Punishment aka What Is Mine

THIRTY-TWO

To be expected, really.”

Alvhild Sofienberg took the story of Aksel Seier’s disappearance remarkably well. She faintly arched an eyebrow, then stroked a distracted finger over her downy upper lip and made a barely audible smacking sound, as if her dentures were loose.

“Lord only knows how I would have reacted to news like that myself. It’s hard to imagine. Impossible. But he looked as if he had a good life?”

“Definitely. Well… it’s actually very hard to say anything about his life based on our brief meeting. He lives in a fantastic place. Right by the sea. A beautiful beach. He has a good house. It seemed like he… fit in. In his surroundings, I mean. The neighbors knew him and cared about him. That’s really all I can say.”

“Incredible,” muttered Alvhild.

“At least, given the circumstances,” said Johanne.

“I mean these new computer things.”

Alvhild waved her fingers around.

“Just think, it took less than a week to find out where in the world Aksel Seier lived. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.”

“Internet.”

Johanne smiled.

“You’ve never thought about getting Internet access? You might enjoy it, as you’re just…”

“Lying here dying,” said Alvhild sharply. “That would be something, wouldn’t it? I’ve only got my IBM typewriter from 1982. Unfortunately it’s a bit heavy to have on my lap, but if I have to, I have to.”

She looked over at the desk by the window, where a berry-red machine stood with a sheet of blank paper at the ready.

“I don’t write much anymore, so it doesn’t really matter. I’ve written my will. My children visit me every day. They’re well cared for and as far as I can see, reasonably happy. The grandchildren seem to be behaving themselves. Sometimes they even come to see me without making it too obvious that they’ve been ordered to do so. I don’t even need a telephone. But if I’d been younger…”

“You’ve got such beautiful eyes,” said Johanne and swallowed. “They are so… blue. They’re so unbelievably blue.”

Alvhild’s smile was fresh, a smile that Johanne didn’t deserve. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. Alvhild’s fingers stroked her cheek, dry and hard, like twigs on a dead tree.

“Now you’ve made me happy, Johanne. My husband used to say exactly the same thing. Always.”

There was a knock at the door. Johanne sat up quickly and pulled away from the bed, as if she’d been caught in the act of doing something wrong.

“I think it’s time for a rest now,” said the nurse.

“I’ve got no say over my life anymore,” Alvhild complained, and rolled her eyes.

Johanne couldn’t withdraw her arm. Alvhild’s hand was grasping her wrist like a clamp.

“You think you can just disappear now then?”

The nurse stood impatiently by the bed, hand on hip and looking at the ceiling.

“Just a minute,” Alvhild said through tight lips. “I’m not quite finished with this young lady. If you wouldn’t mind just waiting in the hall, I’ll soon be ready for my afternoon nap.”

The white uniform withdrew with some hesitation, as if she suspected that Johanne had ulterior motives. They heard that she didn’t go far and the door was left ajar.

“I don’t see what more I can do,” stuttered Johanne. “I’ve read the documents. I agree with you. Everything indicates that Aksel Seier was subject to a gross miscarriage of justice. I’ve found the man, travelled halfway across the world, talked to him. If I was set a task, I’ve completed it.”

Alvhild laughed, a low, hoarse laugh that swiftly changed into a dry cough.

“We don’t give up that easily, Johanne.”

“But what…”

“There must be a notice of death.”

“What?”

“The old woman who went to the police in 1965. She believed that her son was guilty. That’s what led to Aksel Seier’s release! The reason that she went to the police was that her son had died. All I know about the woman is that she lived in Lillestrøm. You and your Internet… Do you think you could find a notice of death in the local paper from June 1965? There would only be mention of one family member.”

Johanne looked over at the door. Something white was moving backward and forward, impatiently.

“One relative. How do you know that?”

“I don’t know,” said Alvhild. “I assume. We’re talking about a grown man living at home with his mother. According to my only source, the prison chaplain, the son was retarded. It sounds to me like one of these sad…”

She waved her hand.

“But enough about that. Try. Look.”

The nurse’s patience was exhausted.

“I must put my foot down now. Mrs. Sofienberg needs all the rest she can get.”

Johanne smiled lamely at Alvhild.

“If I get time, I’ll…”

“You’ve got time, my dear. At your age, you have all the time in the world.”

Johanne didn’t even manage to say good-bye properly. Only when she was out on the street did she realize that Alvhild’s room no longer smelled of onions. She was also reminded of something that she hadn’t thought about since she got back from the States. She had seen something in Aksel Seier’s house, something that had caught her attention, but too late. For one reason or another, she’d been reminded of it up in Alvhild’s room, during their conversation. Something that was said, or something she’d seen.

She developed a headache on the way home.

“His name is the King of America.”

“What?”

It was the ugliest animal Johanne had ever seen. Its fur was the same color as the contents of Kristiane’s diapers when she was at her worst, yellowy-brown with darker, unidentifiable specks. One ear stood straight up and the other flopped down. Its head was too big for its body. The beast’s tail beat like a whisk and it looked as if it was laughing. Its tongue nearly wiped the floor.

“What did you say his name was?”

“The King of America. My dog. Dog tag.”

Kristiane wanted to carry the dog, which seemed enormous to be only three months old. But the puppy didn’t want to be picked up. In the end, Kristiane followed it into the living room, on all fours, with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Where did she get the name from?”

Isak shrugged.

“We’re reading Finn Family Moomintroll at the moment. The one where Moomin is transformed into the King of California. Maybe it’s from there. No idea.”

“Jack,” Kristiane called from the sitting room. “He’s also named Jack.”

A shiver ran down Johanne’s spine.

“What is it?”

Isak stroked her arm.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Yes. I just don’t understand the child.”

“It’s only a name. God, Johanne, it’s nothing to get…”

“Forget it. What have you been up to?”

She turned her back on him. The King of America peed on the living-room carpet. Kristiane was about to pull down a container of cereal from the cupboard in the kitchen. She was standing in the top drawer and could fall at any moment.

“Oops!”

Johanne caught her and tried to give her a hug.

“Jack likes cornflakes,” said Kristiane, and she wriggled loose.

The lid opened and she dropped the container. The dog came running. Soon child and dog were rolling in cornflakes. They crunched against the floor and Kristiane howled with laughter.

“At least she’s enjoying this!” Johanne smiled in resignation. “Why did you choose something so… so ugly?”

“Shhhh!”

Isak laid his finger over her mouth; she pulled back.

“Jack’s beautiful. Has something happened? You look so… there’s something about you.”

“Give me a hand,” she replied curtly, and went to get the vacuum cleaner.

She really could not fathom what had made Kristiane decide to name the dog Jack, King of America.