The Quiet Mother

16

When Marta spoke to the cuckolded sister, an old saying went through her head, distorted, of course, because she could never clearly remember such things: Hell has no fury like a woman who’s been betrayed. The woman’s fury was actually directed not so much at her unfaithful husband but at her sister, whom she couldn’t stop bashing and calling a slut and a whore in between sniffling through her doll-like, reddish nose.

Her name was Glóey, and according to her, she’d had no idea about the unfaithfulness until detectives from CID showed up and informed her that the police needed to speak to her husband. She said she hadn’t heard from him for a few days and they asked if she knew where he was. She wasn’t very cooperative, in fact telling them to get the hell out, but they told her the man had probably been at her sister’s place at the same stairwell and at the same time that a serious crime had been committed. They asked if she knew what he was doing there and about his movements that evening.

These last questions caught Glóey’s attention. She was flabbergasted, and they had to repeat all of it until she realised exactly what they were saying and what they were after.

‘The fucking bastard,’ she hissed before lighting a cigarette. Her face was carefully made up, with eyeshadow and blush. ‘I knew it. Damn it, I knew it! She could never leave him alone! And there I was, in the hospital. Damn it, it figures. Bloody hell! It figures.’

The police had obtained a search warrant because her husband had a history as a drug trafficker and dealer, which raised suspicions. Knives and blunt objects such as a baseball bat were found in the flat, along with some packs of pills and white powder that the woman claimed to have no idea about.

‘Did he kill that old woman?!’ she shouted angrily at Marta when she came to see her later that day. The search for the husband hadn’t yet been successful. ‘I’m sure my sister got him to do it. Damn it, I’ll... damn it, I’ll kill her the next time I see her! How long has this been going on between them? Fucking cheating bitch!’

Marta did her best to try to calm the woman down and let her know in a soothing tone that the police were only looking at one aspect of the case involving her sister and husband, and that it was important that they speak to him as soon as possible in order to put to rest a few doubts. She asked if Glóey agreed. Whether it wouldn’t be in everyone’s best interest. That the sooner this was resolved, the better it would be for all parties. This was a cliché, and Marta didn’t try to sound convincing.

Whether it was thanks to Marta’s vapidity or something else, the woman calmed down. She sat down on a chair’s armrest, sighed heavily, and hung her head. She’d been discharged from the hospital the day before and still bore the marks of the car accident, with a bandage on her head and one arm in a cast. It turned out it wasn’t the first time her husband had been unfaithful; but it was the first time her sister was involved. He was an incorrigible ladies’ man and she should rightly have left him long ago.

‘And that’s what I’m going to do,’ said Glóey. ‘I give up. I can’t take it any more. I can’t do this. I just can’t.’

‘No, it’s—’

‘Fucking bitch.’ She sighed again, scratching her cast.

‘Did you ever hear your sister talk about her upstairs neighbour?’ Marta asked.

‘Not that I remember. She’s been there for a year or so and I don’t think she’s got to know anyone properly. Was it there that they met? At her place?’

‘So it appears,’ Marta said.

‘He was with me in the car,’ said Glóey. ‘When I was hit. I ended up in the hospital. Look at me! Look what happened to me! He escaped completely unharmed. Not a scratch on him. You know... some, you know...’

‘Yes, tell me, is he in any trouble? Financially, I mean?’ Marta asked. ‘Or the two of you?’

Glóey stopped scratching her cast.

‘What? Did she have money, that old lady?’

‘Would that be a reason for him to attack her?’

‘The fucking idiot. He owes everyone. Everyone!’

A little later, Marta sat down with the woman from the first floor in an interrogation room at the police station on Hverfisgata. The sisters were quite different: Glóey fair-haired, excitable and rather burned out, while this one, whose name was Begga, was dark-haired and quieter and lacking the expressiveness of her sister’s face. She’d been picked up by the police at her workplace and went with them down to the station without saying a single word. When she was asked about her brother-in-law, she said she had no idea where he was.

Now, sitting there facing Marta, she asked how long they intended to keep her and if it had really been necessary to come and get her at work, in front of everyone, especially given that she’d done nothing wrong.

‘Your sister thinks otherwise,’ said Marta. ‘She doesn’t have much good to say about you.’

‘She’s one to talk. She’s no angel, either.’

‘For your brother-in-law to attack a defenceless woman wouldn’t surprise her at all, and she told us that he has chronic financial difficulties. Did your brother-in-law attack Valborg?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Did you go along with it?’

‘He didn’t do anything to her. I didn’t do anything to her.’

‘Did you know Valborg well?’

‘No, not really. But I knew she was a lovely woman. I would never in my life have been able to attack her.’

‘Did you ever discuss money matters with her?’

‘No. Never. What money matters?’

Konrád had told Marta that when he met Valborg, she’d stated specifically that she’d put money aside. When her bank accounts were examined, it came to light that she had no significant balances to speak of, maybe one million krónur in total, but she’d regularly withdrawn from her savings account, even tens of thousands each time. She had no stocks or government bonds or anything of that nature. When her niece was asked about the matter, she said that Valborg hadn’t trusted banks or financial corporations following the economic crash. On the other hand, her niece knew of no special assets of hers or how Valborg would have disposed of any such thing. Yet she mentioned that through the years, she had generously supported various causes touching on child labour and children’s diseases, and did so anonymously. It was possible that she’d simply given them the money that she thought she didn’t need, which explained the withdrawals from her savings account.

‘Is he in financial trouble?’ asked Marta in the interrogation room. ‘Your brother-in-law? Your lover?’

‘Lov— He’s going to leave Glóey,’ said the woman. ‘He’s been meaning to do so for a long time. Their marriage is completely dead. That’s why he comes to me.’

‘Why don’t you tell us where your brother-in-law is, and then we can ask him all about this in person?’ Marta said wearily.

‘I don’t know where he is.’

‘Did he go from your place up to Valborg’s and break into it?’

‘No.’

‘Did he send someone on his behalf, or you, to Valborg’s to rob her?’

‘Do you think he’d be crazy enough to be in the building at the same time? We didn’t do anything to her. He didn’t send anyone to do anything to her.’

‘Have you heard from him since then?’

‘No. And I don’t know where he is. He hasn’t been in contact with me.’