Bad Intentions

  They drove out to Åkerøy.

  Half an hour later they saw the fjord sparkle blue between the houses. Small islands dotted with red and white cottages lay beyond. Skarre spoke at length about his childhood. He had grown up in a vicarage on the south coast, and he could feel the pull of it now.

  ‘I want a flat out here,’ he said. ‘How much do you think they cost?’

  ‘Far too much for us,’ Sejer replied.

  Skarre stared dreamily across the mouth of the fjord.

  ‘I suppose it gets cold here in the autumn and winter,’ he added. ‘After all, it’s right on the coast. What do you think?’

  He looked to the inspector for support.

  ‘You can’t live out here,’ Sejer said. ‘It’s freezing cold.’

  Irene Selmer was wearing a T-shirt which came down to her thighs and read: PRINCESS ON A BINGE. She acted curt. She seemed to think they might be selling something, and she wanted shot of them.

  ‘Police,’ Sejer said.

  She gawped. Then she recalled what had happened. It had upset her.

  ‘Is it Jon Moreno?’

  Sejer did not have time to answer.

  ‘I heard he killed himself,’ she said. ‘Did he?’

  ‘We’re here on another matter,’ Sejer said.

  She tugged at her T-shirt. She showed no sign of inviting them in. Then another unpleasant thought occurred to her, something she had almost forgotten.

  ‘We’ve found Kim Van Chau,’ Sejer said.

  ‘Is he dead?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he freeze to death? Where was he?’

  ‘We found him in Glitter Lake,’ Skarre explained.

  She shook her head, baffled. ‘Glitter Lake? But he lives in Nattmål, in those terraced houses. Do you know what happened?’

  ‘No,’ Skarre said, looking at Sejer. ‘But we’ll do everything in our power to find out.’

  She turned around and went back inside the flat.

  ‘I shouldn’t have thrown him out,’ she said. ‘He was so drunk. It’s all my fault.’

  ‘Why is it your fault?’ Sejer asked.

  Without looking at them she began to explain. ‘If I had let him stay the night, he would have got home alive. But I didn’t want him here. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  ‘Let’s begin at the beginning,’ Sejer said. ‘We can apportion blame later.’

  They all sat down. Irene Selmer lifted the edge of her T-shirt and wiped her eyes, causing her black make-up to smudge.

  ‘I’ve given a statement,’ she said. ‘I’ve told you what happened several times already.’

  ‘And now you need to tell me again,’ Sejer said. ‘Tell us about the party.’

  ‘It was a house-warming party,’ she said. ‘My dad gave me this flat when I turned twenty. It was quite low-key. We sat on the floor because there weren’t enough chairs for everybody. I’d warned all the neighbours, these walls are so thin. But no one complained because everyone who lives out here is young, and they don’t mind. We ordered pizzas from Pizzabussen, they were delivered at ten.’

  ‘Did people get very drunk?’ Sejer asked.

  She tugged at her shoelaces.

  ‘People wanted to get drunk. Some had brought beer and wine, others vodka. Of course people got drunk, I had expected them to.’

  ‘How did you know Kim Van Chau?’ Skarre asked.

  ‘I didn’t know Kim. He wasn’t invited.’

  ‘So tell us how he ended up at your party.’

  ‘He was hitch-hiking,’ she said. ‘From Nattmål. He wanted to go into town. Two friends of mine drove past on their way here and spotted him. And they invited him to come along. They just did it for a laugh.’

  She jerked her head involuntarily. Perhaps she was ashamed or perhaps she had just had enough.

  ‘He sat down on the floor,’ she said, ‘and someone handed him a bottle of beer. And then another and another. He couldn’t hold his drink. We made him speak Vietnamese. It sounded so funny. Every time we started laughing, so did he. He did everything we asked him to.’

  ‘Did he tell you anything about himself?’

  She thought about it.

  ‘He lived with his mum in one of those terraced housed in Nattmål. And he went to Sanderud College. His dad is dead. That was all we knew.’

