Eva's Eye

27

The blobs of foam were like the mountains of Hardanger and the water was boiling hot. Eva dipped one foot in cautiously, it was almost scalded, but the bath couldn’t be hot enough. She would have liked the water inside her body too, inside her veins. On the edge of the tub was a large glass of red wine. She’d thrown the day sack into the rubbish bin and unplugged the phone. Now, she sank into the water, which had turned a pale turquoise color from the bath salts. Heaven couldn’t be better than this. As they thawed, she stretched her fingers and toes. She took a sip of wine and felt the pain in her foot recede a little. Driving had been a nightmare, as her ankle had swollen considerably. She pinched her nose and submerged completely for a moment. When she surfaced again she had a large dot of foam on the top of her head. That’s the picture of a millionaire, she thought with surprise, as she looked at her reflection in the mirror above the bath. The soft blob began to teeter sideways, then slide down to hang beneath her ear. She settled in the water again and did some mental arithmetic. She tried to work out how long the money would last if she used two hundred thousand per year. Well, it would be around ten years. If there really was two million there, she hadn’t counted it yet, but she would once she’d bathed and cleaned up and had some food. The only thing she’d found on the way home was a sweet dispenser that contained nothing but raspberry drops and throat lozenges. She closed her eyes and heard how the foam rustled in her ear as it disintegrated. Her skin was beginning to accustom itself to the temperature; afterward she’d be wrinkled and pink from the hot soapy water, like a baby. It had been a long time since she’d taken a bath. She usually made do with a quick shower, and she’d forgotten just how good it was. Emma was the one who always liked a bath.

She reached out for her wine glass and took several large sips. Afterward, when she’d bathed and counted the money, she would sleep, perhaps right through until it was evening again. The tiredness lay across her eyes like a lump of lead. Now it pulled her head forward until her chin rested on her chest. The last thing she knew was the taste of soap in her mouth.

It was nine o’clock on the morning of October 3. Eva slept on in the cold bath water. She was in the middle of a disturbing dream. As she squirmed in the water to escape it, she slipped forward a little in the bath. Her face submerged. She gasped and inhaled soapy water, coughed and spluttered, attempted to sit up, but the sides of the ceramic tub were slippery; she slid down again, spat and dribbled until the tears flowed, before she finally managed to get herself into a sitting position. She was cold again. Then she heard the doorbell.

Alarmed, she got up and stepped out of the bath. She’d forgotten her injured foot and yelped, staggered a bit because she’d risen so quickly and reached for her dressing gown. Her watch was on the shelf under the mirror, she looked at it quickly and wondered who it could possibly be at this time of day. It was too early for salesmen and beggars, her father didn’t go out, and Emma hadn’t given notice of her arrival. The police! she thought, and tied the belt of the dressing gown. She hadn’t prepared herself, hadn’t had time to think about what she’d say if he actually came again, and now he was here, she was quite certain it was him. That inspector with the searching glance. Of course, she didn’t have to open the door. She was the mistress of her own house, she was in the middle of a bath, and it was an ungodly hour to come asking questions. She only had to remain in the bathroom until he went. He would think she hadn’t got up yet, or perhaps that she’d gone away. Except that the car was outside, but she might have taken the bus, as she sometimes did when she had no money for petrol. What did he want now? At least he knew nothing about Maja’s money, unless she’d left a will which he’d found, perhaps that was precisely what she had done, left all her money to the Women’s Refuge! The thought made her reel. Of course she could. She hadn’t put her money in a safe-deposit box, she had put her will in there instead, a small red book containing the truth about her life. The doorbell rang again. Eva came to a swift decision. There was little point in hiding in the bathroom, he wasn’t going to give up. She made a turban out of her towel, went out into the hall in her bare feet, limping and gasping at each step.

“Mrs. Magnus,” he said smiling, “I’m disturbing you in the middle of your bath, it’s unforgivable of me. I should have come later.”

“I’ve finished anyway,” she answered tersely, standing on the doorstep. He was wearing a leather jacket and jeans and looked like a normal man, not like the enemy at all, she thought. The man by the lake was the enemy, whoever he might be. Perhaps he’d taken the number of her car. She almost had a fit at the thought of it. If so, it wouldn’t be long before he turned up at her door. She hadn’t considered that. A deep furrow appeared in her brow.

“May I come in for a moment?”

She said nothing, just backed against the wall and nodded. In the living room she nodded again at the sofa; she just stood there, stood there like a wall of resistance, he thought, as he seated himself with a studied calm on her black sofa. His trained eye made an almost imperceptible sweep of the black and white room, he noted the bag of raspberry drops on the table, the car keys, her handbag, open, a packet of cigarettes.

