we have."

"So you already know all about this?"

"Yes, that's true. But what concerns me is Annie's reaction to the accident," he said. "The fact that she reacted so strongly."

"That's not so strange, is it?" she said, her voice a little sharp. "When a two-year-old dies like that. A boy she knew well. They were very attached to each other, and Annie was proud of the fact that she was really the only one who could handle him."

"I suppose it's not so strange. I'm just trying to find out who she was. What she was like."

"But I told you. I'm not trying to be uncooperative, but it's not easy to talk about this." She looked directly at him again. "But… you're looking for a sex criminal, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're not? Well, that's what I assumed straight away, since it said that she was found naked. You know, after reading the papers, and they're always talking about sex." Now she was blushing as she fidgeted with her fingers. "What else could it be?"

"That's the question. As far as we know, she had no enemies. But if the motive wasn't sex, then the question is: what was it?"

"Those kinds of people probably aren't very logical. I mean, crazy people. They don't think like the rest of us."

"We have no idea how crazy he might be. How long were you married to your husband?"

She gave a start. "For 15 years. I was pregnant with Magne when we got married. Henning – he's a lot younger than I am," she said, as if to confirm something that she thought might have surprised him. "Eskil was actually the result of long discussions, but we were in total agreement, we really were."

"A kind of afterthought?"

"Yes." She stared at the ceiling, as if there were something of interest up there.

"So your older son is getting on for 17 now?"

She nodded.

"Does he have contact with his father?"

She gave him a look of dismay. "Of course he does! He often goes to Lundeby to visit old friends. But it's not always easy for us. After everything that has happened."

"Do you go out to Eskil's grave very often?"

"No," she said. "But Henning tends to it. It's difficult for me. As long as I know it's being looked after, I can bear it."

He thought about the neglected grave. Then the door opened and a young man came into the shop. Mrs Johnas glanced up.

"Magne! I'm in here!"

Sejer turned and studied her son. He bore a strong resemblance to his father, although he was much more heavily built. He paused in the doorway, apparently reluctant to talk. His expression was stony and remote; it suited his black hair and the bulging muscles of his upper arms.

"I must get going, Mrs Johnas," Sejer said, standing up. "You'll forgive me if I have to come back another time."

He nodded to mother and son, and was gone. Mrs Johnas stared after him for a long time and then gave her son an agonised look.

"He's investigating Annie's murder," she said. "But all he wanted to talk about was Eskil."

Outside the shop, Sejer paused for a moment. A motorcycle was parked next to the entrance; perhaps it belonged to Magne Johnas. A big Kawasaki. Leaning on the motorcycle, with her rear end against the seat, was a young woman. She didn't notice him because she was concentrating on her nails. Maybe she'd broken one of them and was now trying to save it by scraping at the break with another fingernail. She was wearing a short red leather jacket covered with studs, and she had a cloud of blonde hair that reminded him of angel-hair, the kind they used to put on the Christmas tree when he was a child. Then she looked up. He smiled and straightened his jacket.

"Hello, Sølvi," he said, and headed across the street.

He drove slowly, ordering his thoughts in neat rows. Eskil Johnas. A difficult child whom only Annie could handle. And who suddenly died, all alone, harnessed to his chair, with no one to help him. He thought of his own grandson and shivered as he took the Lundeby exit and headed for Halvor's house.

Halvor Muntz was standing in the kitchen, running cold water over some spaghetti. He kept forgetting to eat. Now he felt dizzy, and the sleeping pill he had taken in the night had left him feeling heavy and sluggish. He didn't hear the car pull up outside because the water was gushing out of the tap. But he heard his grandmother slam the door, mutter something to herself and shuffle across the floor in her Nike trainers with their black stripes. She looked comical. On the counter stood a bottle of ketchup and a bowl of grated cheese. He remembered that he had forgotten to add salt. His grandmother was groaning in the living room.

"Look what I found in the shed, Halvor!"

Something fell to the floor with a thud. He peeked into the room.

"An old school bag," she said. "With books inside. It's fun to look at old textbooks. I didn't know you were saving them."