  She looked up at Sejer.

  ‘He had a bottle in his hand the whole time,’ she said, ‘and I told them they had to stop it because we didn’t even know if he was allowed to drink alcohol. And he still had to get home. Somehow or other.’

  ‘And that was how the evening went on? You sat on the floor drinking?’

  ‘As you can see, there’s not enough room to dance here,’ she said.

  ‘Go on,’ Sejer said. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘It was late,’ she said, ‘and I had to throw people out because no one wanted to leave. It was so cold outside. It’s impossible to have a conversation with drunk people,’ she sighed.

  Sejer looked at her gravely.

  ‘Was there anything else, apart from alcohol, being passed around that night?’

  ‘Not that I know of. And if I had suspected anything, then I would have made people stop. I can’t risk it. My dad would kill me.’

  ‘Do you like Axel Frimann?’ Skarre asked.

  She looked confused. ‘He’s always got loads of girls chasing after him.’

  ‘Strictly speaking that’s not a proper answer to my question,’ Skarre said.

  ‘Being Axel’s girl gives you status,’ she explained.

  ‘I understand he’s quite a guy,’ Skarre said.

  ‘I don’t care about status,’ she said.

  ‘You started throwing people out,’ Sejer said. ‘How did they get home?’

  ‘Most of them took a cab. They shared and split the fare. Some walked because they live locally, and a few had caught the last bus.’

  ‘And Kim Van Chau?’

  ‘He was the biggest problem. At that point he was really drunk. But it was three o’clock by then, and I didn’t want anyone sleeping on the floor when I woke up in the morning. He didn’t have any money either, so I told Axel and the others that they had to give him a lift back. They could drop him right where my friends had picked him up, right by the letterboxes at the bottom of the hill in Nattmål. From there it’s only a short walk to his front door. I thought about his mum, she was probably waiting up for him. Then we had a row.’

  ‘And what was the outcome?’ Sejer asked.

  ‘It ended up that Axel and Reilly dragged him through the door and bundled him into the Mercedes,’ she said. ‘But that was after I had argued with Axel for a long time. He is very stubborn.’

  ‘Had Axel been drinking?’

  ‘Don’t think so,’ she mumbled. She started twirling a ring on her finger and Sejer recalled Yoo Van Chau’s words. Watch their hands, see if they flap.

  ‘What about Reilly and Jon?’

  ‘Jon was completely out of it,’ Irene said, ‘because he couldn’t hold his drink either. And Reilly was looking pretty wasted, too.’

  ‘So we have the following scenario,’ Sejer said. ‘It’s three o’clock in the morning. Axel, Jon, Reilly and Kim leave by the front door to drive to Nattmål. Did you see them get into the car?’

  ‘I can only see the water,’ she said.

  ‘But as far as you were concerned, Axel was driving Kim to Nattmål?’

  ‘That was the deal,’ she said. ‘He promised. Jon and Reilly promised.’

  ‘So that was the last time you saw Kim Van Chau?’ Sejer asked. ‘When Axel and Reilly helped him through the door?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That was the last time I saw him.’

  CHAPTER 24

  Ingar and Ragni Lund had also been to Irene’s party in Skjæret. They were twins. Sejer was fascinated by their similarities, which manifested themselves not only in their features, but also in their gestures, even though they were not identic
al twins.

  ‘When we turned up, the party had already been going for a couple of hours,’ Ragni explained, ‘and Kim had been assigned the role of mascot.’

  ‘He was drunk. He laughed at everything we said. He looked like a happy little goblin with his black hair.’

  Sejer made a note and looked up at the twins again.

  ‘Did anyone leave the party and come back later?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Yes, someone did, didn’t they? Stian and Jon went off to buy mixers,’ Ingar said. ‘There’s a petrol station on the main road which is always open. Shell,’ he explained. ‘They were gone about half an hour.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did anyone go into the other rooms?’

  They both shook their heads.

  ‘Irene had locked the door to her bedroom,’ Ragni explained, ‘because she didn’t want anyone making out in there.’

