Mind's eye

28

“Could you please tell me a bit about the accident, Mr. Berger?

I promise I shan’t trouble you for much longer.”

Berger poked around in the glowing embers. Remained sitting for a while with his arms between his knees, staring into the fire, before he started.

“It was the first of June. A Saturday. We were invited to the Molnars, a colleague of mine: they have a house in the Maarensjoarna lake district. We were going to stay overnight.

When it was time to eat, we realized that Willie had disappeared. He was four, had just celebrated his fourth birthday.

The Molnars had two children, a few years older. They’d all been playing in the garden. Willie had said he needed to go to the lavatory. We didn’t find him until Sunday morning. Some fishermen pulled his body out of an inlet-he’d floated with the current for nearly three kilometers.”

He fell silent and lit a cigarette.

“How far was it from the house to the lake?”

“Only a hundred meters. We’d been swimming earlier, but Willie knew he wasn’t allowed to go there on his own.”

“Was there a thorough investigation?”

“Yes, but there wasn’t much to say. Willie had presumably wandered onto the jetty and fallen in the water. He had all his clothes on, so he hadn’t gone swimming on his own. Chief Inspector, do we really have to go through all this? I told the full story to your colleague. . Munster, was that his name?”

Van Veeteren nodded.

“What about Eva’s reaction, could you talk about that? I understand that it’s difficult for you, but I’m looking for a murderer, Mr. Berger. Somebody killed Eva, somebody killed Janek Mitter, her new husband. There must be a reason why.

I’m afraid it’s necessary to follow up every clue.”

“I understand. I hope you can understand the trauma caused by the death of a child. We can accept that adults die, even if it happens suddenly and unexpectedly; but when a little boy, only four years old, is snatched away from you. . Well, it can seem as if everything-and I really do mean everything-is meaningless. Any reaction at all has to be regarded as normal.”

“Eva was the one who reacted worst?”

Berger nodded.

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Berger poured himself a small whiskey.

“Would you like some?”

Van Veeteren shook his head. Berger dug into the ice cubes with the tongs, but failed to ensnare one. He put the tongs on the table and used his fingers instead. Dropped three or four half-melted ice cubes into his glass and licked his fingers.

Manners, Van Veeteren thought.

“Eva, yes. .” said Berger. “She lost control of herself completely, it would be fair to say.”

“How?”

“How? She became hysterical. She seemed out of her mind. It was impossible to make her see reason, or to get a sensible comment out of her. She wanted to kill herself-we had to keep an eye on her all day and night. And fill her with drugs, of course.”

“How long did this last?”

“The whole summer. It was. . it was sheer hell, Inspector.

I didn’t get a chance to grieve myself; all my strength was needed to keep Eva alive. As I was the stronger, I had to carry the whole burden. But I suppose that’s the way it is. .” He laughed. “Nineteen eighty-six is not a year that I would like to live through again, Inspector. Everything happened in 1986; maybe I should have gone to an astrologer and checked the stars. There must have been some terrifying constellations.”

“Was Eva at home or in the hospital?”

“Both. At first she was mainly in the hospital. She had to be watched over constantly. I was there as well most of the time.

As the weeks went by I took her home more and more, but I didn’t dare leave her on her own. I didn’t start work again until October.”

“But she got better?”

“Yes. When the summer was over it was clear to me that she no longer intended to take her own life.”

“Did you discuss the accident?”

“Never. I tried, of course; but it was absolutely impossible to talk about that. We never mentioned Willie, and she insisted that we throw away all his things. I managed to hide some away for myself. But it was as if he’d never existed, as if she wanted to obliterate even his memory.”

“Photographs?”

“The same. I gave a few pictures to a good friend, who kept them safe for me.”

“Didn’t you think her reaction was strange?”

“Yes, of course. I spoke to several psychologists and psychiatrists, and it’s obvious that Eva’s behavior was psychotic. But even so, it was an improvement compared with the summer.

She managed to survive some days with hardly any problems at all.”

“Did she get help?”

“You mean psychiatric help? All the time.”

“When did she start drinking?”

“Around the time I started work again, I think. Possibly a bit earlier. But it was when she was alone at home that it really got out of hand.”

“Why didn’t she go to work?”

“We spoke about it. She’d been at home ever since Willie was born. I thought it would make things easier for her if she had something to do during the day. I think she agreed, but we kept putting it off. In any case, she wasn’t exactly in the right condition to stand in front of a class of schoolchildren.”

“That doesn’t usually seem to be a problem,” said Van Veeteren, and Berger gave a little smile. “And the drinking got worse?”

“Yes. It went very quickly. Before we knew where we were, she was like a sponge. Every single day she was dead drunk by the time I got home. She was drinking four or five bottles of wine a day; it was awful. In November, about the same time of year as now, in fact, I decided we couldn’t go on like that any longer. I called a good friend of mine in Rejmershus, and they took her in right away. I think that was her salvation, they really did manage to help her. She stayed there until May, May 1987. And when she came out, she was in working order again.”

“When did you divorce?”

“In April. It was what Eva wanted. She was absolutely adamant. Right from the very start, when she was at her worst, she was quite definite that she wanted a divorce. Ah well, shit and hellfire.”

His voice suddenly broke, weighed down with bitterness.

About time, Van Veeteren thought. He fumbled in his breast pocket for a toothpick, but found a cigarette instead. He lit it, and waited for what Berger was going to say next. But he said nothing.

“You must have had a hell of a time,” Van Veeteren said eventually. “Your wife is unfaithful, your son dies, your wife goes crazy, you rescue her and bring her back to life. And by way of thanks, she divorces you. . ”

Berger laughed dryly.

“Did you love her?”

“What do you think?”

“How long?”

“November, or thereabouts. All the drunkenness and vom -

iting and humiliation-it became too much.”

“I understand.”

“Maybe I managed to raise some new hope in January or February, when I saw that she was getting better, but there again. .”

“What?”

“I’d met Leila by then.”

Van Veeteren nodded. Sat there for a while without speaking, thinking things over, then made to stand up. He asked his last questions on his feet, while Berger remained seated, rotating his whiskey glass and staring into the fire.

He’s suffering, Van Veeteren thought. The whole business is still very much alive and painful as far as he’s concerned.

Thank God for that.

“Do you know a psychiatrist by the name of Eduard

Caen?”

“Yes, he took care of Eva at Rejmershus. Later on as well, I think.”

“What do you think of him?”

“Very good, as far as I know. But I’ve only met him very briefly.”

“I see. . And that man, the one you suspect your wife had an affair with, did he ever turn up again?”

“No. . No, he didn’t.”

“Did you ever speak about him?”

“No.”

“Do you know of any other men who played a part in Eva’s life?”

“Before we divorced, or after?”

“Why not both?”

“Afterward, nothing. Before. . Well, when we first met she was only twenty-two and almost virginal. . No, I’m afraid I can’t help you there, Chief Inspector. Let’s say, I don’t think there were many.”

Van Veeteren shrugged.

“Anyway, very many thanks,” he said. “If you should happen to think of anything, anything at all, no matter how small, that you think might be of significance, please get in touch.”

He handed over his card. Berger put it in his wallet. He stood up, and Van Veeteren noted that he was slightly intoxicated. He was no longer the prototype of success. In Van Veeteren’s eyes, that was without a shadow of a doubt a distinct improvement.

Out in the hall they shook hands and Berger held on while he tried to control his emotions.

“I hope you get him, Chief Inspector,” he said. “I hope you nail the bastard who did this, and put him behind bars.”

I hope so as well, Van Veeteren thought as he raised his collar in an attempt to protect himself from the damp night air.