The Hand that Trembles

FORTY-SIX

‘Fire!’

She was clearly shaken.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Go out on the porch, and you’ll smell it,’ Doris Utman told her neighbour.

Thomas B. Sunesson left his seat on the couch in front of the television – the evening news program had just started – grabbed his cordless phone, slipped on his clogs, and cracked the front door.

The darkness was impenetrable even though the thin snow cover reflected the lights on the garage and created a ghostlike, matte glow over the garden.

‘I can’t smell any kind of building burning,’ he said, ‘but someone must have a fire going in their fireplace.’

‘The wind is coming from the south. I’m thinking about her down that way.’

He understood that Doris was referring to Lisen Morell.

‘Have you called Lasse?’

‘He doesn’t answer. And he never makes fires in the fireplace.’

Thomas knew this as well. Malm’s chimney had been on the verge of collapse for a long time. Lisen Morell had no fireplace, and the wind really was blowing from the south.

‘Ulla and Magnus are in Gimo, I know that much. They are visiting Ulla’s sister.’

He smiled to himself. As usual, Doris Utman was fully informed.

‘And I can’t leave Oskar. He’s doing poorly again. Otherwise I would go and have a look.’

During the autumn Oskar Utman had grown worse and Doris used a pump to extract the mucus her husband lacked the strength to cough up.

‘Doris, I’ll go out and take a look around,’ Sunesson said. ‘I’ll give you a call back later.’

He didn’t like it. Not only would he miss the evening news, he had to go out in the cold. He had looked forward to a relaxing, cozy time on the couch after having been in full swing all afternoon and evening. He had put up the new shower head and done the last of the caulking in the bathroom and after that vacuumed and mopped the entire lower level.

It would in all likelihood be the coldest night of the season thus far. He walked a short distance along the Avenue and realised he should have pulled on a jumper under his jacket.

Suddenly he felt the smell of smoke, stopped, and sniffed the air. Doris was right. He walked on a bit longer, then turned around to get the car.

A tall figure loomed behind the high flames that leapt up from the bonfire in the middle of the garden, and cast an enormous shadow against the house. He’s not right in the head, Thomas thought, making a fire at this time of night!

He turned in and parked behind the pickup, but before he got out he called Doris to calm her fears.

Lasse Malm’s smile looked diabolical in the light of the fire.

‘Got any hot dogs?’ he said in a loud voice, as if to make himself heard above the crackling.

He looked excited. He had a rake in his hand.

‘Doris called,’ Thomas said. ‘She was scared of the smoke smell. Thought the Magpie had turned to arson.’

‘Feels good to get rid of this old shit,’ Lasse Malm said.

‘It’s a bit windy.’

‘It’s not too bad. And there’s a lot of snow besides.’

They stood silent, watching the fire and the sparks that flew around in the darkness.

‘What are you burning? Is it your kitchen cabinets?’

‘No, I’m clearing out the upstairs. I haven’t lifted a finger in years.’

Everyone in Bultudden knew that Lasse Malm rarely went upstairs and above all never into the room where his father had shot himself.

‘Must feel good to get rid of it,’ Thomas agreed, and immediately felt more sympathetically inclined.

The initial outrage over having to go out into the night and then discover that Lasse was burning rubbish late at night and causing Doris to worry had subsided. He took one step closer to the fire and stretched out his hands to the warmth.

‘Have you seen her lately?’

‘Who do you mean?’ Lasse Malm asked.

‘The Magpie.’

‘It’s been a while.’

‘She’s always driving back and forth, but it’s been calm for a while,’ Thomas said while he backed up a step. The heat caused his cheeks to turn red. ‘Maybe there’s something wrong with her car again.’

Lasse pushed some scrap closer to the flames with the rake.

‘Does she have a guy?’ he asked suddenly. ‘I mean, have you seen anyone?’

‘Naw.’ Thomas grinned. ‘I don’t think she puts out.’

‘She doesn’t? Do you mean…’

‘Not that she’s a lesbian, I don’t think that. But she seems a bit strange all around. But she’s good-looking.’

‘You think? Maybe a little skinny?’

‘I like it,’ Thomas said. ‘She’s pretty appetising, don’t you agree?’

Lasse Malm gave him a sideways glance.

‘I wouldn’t have anything against rolling around in that fishing cottage, that’s for sure,’ Thomas went on. ‘It’d be nice with a bit of pussy close by.’

‘Then go down there,’ Lasse said. ‘Can you watch the fire for a bit, I just realised I have a bit of stuff in the shed as well.’

He passed over the rake and disappeared like a phantom around the side of the house. Thomas leant against the handle. The flames were no longer as high. The smell was somewhat acrid and Thomas guessed Lasse had been burning a wide variety of items.

Lasse came back dragging a pair of rubbish sacks, and without a second thought, heaved them up on an old pallet that had almost burnt down. The plastic started to curl up almost immediately, the bags burst and revealed old rags and packaging materials. A rag burst into flames, perhaps soaked in a kind of paint thinner. A bottle that had contained oil rolled down, but Thomas sent it back into the fire with a welldirected kick.

Lasse left again and returned with another couple of bags that he threw onto the blaze, which had now received a new lease on life.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘A little less shit.’

‘I’ve been thinking about this deal with the Magpie,’ Thomas said.

‘I can take that,’ Lasse said, and held out his hand for the rake.

‘She may have a man in the background after all.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘She can’t sell a lot of paintings, can she? What does she live off of?’

Lasse masterfully raked together some bits of wood, plastic, and other things.

‘You think some guy is sponsoring her?’ he asked.

‘Sponsoring would be a fancy word for it,’ Thomas said, and chuckled.

‘I don’t care,’ Lasse said. ‘She doesn’t bother me any.’

He bent down and picked up a piece of cloth, looked at it for a moment, then tossed it into the fire.

‘Oh, come on now, admit that you-’

‘Cut it out! If you want to fuck her then drive down there and ask her. Okay?’

A bag started sliding to one side. Lasse caught it with the rake and shifted it back.

‘Well now. How is Christmas looking?’ Thomas changed the topic.

Lasse shook his head, but didn’t answer.

‘I’m going up to Fagervik myself.’

Lasse did not ask him what he was going to do there.

‘I called Doris to reassure her,’ Thomas said out of the blue.

‘That’s great,’ Lasse said, without enthusiasm.

‘Have you seen any more of that cop?’

‘No, have they been talking to you? I thought they had wrapped it up?’

‘That female one from Uppsala… I’m wondering if she and Marksson have something together. Why else would she be turning up all the time? Since we know that Frisk killed that girl. Did you ever meet her?’

‘No,’ Lasse said.

‘I wonder how Frisk got hold of her.’

They stopped speaking and stared into the blaze.

‘It was unsettling, that affair with the chainsaw. They took yours too, I noticed.’

‘They were here poking around,’ Lasse said. ‘Can you move over a little?’

Lasse resumed his raking. Suddenly the handle snapped in two.

‘Damn it!’

‘You’re too strong.’ Thomas smirked.

Lasse Malm tossed the rake aside and stood with his back turned to Thomas before he strode away out of sight.

Something in the bonfire started to spit and an orange flame spurted out. Thomas listened into the darkness by the corner of the house where Lasse had disappeared.

A couple of minutes went by. At first Thomas thought Lasse had gone to fetch another rake but he did not show himself.

The bonfire collapsed further and did not throw off as much heat as before. Thomas peered at the house. Had Lasse gone inside without saying anything?

Finally, after another minute or so, Thomas walked back to the car, turned on the engine, waited a while, then backed out onto the street and drove south.