  ‘Do you know if any of the guests already knew Kim?’

  ‘No one knew Kim,’ Ragni said. ‘Suddenly he appeared in the doorway, and Irene didn’t have the heart to tell him to go. It was so cold that night, it was almost minus twenty, and he wasn’t properly dressed. He was only wearing a thin jacket. He wouldn’t have survived.’ And then she remembered that he had not survived.

  ‘Were there any problems during the evening?’

  ‘Only minor rows,’ Ingar said.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Boys’ stuff. When did bass player X leave band Y, and who took over from him and when did he OD and so on. The kind of things that boys are into.’

  ‘No arguments relating to Kim?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No form of harassment or bullying?’

  The twins shook their heads. ‘We were messing about about, but it was nothing serious.’

  ‘Would you say that Jon Moreno was drunk?’ Sejer asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Ingar said. ‘He was drunk.’

  ‘And Philip Reilly?’

  ‘He was quite wasted, but he’s bigger, so he can handle more.’

  ‘What about Axel Frimann?’

  ‘I think he’d had a few beers earlier in the evening,’ Ragni said, ‘but he was driving so he was careful. He’s fanatical when it comes to that Mercedes. He would never take any chances with it.’

  ‘When did you leave the party?’

  ‘Round about one o’clock,’ Ingar said. ‘I think we were among the first to leave. We caught the last bus into town.’

  Sejer put down his pen.

  ‘Kim was found in Glitter Lake,’ he said. ‘Do you know of a place there where young people tend to meet? A beach, a viewpoint?’

  ‘There’s a beach we go to. We have a lot of parties there in the summer. You drive up along the west side,’ Ragni explained, ‘past the asylum seekers’ centre, and then you take a sharp right. It’s a tiny beach. We call it Copacabana.’

  CHAPTER 25

  Yoo Van Chau put on a knitted jacket and boots to go down to the letterboxes. At the bottom of the road she stopped and shivered while she pondered that this was the very spot where Kim had stood alone in the cold, hitch-hiking, and a car had pulled over. I imagine he must have been thrilled to be invited to a party, she thought. Finally someone had noticed him and included him. Everything he had always dreamed of had rolled up on four wheels. Two pretty girls and an invitation. Hey you, do you want to come with us? For a moment she was so stunned that she temporarily forgot why she had left the house. She opened her letterbox. Inside lay a thick pile of junk mail. For coffins. And headstones. There was also a catalogue from a florist. Even death is a business, she thought; they get you when you’re down. There are probably some greedy people behind all this glossy paper. Then she remembered that they too would die, the people who made the coffins and carved the stones. And those who tied the wreaths. Sons would die and daughters, mothers would die and fathers, every single one of them would have to make these choices. She felt limp. She clung to the letterbox for a moment and the catalogues slipped from her hands and on to the ground. She had to squat down to pick them up. She sat there clawing at the coffins and the flowers and the headstones. Some dirt had got on to the pages. She wiped it off with her sleeve.

  Then she returned to the terraced houses. She walked quickly because she did not want to talk to anyone or explain herself. She went back inside, closed the door behind her and left the catalogues on the table. I will look at them, she thought, but not right now. I need something to eat. I need a cup of tea. And then I need to rest because it’s a big decision. I need to be calm and rested, not flustered and distressed. She went into the kitchen and found a loaf in the bread bin, some butter and jam in the fridge. He came home, she thought, just as I had given up hope. I suppose I should be pleased about that because it’s much more than I had last winter. Then I had only words and suggestions from people I’d never met, and no one would take the blame for anything. What had they done apart from opening their door to him? She did not think that anyone had hurt him. Why would they? He was not aggressive. She leaned over the kitchen counter with her thoughts. She could not comprehend why she had lost him, why he had been found floating in Glitter Lake.

