Eva's Eye

30

She waited in the dark. There wasn’t a breeze anymore, the wind came in capricious squalls over the roof of the bus station, and her ponytail slapped about her ears, which were freezing now, because her hair wasn’t hanging over them and warming them as it usually did. Her thoughts wandered, here and there, back to the time when they’d been girls. Suddenly she saw her so clearly in her mind’s eye, an image from a summer, perhaps they’d been eleven at the time. Maja was wearing that American bathing suit she’d been so proud of. Her uncle had bought it for her, the uncle who was on a whaler and always came home bearing exciting gifts. Sometimes a little of his bounty even showered down on Eva as well. Boxes of chocolates and American chewing gum. The bathing suit was bright red and amusingly crinkly. It had elastic criss-crossing it and this made the material crinkle into tiny bubbles. No one else had a swimming suit like it. When Maja came out of the sea, the bubbles were full of water and even bigger, and made her look like a huge raspberry. This was the image she gazed at now, Maja coming out of the water, the water running off and splashing around her feet, her hair even darker because it was wet, wearing the best swimming suit on the entire beach. Again and again Maja comes up from the water. She grins and displays her white teeth, for she knows nothing about the future and how it will all end.

The money was now safely stashed in her father’s cellar. She’d practically slung the tin in a corner, where it looked almost as valueless as it had done in the workroom at the cabin. Her father never went down there, he couldn’t manage the difficult cellar stairs. Nobody else went there either, unless his home help went down for something, but she didn’t think so. Home helps didn’t do either attics or cellars, it said so in their terms and conditions.

The bus station was the ugliest building Eva knew, a long gray concrete box with empty windows. She’d parked around the back, down by the railway lines, now she leaned against the kiosk and looked up at the bridge from where she knew he’d come. He would turn right, disappear behind the bank for a moment, and then glide up to the front of the kiosk. He wouldn’t come out and introduce himself, he wasn’t that sort, just remain sitting in the car, push his nose under the windshield and peer up at her, maybe give a quick nod, a sort of signal that she could come. She’d have to sit next to him with only the gear stick between them. You sat quite close together in a car, she thought, so close that she’d catch his smell, and his voice would be directly in her left ear. That terse, unfriendly voice. She cleared her throat nervously as she formulated her opening line. Maybe one to make the blood freeze in his veins? She rejected the idea and stared at the cars passing regularly with a brief swish over the bridge above. They couldn’t wait to get out of the windswept town. Everyone had an objective, no one strolled about at random, not on an evening like this.

The buses rumbled good-naturedly over by their stops, and people dived into their brightness and warmth. There was something nice about the red buses. The trusty driver bent over his steering wheel, giving a lazy nod each time a few coins jingled into his hand, and the faces behind the windows, autumn-pale with eyes that stared, unseeing. On a bus you were in no-man’s-land, left to your own thoughts, all you did was sit and vibrate in the warmth. All at once she felt the urge to sit at one of those windows, take the bus around the town and see how everyone found their own secure bolt-holes. Instead she stood here getting cold, rubbing herself with icy hands in the gloves that were far too thin, waiting for a murderer. When he suddenly turned the corner, Eva let out all the air she had in her lungs. From then on they filled and emptied in a special rhythm, one that nothing could influence, it was like being inside an iron lung. It was vital to keep concentrating, she mustn’t let it slip, mustn’t say too much, just feel her way cautiously. He was slowing down, she saw him put the car in neutral and lean against the window. His expression was doltish and vaguely skeptical. She opened the door and sat down. He was grasping the gear stick, as if this was a toy he wasn’t going to share with anyone, as if sending out a warning. Then he nodded quickly.

She did up her seat belt. “Drive around for a bit, then I’ll have a go afterwards.”

He made no reply, but put the car in gear and drove away across the marked bus lanes. She knew he was waiting for something, as if she should speak first, because she was the one who’d taken the initiative, who wanted a new car.

I’m no damn coward, Eva thought.

“So you’re not frightened of picking up strangers on the road?” she said sweetly.

It was 9:40 on October 4 and Eva’s record was as clean as new-fallen snow.

