The Drowned Boy

11

Marian Zita’s fast-food café was in the pedestrian zone between the square and 7-Eleven. It had red awnings over the windows and a sign above the door read ZITA QUICK. There were twenty settings inside, and the whole place was saturated with the smell of fried food and spices. A girl wearing red nylon overalls and a hairnet was standing behind the counter.

“Can I help you?” she said. “Do you want to eat in? Or take out? The chairs in here are quite comfortable, but the ones outside are wrought iron, so we get quite a few complaints. Just so you know. So, how can I help you?” she said again. Her cheeks were flushed, perhaps because Skarre was a handsome sight in his immaculate uniform, with his blond curls under the black cap.

“Is something wrong?”

Sejer nodded to one of the tables at the back of the café. “Could be,” he said seriously. “Can you sit down for a couple of minutes?”

She nodded, came around from behind the counter, and walked toward them. She’s about the same age as Carmen, Sejer thought, or maybe a little older. Certainly no more than twenty-two.

“Um, well,” she stammered, “I just thought, is it to do with Carmen and Nicolai’s baby?”

Sejer gave her a reassuring look. She was wearing a locket around her neck, which might have a photo of her sweetheart inside. She sat there playing with it now, obviously nervous and anxious.

“Yes,” he replied. “We just want to talk to you a little about what happened up at Damtjern. You see, that’s what we do when someone dies. Especially if it’s a child.”

“But it was an accident, wasn’t it?” she said. “He fell off the jetty? That’s what Pappa Zita said when he called yesterday — that Tommy had wandered out of the kitchen and down to the pond. I almost couldn’t understand what he was saying. He was so upset, and I’ve never heard him like that before. It was scary. He’s always so big and strong, but he was crying like a baby. I had to ask him to repeat himself a few times, and it was difficult to know what to say. To be honest, I don’t even remember what I said. I was lost for words. I was pretty useless, really.”

“How well do you know Carmen and Nicolai?” Sejer asked.

She looked at them, one and then the other, her eyes as brown as horse chestnuts. She seemed to be honest and sincere.

“Not very well. I’m just a cover,” she explained. “I work when someone’s ill or on vacation, that sort of thing. And I’m working today because of Tommy. I mean, I speak to them sometimes, and I really feel for them right now. I don’t even know where to begin. Tommy’s a good boy, even if he is a bit different. There’s something good about children like that. They steal a piece of your heart.”

“That’s a nice thing to say,” Sejer remarked. “If only everyone could see it like that, things would be a lot better. Do you know what they were like as parents? They’re so young. What about Nicolai? What kind of father was he? Tell me what you know.”

“He was over the moon,” she said. “Never angry or anything like that. He really loved Tommy just the way he was.”

“And what about Carmen?” he probed.

“Well, Carmen,” she started, and then paused. “I think basically it bothered her. And I can understand that, since it must be really hard. Or maybe she was just embarrassed. She certainly never talked about it. She never talked about Tommy at all, which I thought was a bit weird. Most people love to talk about their children, but she wasn’t like that. If anyone mentioned that he was different, she immediately changed the subject, to the weather or something like that. Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you, but it’s the truth. I’ve thought about it quite a lot. Having a child that you constantly have to explain to everyone else must be so hard and exhausting. You can’t ever get away from it. It’s always there, just think about it. Different and slow and in need of help. Different today and different every day for the rest of their lives.”

She sighed, paused, and shifted her position in the chair. As if she was suddenly uncomfortable that she had just admitted this. But they were from the police and she automatically felt she had to tell the truth at all costs. It just seemed to flow out of her.

“People could see he wasn’t right,” she continued, “and I think Carmen hated having to answer all the questions. But I’m sure she loved him as well, in her own way. Don’t you think? I mean, people come to love their children, no matter what.”

“Yes, that’s what we believe too,” Skarre assured her. “So, you’ll be getting a lot of shifts now. And I guess no one knows when they’ll be back at work?”

