pocket.
‘Tomorrow I’m driving up to Torsten and his aunt’s,’ he said, pinching his nostrils together. ‘We’ll see what we can come up with. But if you move her, then you’ve only got yourselves to blame. Just so you know.’
The water that flowed through the heating system in Susso’s flat kept it at a constant if only mildly warm temperature, although the radiator in the bathroom was usually freezing cold, and that was yet another reason why she put off having a shower. With a pair of thick socks on her feet she went into the kitchen and put on the coffee machine. When the coffee was ready she sat down in front of the computer and wondered how to formulate her words.
It was not exactly straightforward.
It would be best to wait until she saw the photographs from the wildlife camera. At least then she could account for the measures she had taken, if nothing else, and compare the results with what Edit had told her. That would have to be enough.
She had poured too much milk into her coffee, so she returned to the kitchen and put the cup in the microwave, which was a robust appliance, almost as old as she was. It resembled an old-fashioned television.
She took out her cup, sat down again at the computer, opened a new file and wrote:
Edit Mickelsson, living in Vaikijaur in the municipality of Jokkmokk, states that on Wednesday 16 November at approximately three in the afternoon she observed an unknown and abnormally short male person outside her house …
She then erased Edit’s name and took a mouthful of coffee, which was now far too hot. She drummed her thumb on the edge of the keyboard and glanced at the clock. It was almost ten forty. She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and put in her contact lenses, relieved at not having to write anything.
It had taken Seved just over an hour to drive to Arvidsjaur and now he sat in the car, waiting for two o’clock.
Using his index finger he pushed back the cuff of his jacket to look at the scratched face of his watch. It was now one fifty. There was a car park to the rear of the pizzeria but there was no sign of the motorhome or the Merc. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled white air through his nose. The temperature in the car had dropped fast. The seal on one of the Isuzu’s doors had fallen off, so it was always perishing inside. The clothes he had put on were not warm enough and he had not bothered with a hat or gloves.
He climbed out of the car, crossed the street and walked into the restaurant. Furthest in, where the chilled drinks cabinet hummed, an overweight man in a cap and knitted jumper sat staring into his coffee cup, but otherwise the tables were empty.
Seved sat down in a corner close to the exit. Lennart would only have to step through the door to catch sight of him.
There was a reflective sheet of glass over the tablecloth and on it stood salt and pepper mills and a bundle of toothpicks in a glass jar. He took one of the toothpicks to give his fingers something to do. When he had broken it into small pieces he took another and immediately began shredding it in the same way.
He didn’t know what Lennart wanted to talk to him about buthe had his suspicions. He was going to get a bollocking. A proper bollocking. Because if anyone was responsible for Ejvor’s death it was him, and now he was going to get it.
And what did he have to say in his defence?
That he couldn’t? That in his eyes Signe was a child? A sister?
Two years had passed since Signe had first been given her instructions, as Ejvor had put it. In a low voice and sort of in passing she had told him about it. Confused and embarrassed, he had quickly walked away.
What did that have to do with him?
The information had actually disgusted him.
Then he had understood.
Small hints. You and Signe. When we’re away and you and Signe …
They wanted them to have a child together. It had not been hard for him to work out that it was for the sake of the old-timers – he could remember how
‘Tomorrow I’m driving up to Torsten and his aunt’s,’ he said, pinching his nostrils together. ‘We’ll see what we can come up with. But if you move her, then you’ve only got yourselves to blame. Just so you know.’
The water that flowed through the heating system in Susso’s flat kept it at a constant if only mildly warm temperature, although the radiator in the bathroom was usually freezing cold, and that was yet another reason why she put off having a shower. With a pair of thick socks on her feet she went into the kitchen and put on the coffee machine. When the coffee was ready she sat down in front of the computer and wondered how to formulate her words.
It was not exactly straightforward.
It would be best to wait until she saw the photographs from the wildlife camera. At least then she could account for the measures she had taken, if nothing else, and compare the results with what Edit had told her. That would have to be enough.
She had poured too much milk into her coffee, so she returned to the kitchen and put the cup in the microwave, which was a robust appliance, almost as old as she was. It resembled an old-fashioned television.
She took out her cup, sat down again at the computer, opened a new file and wrote:
Edit Mickelsson, living in Vaikijaur in the municipality of Jokkmokk, states that on Wednesday 16 November at approximately three in the afternoon she observed an unknown and abnormally short male person outside her house …
She then erased Edit’s name and took a mouthful of coffee, which was now far too hot. She drummed her thumb on the edge of the keyboard and glanced at the clock. It was almost ten forty. She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and put in her contact lenses, relieved at not having to write anything.
It had taken Seved just over an hour to drive to Arvidsjaur and now he sat in the car, waiting for two o’clock.
Using his index finger he pushed back the cuff of his jacket to look at the scratched face of his watch. It was now one fifty. There was a car park to the rear of the pizzeria but there was no sign of the motorhome or the Merc. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled white air through his nose. The temperature in the car had dropped fast. The seal on one of the Isuzu’s doors had fallen off, so it was always perishing inside. The clothes he had put on were not warm enough and he had not bothered with a hat or gloves.
He climbed out of the car, crossed the street and walked into the restaurant. Furthest in, where the chilled drinks cabinet hummed, an overweight man in a cap and knitted jumper sat staring into his coffee cup, but otherwise the tables were empty.
Seved sat down in a corner close to the exit. Lennart would only have to step through the door to catch sight of him.
There was a reflective sheet of glass over the tablecloth and on it stood salt and pepper mills and a bundle of toothpicks in a glass jar. He took one of the toothpicks to give his fingers something to do. When he had broken it into small pieces he took another and immediately began shredding it in the same way.
He didn’t know what Lennart wanted to talk to him about buthe had his suspicions. He was going to get a bollocking. A proper bollocking. Because if anyone was responsible for Ejvor’s death it was him, and now he was going to get it.
And what did he have to say in his defence?
That he couldn’t? That in his eyes Signe was a child? A sister?
Two years had passed since Signe had first been given her instructions, as Ejvor had put it. In a low voice and sort of in passing she had told him about it. Confused and embarrassed, he had quickly walked away.
What did that have to do with him?
The information had actually disgusted him.
Then he had understood.
Small hints. You and Signe. When we’re away and you and Signe …
They wanted them to have a child together. It had not been hard for him to work out that it was for the sake of the old-timers – he could remember how
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