His left hand rested languidly on the steering wheel, and he never let go of the gear change, that stubby, sporty gear stick, with his right. She sat staring at them. Short, square hands with thick fingers. They were smooth, hairless, the one on the steering wheel was relaxed, the one grasping the gear stick was a pale claw. They were like something she’d seen in Emma’s books, blind, colorless submarine creatures. His thighs were short and fat, and threatened to burst the seams of his jeans, his stomach protruded from his skimpy, ribbed leather jacket. He could have been five months pregnant.

“So now you want to get yourself a Manta?” he said, jiggling backward and forward in his seat.

“I’m a little sentimental,” she said tersely. “I had one once, but had to sell it. I never got over it.”

I’m sitting right next to him, she thought with astonishment, and I’m talking as if nothing’s happened.

“So what do you drive now?”

“An old Ascona,” she said and smiled. “It’s not quite the same.”

“Too right.”

They were halfway across the bridge now, he indicated left as they came to the main street.

“Drive out towards Fossen,” she said, “there’s a bit of flat country there where we can speed up a bit.”

“Oh yes? You want some speed?”

He chuckled and rocked backward and forward again; it was a juvenile habit which made him seem unintelligent, primitive, exactly the way she remembered him. She felt old next to him, but presumably they were the same age, possibly he was a couple of years younger. His pot belly didn’t budge when he moved, it appeared to be as hard as stone. His pale face flared up with each streetlight. A wan face without character, almost expressionless.

“I’ll drive out to the aerodrome, and you can drive back. Far enough, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sure.”

He flexed his right hand to get some air across his sweaty palm and drove even faster. The porky figure in his tight-fitting clothes was reminiscent of a well-filled sausage. He was certainly much stronger than she was, in any case he’d been stronger than Maja. But he’d been sitting on top. She tried to imagine how it would have been if Maja had been quicker and had stabbed him instead, then the two of them would have had a corpse on their hands. It could easily have happened like that, it was strange. Life was so fortuitous.

“This is the GSi model, in case you’re wondering.”

“D’you think I’m a complete beginner?”

“No, no, I was just mentioning it,” he mumbled. “There’s nothing wrong with the engine, let me tell you. Zero to a hundred in ten seconds. She can get close to two hundred, if you’re up for it. But women have a funny way of driving,” he said, jiggling, “they let the car decide. Just sort of sit there and get taken along for the ride.”

“That’s fast enough for me. The seats are good,” she added.

“Recaro seats.”

“Is the sunroof electric?”

“No, manual. Much better, the electric ones pack up quicker. Cost an arm and a leg to repair. The trunk is 490 liters, and has a light. If you’re fannying about with a kid’s buggy, and that.”

“Well, thank you! Does it drink petrol?”

“No, no, this here’s just average. It does zero point six. A liter maybe in cities. You’ve got to reckon on that.”

“I’ve looked at it several times,” she let drop.

“Oh? What for?” Now he sounded suspicious.

“I had to get some money together first.”

“Have you got enough, that’s the question.”

“I have.”

“You haven’t asked the price.”

“I haven’t thought about that yet. I’ll make you an offer you won’t be able to refuse.”

“Wow, you talk like a Mafia boss.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t really want to sell it.”

“No, but you’re greedy like everyone else, so that’ll be all right.” She wriggled a bit. She could feel the knife, it was pressing into her thigh. I’m no damn coward, she thought.

“And this offer of yours,” he said clearing his throat, “how big is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. I’ll drive it first, check under the bonnet and the body, and in daylight too. And I’ll need an AA test, of course.”

“D’you want a Manta or don’t you?”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to sell.”

There was silence in the car, which had become hot and humid, the windows were misting up. He turned on the fan to clear them. Eva turned one last time and stared back at the town. The occasional welder’s flame could be seen from the new railway bridge that was under construction. The traffic became sparser and they were approaching the point where the street lighting ended. He went left at the roundabout and continued along the south side of the river. It was less of a torrent up here, but the current was powerful enough. After a few minutes’ silence he suddenly turned to the right. The aerodrome was on their left, while he rolled down a bumpy track and through a small clump of trees, halting on an open piece of ground right down by the river’s edge. Eva felt uncomfortable. There were no people nearby. The engine was still running, it purred softly and dependably, there was no doubting the car was in good condition.