“Hurt your foot?” he asked abruptly.

“Only twisted it a bit. Was there anything in particular?” Reluctantly she sat down in the chair facing him.

“Just a few things. I’d like to go through the statement you made last time, from start to finish. There are some details I need more information about.”

Eva was nervous. She fumbled for a cigarette right away and wondered suddenly if she could refuse to answer. She wasn’t suspected of anything after all. Or was she? “Tell me,” she said in a cocky tone, “am I actually obliged to make a statement about this?”

Sejer stared open-mouthed. “No,” he said in surprise, “certainly not!” His eyes, gray in reality, took on an innocent blue tint. “But does that mean you’ve got something against making one? I thought, as she was your friend, that you’d be only too willing. So that we can find the perpetrator. But if you’ve got objections...”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” She recoiled quickly, regretting her question.

“The first of October,” he went on, “Thursday. Let’s begin at the beginning. You took a taxi to Tordenskioldsgate. The taxi got here at six P.M.?”

“Yes, as I said.”

“From what you told me, you spent roughly an hour at Ms. Durban’s apartment.”

“Yes, I must have. Not much longer anyway.” How long had it really been, she thought — two hours?

He’d opened a notebook and was reading from it. It was horrible. Everything she’d said was written down, now he could use it against her. “Can you tell me what you did during that hour? In as much detail as you can?”

“What?” She stared uneasily at him.

“From the time you entered the apartment until she closed the door behind you. Absolutely everything that happened. Just begin at the beginning.”

“Well, er, I had a cup of coffee.”

“Did you wash it up afterwards?”

“Uh?” She felt her head begin to spin.

“I ask because there was no used coffee cup found. But there was a glass which had obviously contained Coke.”

“Oh yes! Of course! Coke. I’m getting mixed up. Does that really matter?”

He gave her a sharp look. And she fell silent again just like the last time. Eva sat staring and waiting, she knew she was sinking in deeper and deeper, there were so many things she hadn’t thought of, far too many.

“Yes, I had a sandwich and a Coke. Maja made me a sandwich.”

“Yes. A tuna sandwich?”

Eva shook her head in wonder. She couldn’t keep up anymore, maybe he’d been there when it happened, she thought, maybe he’d been hiding in a cupboard and seen everything.

“Can you tell me,” he asked all at once, as he changed position on the sofa, he was looking thoughtful and inquisitive, “can you tell me why you vomited that sandwich up again?”

Eva felt like passing out. “Well, I felt ill,” she stammered. “I’d had a couple of beers, and fish doesn’t really agree with me all that much. We’d had such a late night the evening before. And I hadn’t eaten much, I’m not that bothered about food, so I hadn’t eaten anything, and she absolutely insisted I had it, she thought I was thin.” She stopped and drew breath. What was that about saying as little as possible, why couldn’t she remember!

“Was that why you took a shower while you were there? Because you felt ill?”

“Yes!” she replied quickly. Now she was the one who was silent. He saw the beginnings of rebellion in her eyes. Quite soon she would clam up completely.

“You managed to do quite a lot while you were there. In only one hour. Did you also take a little nap, too, in the guest room?”

“A nap?” she asked wanly.

“Someone had lain on the bed in there. Or is the simple truth, Mrs. Magnus, that you were really Durban’s partner, and that you shared the apartment? Just like her, you had a little sideline in prostitution to ease the finances?”

“No!” Eva screamed and stood up. Her chair shot back. “No, I did not! I didn’t want anything to do with it. Maja was the one who tried to persuade me, but I wouldn’t!” She was shaking like a leaf and her face was chalky white. “Maja was always trying to persuade me, she had the oddest ideas. Once, when we were thirteen...” Then she began to sob.

Somewhat taken aback, he stared at the tabletop and waited. Outbursts like these embarrassed him. Suddenly she looked so pathetic. Her turban had come undone and had fallen to her shoulders, her hair was wringing wet.

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Eva whispered, “if you don’t think I’m the one who did it.”

“Obviously that’s a possibility we’ve considered,” he said quietly, “and here I’m not thinking so much about any motive you may have had, or whether you’re capable of killing someone and all that. We go into that later on. In the first instance we look at who was in the vicinity, who, in purely physical terms, had the opportunity to commit this murder. Then we look at alibi. And lastly,” he said, nodding, “we consider motive. And in this case the fact is that you were there just a short time before she died. But let me make it quite clear at once — we’re certain that Ms. Durban’s murderer was a man.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes?”