Halvor took two steps forward and then stopped abruptly. From the buckle on the bag hung a bottle opener with an ad for Coke on it.

"That's Annie's," he whispered.

A pen had leaked blue ink through the leather and made little blotches along the bottom of the zippered compartment.

"Did she leave it here?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "I'll put it in my room for the time being and take it over to Eddie later."

His grandmother looked at him, and an anxious expression spread over her wrinkled face. Suddenly a familiar figure appeared in the dimly lit hallway. Halvor felt his heart sink; he stiffened and stood as if frozen to the spot, with the bag dangling from one strap.

"Halvor," Sejer said. "You'll have to come with me."

Halvor swayed and had to take a step sideways in order not to fall. The ceiling was moving down towards him, soon he would be crushed against the floor.

"You can take the bag to Annie's house on the way," his grandmother said nervously, twisting her wedding ring, which was much too big, around and around. Halvor didn't reply. The room was starting to swirl around him, and sweat poured out of him as he stood there shaking, with the bag in his hand. It wasn't very heavy because Annie had removed most of its contents. Inside was Sigrid Undset's novel The Wreath, the new biography of the author, and a notebook – along with her wallet, which contained a picture of him from the previous summer when he looked tanned and handsome, with his hair bleached by the sun. Not as he looked now, with sweat on his forehead and his face chalk-white with fear.

The mood was tense. Normally he had no trouble staying the course and taking whatever came his way. But now he felt caught off guard.

"You realise that this was necessary?" Sejer said.

"Yes."

Halvor raised one leg and studied his trainer, the frayed laces and the sole, which was beginning to separate along the edges.

"Annie's school bag was found in the shed at your house, which directly connects you with the murder. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes. But you're wrong."

"Since you were Annie's boyfriend, you were a suspect. The problem was that we couldn't charge you with anything. But now your grandmother has done the job for us. I'm sure you hadn't expected that, Halvor, since she isn't very mobile. All of a sudden she decides to clean out the shed. Who would have thought that would happen?"

"I have no idea where it came from! She found it in the shed, that's all I know."

"Behind a foam mattress?"

Halvor's face looked grimy and paler then ever. From time to time the taut corner of his mouth would twitch, as if finally, after a very long time, it wanted to tear itself away.

"Someone's trying to frame me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Someone must have put the bag there. I heard someone sneaking around outside my window the other night."

Sejer smiled sadly.

"Go ahead and sneer," Halvor said, "but it's true. Somebody put it there, someone wants me to take the blame, someone who knew that Annie and I were together. So it has to be someone she knew, doesn't it?"

He gave the chief inspector a stubborn stare.

"I've always thought that the killer knew her," Sejer said. "I think he knew her well. Maybe as well as you did?"

"I didn't do it! Listen to me! I didn't do it!"

He wiped his brow and tried to calm down.

"Do you think there's someone we should talk to that we might have overlooked?"

"I have no idea."

"A new boyfriend, for instance?"

"There wasn't anyone else."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She would have told me."

"Do you think girls come running to confess the minute they fall for someone else? How many girlfriends have you had, Halvor?"

"She would have told me. You don't know Annie."

"No, I didn't. And I realise that she was unusal. But she must have had some things in common with other girls, don't you think, Halvor? A few things?"

"I don't know any other girls."

He huddled on his chair. Stuck a finger between the rubber sole and the canvas of his shoe and began prising them apart.

"Why don't you look for fingerprints on the bag?"

"We will, of course. But it's not hard to wipe them clean. I have a strong suspicion that we won't find a single one, except for yours and your grandmother's."

"I never touched it before. Not until today."

"We'll see. Finding the bag also gives us reason to do a closer check on your motorcycle and gear and helmet. And the house you live in. Is there anything you need before we continue?"

"No."

The gap in his shoe was now quite big. He pulled his hand away.

"Do I have to stay here tonight?"

"I'm afraid so. If you could look at the situation objectively, you'd understand that I have to hold you."

"For how long?"

"I don't know yet."

He looked at the boy's face across the table and changed tactics.

"What have you been writing on your PC, Halvor? You sit in front of the monitor for hours, from the minute you get home after work until close to midnight every day. Can you tell me what you've been doing?"