“Ace fishing spot,” he said, pulling on the handbrake.

“Ninety-two thousand,” she put in quickly, “is that right? You haven’t wound the clock back?”

“Christ, is there no limit to your damn suspicions!”

“I just think it seems very low. This is a typical bloke’s car, and blokes tend to drive a lot. My Ascona is an ’eighty-two model and it’s done a hundred and sixty.”

“Well, it’s about time you had a new car, then. Want to take a look at the works?”

“It’s pitch black outside.”

“I’ve got a torch.” He turned off the engine and climbed out of the car.

Eva gathered herself for a moment and opened the door, a terrific gust of wind almost tore it out of her hand. “Damn weather!”

“It’s called autumn.” He raised the bonnet and secured it. “I admit that the engine’s been cleaned today. You wouldn’t have been able to see anything otherwise.”

Eva moved to his side and stared down at the shiny engine. “God, just like the family silver.”

“Yeah, isn’t it just?” He turned and grinned. One eye tooth was missing. “Nice stuff they make at Opel. Really great to work on.”

“Possibly so, but I won’t be doing it myself.”

“Didn’t think so. I’ve got some spare parts, they’re included in the sale, if we go ahead, that is.”

“And what’ll you get instead?”

“Not quite sure, I’m very tempted by a BMW. We’ll have to see. About this famous offer of yours.” He bent down again, and Eva saw his large bottom in the tight jeans. There was a wide strip of naked skin between his belt and his leather jacket. White and moist as bread dough. “I think I’ve found that oil leak here. It’s only a gasket. It’ll cost... maybe thirty or forty kroner. I’m sure to have one at home.”

Eva didn’t answer. She kept on staring at his backside, his white skin. He had a bald patch at the back of his head. She forgot to reply. In the silence she heard the rush of the river, an even roar. That poor bus driver, she thought, he’s probably still sitting in the interview room. He’s sick of the instant coffee by now and is struggling with his missing alibi. People haven’t always got an alibi, or perhaps he had one he didn’t want to use. Perhaps he had a girlfriend, and if he said anything about her his marriage would fall apart, if it hadn’t already done so. And his neighbors would be thinking things, and his grandchildren would have to find something to say to all those snotty little faces in the playground, when the rumor began to circulate that their grandfather was suspected of killing that tart in Tordenskioldsgate. Maybe he’d got a weak heart, maybe he’d have a heart attack and die while he was being interviewed. He was the right age, fifty-seven. Or maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend at all, but only dreamt of one, and had simply been driving around to be on his own, to get away for a bit. Stopped at a roadside kiosk and had something to eat, perhaps, or wandered along the river and got a bit of fresh air. And no one believed it, because grown men who’re old enough to be grandads don’t drive around aimlessly, unless they’re perverts, or have a lover. That one about the hot-dog stand won’t wash with us, you’ll have to do better than that. So, for the last time: when did you last visit Maja Durban?

“Here, the torch.” He’d straightened up again. He pushed it into her hand. She stood shining the light down at the grass. “Or I can hold it and you can look.”

“No,” she stammered, “it’s not necessary. I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, I’ll take your word. Buying a car is a matter of trust.”

“I think you ought to give it the once over. You’ve got to see just how great this is, there aren’t many blokes who keep engines the way I do. And it’s only had one previous owner. No one else is allowed to drive it either, the wife hasn’t got a license. I’m telling you, your offer better be good. And when we’ve signed the contract, I want you to have seen all over it, I don’t want any of this coming back afterwards, complaining about this and that.”

“I’m not a fool,” she riposted. “As far as this car’s concerned, I think I can trust you.”

“You bet you can. But women sometimes get funny ideas, that’s why I’m mentioning it. Sometimes they’ve got unpleasant things up their sleeve, in a manner of speaking.”

The knife, she thought.

He snorted mucus up his nose, and went on: “I’ve just got to make certain you can do a proper deal.”

She trembled. Raised the torch and shone it in his face. “Yes, I can. I’ll pay, and I’ll get the goods I’ve asked for. Don’t you think it’s wonderful, the way everything can be bought for money?”

“I haven’t been offered any money yet.”

“That’ll come after the AA test.”

“I thought you said you trusted me.”