“Yes, I’ll do all I can to help, and I need the money. It’s just awful. I don’t know what to say, really. To think that things like this happen, it’s horrible.”

“Have you ever looked after him? Babysat or anything like that?”

“Yes, actually,” she said. “Just once. I went to their house up at Damtjern. It was Pappa Zita’s fiftieth and they were having a big party for him at that place at Granfoss. They thought it would be best if Tommy didn’t go. There was a band and all that, and they thought that maybe there would be too much noise for him.”

Sejer sat for a while thinking.

“What’s your name?” he asked after a pause.

“Elisabeth,” she replied.

“Elisabeth. Right. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course. I’m OK with that,” she said with a slight smile. She adjusted her hairnet and folded her hands on the table, waiting like a schoolgirl.

“Do you have children?”

“No, I don’t have children. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

Skarre looked at her intently. “You mean right now, today, you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, because we broke up on Friday,” she said and let out a light, tinkling laugh. Her laughter was cheering in the midst of all the sadness.

“But,” Sejer pushed, “if you were expecting a baby, that is, you and a possible partner — which you don’t have at the moment, but still, a boyfriend — and the doctor did an amnio, as they do on some women these days when they think there is a risk. Imagine that you were told that the baby you were carrying had Down syndrome. Would you have an abortion? Or would you choose to have the baby? Sorry to be so intrusive, and I understand if you don’t want to answer. I’m just curious.”

Elisabeth was silent. They could see that she really was pondering it. It was a difficult question.

“Be honest,” Skarre interjected. “I mean, be as honest as you can. We’re not going to judge you, you can be sure of that.”

“I hope I never have to make that choice,” she said in the end. “And I know it’s awful, but I think I would have an abortion. I mean, it’s a choice that affects the rest of your life.”

Sejer and Skarre nodded.

“What about Carmen and Nicolai. Did they know that Tommy had Down syndrome beforehand?”

“No, I’m fairly sure they didn’t. If they did, they kept it secret, but we would have been able to tell. No one talked about it after he was born either; it was only after a while that it started to come out. But Pappa Zita was really upset about it. He was worried about Carmen, which is understandable. Because they only have her now. They lost her twin sister nineteen years ago, if you didn’t already know. And I’m sure all that’s coming up again now. Jesus, I can’t imagine all that tragedy.” She wrapped the chain and pendant around her fingers and looked very dejected.

“Thank you, Elisabeth,” Sejer said. “And now we’d like you to make a burger for us as we haven’t eaten since breakfast. And we’d like you to do it with love, because then it always tastes better.”

She laughed and pushed back the chair. Then she disappeared behind the counter again. Perhaps she was relieved that the conversation was over, but they both noticed a wrinkle on her forehead, as though she was worried about something she’d said. In case she had weakened someone’s case. If there was a case. While she made the food, Sejer went over to look at all the certificates hanging on the wall. The town’s best burger 2006, the town’s best burger 2007. And so on, in a long line. And then a brass plaque: OPEN 24 HOURS.

“What would you have done?” Skarre asked him, while they waited for their burgers. “With a baby like that.”

Sejer thought about it. The smell of burgers wafted into the room.

“I would have had to listen to Elise and taken her feelings into consideration. No matter what we say about equality, it’s the mother who’s closest. But deep down, I think I would have hoped she’d have an abortion. Oh yes — now you’re going to give me a hard time, but to be fair it gives me a taste of my own medicine. And yes, I think choices like that are horrendous. And we have to make so many in life. By nature we tend to die before our children, and it must be so hard to know you’re going to die before a child that will always need help. What about you? Would you see it as God’s will and therefore feel obliged to keep a child with Down syndrome?”

“Good question,” Skarre said. “You don’t make it any easier for me. And ultimately, I think I would also choose not to have the child. But not without an ocean of bad conscience.”