“I mean, wasn’t it one of her clients?”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Well, I — wasn’t it though? That was what the papers said!”

He nodded and leaned forward. He smells nice, she thought, like Dad when he was younger.

“Tell me what happened.”

She sat down again, made a terrific effort, and approached the truth in tiny increments. She ought to tell him now, what had happened, that evening on the footstool. And he’d ask why on earth she hadn’t confessed all this at once. It was because, she thought, she was a fickle person, someone lacking discipline and character, undependable, cowardly, with questionable morals, who didn’t stand up for an old friend who’d meant so much, but who’d then taken her money instead, she could hardly believe it was true, it was unbearable.

“We haven’t got much money, me and Emma,” she mumbled. “It’s always been like that, ever since Jostein went away. I told Maja about it. She wanted me to solve the problem her way. I was to borrow the spare room. We were at Hannah’s and we were drunk. I began to consider her proposition, I was so tired and I couldn’t take any more sleepless nights, threats in the mail, and disconnected phones. So we arranged that I’d return — and try it. She would help. Show me the ropes.”

“Yes?”

“I was slightly pissed when I arrived, I couldn’t face being sober, because then the decision would sort of become concrete, I came as arranged, and I’d decided...”

She stopped, because just then it had actually dawned on her, in all its horror. She was a potential prostitute. And now he knew it too.

“But then I couldn’t go through with it. Maja gave me a Coke and I sobered up as I was sitting there, and my courage evaporated. I thought they might take Emma away if it got out. It made me ill, I ran away from the whole thing. But before that she explained certain things to me.”

“Explained what?”

“Well, how things worked.”

“Did she show you the knife?”

Eva held back for a moment. “She did show me the knife. She said it was to engender fear and respect. I was lying on the bed. That was when I got frightened,” Eva said quickly. “That was when I decided to pull out. I don’t know how you managed to find all this out, I don’t understand anything.”

“The knife obviously wasn’t much help?” he said doubtfully.

“No, she...” Eva stopped dead.

“What were you about to say?”

“She probably wasn’t tough enough.”

“Your fingerprints were all over the apartment,” he went on. “Even,” he said slowly, “on the phone. Who did you phone?”

“Fingerprints?” Her fingers curled at the thought of it. Perhaps they’d been in her house while she was up in the mountains, perhaps they’d picked the lock and tiptoed about with those small brushes they used.

“Who did you phone, Eva?”

“No one! But I did consider — phoning Jostein,” she lied.

“Jostein Magnus?”

“Yes, my ex. Emma’s father.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Well, I simply changed my mind. He walked out on me, I didn’t want to ask him for anything. I got dressed and left. I told Maja that what she was doing could be dangerous, but she only smiled. Maja never listened to anyone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this the first time I came?”

“I was embarrassed. I really did consider becoming a prostitute, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone knowing it.”

“I’ve never, ever, in all my life looked down on women who are prostitutes,” he said simply.

He rose from the sofa as if he were satisfied. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

He stood for a short while out on the steps, gazing at the drive, looking at the car and at Emma’s bike, which was propped against the house. Then his stare moved further out, down the street to the other houses, as if trying to form an opinion about the area she lived in, what sort of person she was to live just here, in this neighborhood, in this house.

“Did you get the impression that Ms. Durban had a lot of money?”

The question came suddenly.

“Oh yes. All her things were expensive. She ate in restaurants and that sort of thing.”

“We’re wondering if she might have had a tidy sum stashed away somewhere,” he said, “and that someone might have known about it.” His gaze struck her like a laser beam right between the eyes and she blinked in terror. “Her husband arrived by plane from France yesterday, we’re hoping he can tell us something when we get him in for questioning.”

“What?” She steadied herself on the door frame.

“Ms. Durban’s husband,” Sejer repeated. “You look frightened.”

“I didn’t know she had one,” she said lamely.

“No? Didn’t she say?” He frowned. “That’s a bit strange, her not saying anything, if you were old friends?”

If, she thought. If we really were old friends. If I’m telling the truth. She could go on talking till the cows came home, he obviously wouldn’t believe her.

“Nothing more to add, Mrs. Magnus?”

Eva shook her head. She was petrified. The man who’d arrived at the cabin could have been Maja’s husband. Searching for his inheritance. Perhaps, perhaps one day he’d turn up on her doorstep. Maybe during the night when she was asleep. Maja could have told him that they’d met. If she’d had time. She might have phoned. International call to France. Sejer went down the four wrought-iron steps and halted on the gravel.

“You should put an ankle like that in hot water. Make sure you wrap a bandage around it.”

Then he left.