Halvor looked up. "Have you been spying on me?

"In a way. We've been spying on a lot of people lately. Are you writing a diary?"

"I just play games. Chess, for example."

"With yourself?"

"With the Virgin Mary," he said.

Seje; blinked. "I would advise you to tell me what you know. You're keeping something from me, Halvor, I'm sure of that. Were there two of you? Are you covering up for someone?"

Halvor remained silent.

"If we end up charging you, we may have to confiscate your PC."

"Go ahead," he said, smiling suddenly. "But you won't be able to get in!"

"We won't get in? Why not?"

Halvor stopped talking and went back to working on his trainer.

"Because you've put a password on it?"

His mouth was dry, but he didn't want to beg for a Coke. In the refrigerator at home he had a Vørter beer; he sat there thinking about it.

"So I assume that it contains something important, since you've made sure that no one could find it."

"I just did it for fun."

"Could you give me more than one-line answers, Halvor?"

"There's nothing important. Just things I scribble when I'm bored."

Sejer stood up, and his chair slid back without a sound on the linoleum.

"You look thirsty. I'll get us a couple of Cokes."

Sejer left and the office closed in around Halvor. There was now a real hole in his trainer, and he peered at his filthy tennis sock. Far off in the distance he could hear a siren, but he couldn't tell what kind of emergency vehicle it came from. Otherwise there was a steady hum in the big building, like the sound in a movie theatre before the film starts. Sejer came back with two bottles and an opener.

"I'm going to open the window a little. OK?"

Halvor nodded. "I didn't do it."

Sejer found two plastic cups and poured the Coke. Foam spilled over the sides.

"There was no reason for me to do it."

"It's not immediately clear to me either why you would do it." He sighed and took a sip of the Coke. "But that doesn't mean that you didn't have a reason. Sometimes our feelings can run away with us – that's often the simple answer. Has that ever happened to you?"

Halvor didn't reply.

"Do you know Raymond on Kolleveien?"

"The guy with Downs syndrome? I see him in the street once in a while."

"Have you ever been to his house?"

"I've driven past. He has rabbits."

"Ever talk to him?"

"Never."

"Did you know that Knut Jensvoll, who was Annie's coach, once served time for rape?"

"Annie told me that."

"Did anyone else know?"

"I have no idea."

"Did you know the little boy she used to baby-sit for? Eskil Johnas?"

Now he looked up, startled. "Yes! He died."

"Tell me about him."

"Why?"

"Just do as I ask."

"Well, he was sweet… and funny."

"Sweet and funny?"

"Full of energy."

"Difficult?"

"A bit of a handful, maybe. Couldn't sit still. I think he took medication for it. Had to be strapped down all the time, to his chair, in the pushchair. I went along a few times when Annie took care of him. She was the only one who could handle him. But you know, Annie…"

He emptied his cup and wiped his mouth.

"Did you know his parents?"

"I know who they are."

"How about the older son?"

"Magne? I know what he looks like."

"Did he ever show any interest in Annie?"

"Just the usual. Long looks whenever she walked past."

"What did you think about that, Halvor? The fact that other boys were giving your girlfriend the once over?"

"First of all, I was used to it. Second, Annie let them know she wasn't interested."

"And yet she went off with someone. There's an exception here, Halvor."

"I realise that."

Halvor was tired. He closed his eyes. The scar at the corner of his mouth shone like a silver cord in the light from the lamp. "There was a lot about Annie that I didn't understand. Sometimes she'd get angry for no reason, or really irritated, and if I asked what was the matter, she'd get even worse and snap at me, saying that it's not always easy to understand everything in this world."

He gasped for breath.

"So you have a feeling that she knew something? That something was bothering her?"

"I don't know. I guess so. I told Annie a lot about myself. Almost everything. So she should have known that it wasn't dangerous to confide in someone."

"But your own confidences couldn't have been exactly earthshaking. Maybe hers were worse?"

Nothing could have been worse. Nothing in the world.

"Halvor?"

"There was something," he said in a low voice as he opened his eyes again, "that had locked Annie up tighter than a sealed drum."