  She made a jam sandwich and a cup of tea and carried them into the living room. There she ate her modest meal, never once taking her eyes off the catalogues. I’ll go through them, she thought, but first I need to rest. I’m so tired. I’m exhausted. She pulled a blanket over herself and curled up on the sofa where she dozed. Music, she thought. Flowers. Kim in a box on the floor. They called it a coffin and it was decorated both inside and out, almost like a nest with lining and ruches, but it was still just a box. She placed a hand on her heart. It beat softly under her blouse as though nothing had happened, unaffected by the violent pain she felt in this precise muscle.

  She lay very still for an hour. She kept wanting to get up and do something, but she could not summon the energy. She listened to the sounds from outside, people coming and going in the street. Out there people were busy, as always, it was only her world which had been shattered. I could die now, she thought, and no one would find me. I could lie here for weeks until someone noticed a smell outside my front door. The thought of this made her leap up. I need to pull myself together, she thought, I have things to arrange for Kim, I can’t lie here doing nothing. She folded the blanket and took the first catalogue from the pile. Feeling nervous, she sat down and started going through it. She ticked the headstones she liked the best, but no matter what they looked like, they were terribly expensive. She had no idea they would cost so much. But then again someone had spent time chipping, carving and polishing. It was craftsmanship; of course it cost money.

  She put down the catalogue and picked up another. She realised she was looking for something she would never find. She wanted something simple; they were simple people. But she also wanted the stone to stand out from the others in the cemetery because there was only one Kim. She reclined and closed her eyes, but her whole body was tense. She leaned forward to get a new catalogue. There was only one coffin she liked. It was mahogany and way beyond her means. She kept staring at the picture. She liked the dark wood. She was upset that she could not afford it. Again she put the catalogue aside. Another thought had distracted her. She had to find some pall-bearers, some boys from his class, perhaps. She would have to talk to Kim’s teacher, he would probably organise it for her if she asked him nicely. They had never wanted to be with him when he was alive, but now they would have to do him a final favour whether they wanted to or not, she decided.

  Afterwards she probably ought to hold a small wake. But where? She didn’t have enough room here. She would have to organise some refreshments too, and she would have to take the young people into consideration; after all they don’t eat just anything, she thought. What will he wear, she wondered? This question unsettled her because it was important, and she had not given it a single thought. She did not want him in a white shroud. Kim would have hated that, but
nor did he own a dark suit. So she would have to buy one. She knew his size; he was her son. A dark suit and a snow white shirt. Stylish, elegant and dignified. Then a dreadful thought struck her. It had lain dormant inside her for a long time, but she had pushed it aside. Kim had been in the water for many months. It would quite simply be impossible to dress him.

  CHAPTER 26

  Reilly had been well prepared, but now all his preparations went out of the window.

  ‘You’ve found that Vietnamese guy,’ he said. ‘I suppose that’s why you’re here?’

  ‘Correct,’ Sejer said. ‘We’ve found him.’

  Reilly tried to arrange his gangly body, but it was not until he picked up the kitten that he settled down. He had anticipated a barrage of questions, but they just watched him in silence.

  ‘I expect you’ve read the statement I gave last winter, and now you want me to repeat that and it’s fine, I suppose, you have certain procedures and I understand that. The problem is that statement still stands. I presume that you’ve read it.’

  He had to draw breath. He picked nervously at his corduroy trousers. They were slightly too big for him and shone with wear across the knees.

  ‘No,’ Sejer said. ‘We haven’t read it.’

  This white lie baffled Reilly. ‘You haven’t?’

  ‘I don’t like to be prejudiced,’ Sejer said. ‘I prefer to draw my own conclusions. And Skarre wants to make his own notes.’

  Reilly was not entirely sure if he was being serious. He started pacing up and down with the kitten in his arms. It dug its claws into his jumper, terrified of falling from a great height. What do they want from me? he thought, as he wandered around. How do you act if you’ve got nothing to hide? You sit down, look them in the eye. You smile a friendly and open smile. But he could not manage a smile, and he did have something to hide.

  ‘How did he die?’ he asked.

  The two police officers were sitting down on the sofa. He noticed that Skarre had started making notes.