“Only as regards the car.”

He snorted. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You just think about it for a bit.”

The river sent up a surge of writhing water, gave a great swish, and settled again.

He shook his head in disbelief and ducked down over the engine again. “Damn women,” he mumbled. “Coming here dragging some innocent bugger out of his warm garage and into this sodding storm, just to talk a load of piss!”

“Innocent?”

Eva felt the ground sinking beneath her. It made her fade a bit, feel relaxed and strange, she had to support herself on the car, she was standing on the left, just by the rod that was propping up the bonnet.

“What I mean is,” he boomed from the depths of the engine, “that you were the one who wanted the car. And I turn up just like we’d agreed. Don’t see why you’re so damn touchy.”

“Touchy?” she snapped. “D’you call this being touchy? I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse, I’ve seen people go completely berserk for nothing at all!”

He twisted around and looked at her suspiciously. “Christ’s sake, are you schizophrenic or something?” He bent down once more.

Eva gasped and felt her fury gaining the upper hand. It felt like a release, it rose at terrible speed, white hot like a stream of lava, poured up through the regions of her stomach, on into her breast and out along her arms, and she gesticulated wildly in the darkness, suddenly felt that she’d struck something and heard a scraping sound. The prop holding the bonnet up had been knocked away. The heavy metal lid came down with a clang. His bottom and legs protruded from the lip, the rest of him was hidden.

She backed away and screamed. From deep within there came some gurgling noises and a few choice oaths. Terrified, she stared at the bonnet, it must have been heavy, but it lifted a fraction, fell down again, and lifted once more. Eva’s heart was pounding so hard that he must have been able to hear it. She’d ignited his rage, just as Maja had done, and now that blind fury would be directed at her, in just a second or two he’d extricate himself and attack her with all his strength, so she took a few paces forwards, fumbled down her thigh for the pocket, pushed her hand in and found the knife. She pulled it out of its sheath.

“For fuck’s sake!”

He wanted to get up, turn around, but Eva sprang to the side of the car and lay across the bonnet with all her weight. He gave a hollow-sounding scream, as if he were inside a tin. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Losing control!” she screamed. Her voice broke.

“You’re a total fucking nutcase!”

“You’re the one who’s the nutcase!”

“What d’you want, for God’s sake!”

Eva caught her breath and shouted. “I want to know why Maja had to die!”

It went deathly quiet. He attempted to move, but couldn’t budge a millimeter. She heard his respiration, he was breathing fast.

“How the hell do you...”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” She was still pressing down on the bonnet, he’d ceased moving now, he was gasping like an exhausted dog with his face pressed against the engine block.

“I can explain all that...” he gurgled, “it was an accident!”

“Oh no it wasn’t!”

“She had a knife, for Christ’s sake!”

Suddenly he made a gargantuan effort and the bonnet rose, Eva slipped off and landed in the grass, but she was clutching the knife, she saw his hands, the ones that had killed Maja, saw them clench.

“I’ve got one too!”

She jumped to her feet and threw herself over the car once more, he collapsed, the first stab got him in the side, and the knife slipped in fairly easily as into a fresh loaf. The bonnet was holding him like a mouse in a trap. She withdrew the knife, something warm gushed over her glove, but he didn’t cry out, just a small, amazed groan. He was getting ready for another effort and wrenched one arm free, when the second stab penetrated the small of his back, she felt the blade meeting resistance, as if she’d struck bone, she had to yank hard to get it out again, and just then his knees buckled. He sank part of the way to the ground but still hung there and now she couldn’t stop, because he was still moving and she had to silence him, prevent him from making that awful groaning. After a while she worked the knife rhythmically, she thrust and thrust, stabbing him in the back and sides and sometimes hitting the metal of the car, the grille, the fender until she realized at last that he was no longer moving, but hanging there still, completely butchered, like a stuck pig on a hook.

Something frigid and raw gripped Eva with terrific force. She had fallen forward and lay on her stomach in the grass. The river rushed onward as before, completely indifferent. All was quiet. With amazement she registered a paralysis spreading slowly through her entire body, she couldn’t move a muscle, not even her fingers. She hoped someone would find them soon. The ground was wet and chilly and soon she began to feel cold.