smell different. I, who am so careful about things like that. I always use soap and deodorant. Wash my hair frequently. And the floors. The windows are shiny. All the door handles are polished and clean. But I myself have become a piece of spoiled meat. I didn't want that to happen.
C H A P T E R 5
'Matteus?'
He heard the voice the instant the door slammed. He promptly reached for the bag of sweets in his pocket. Wanted her to notice it and clap her hands.
'Yes,' he said in a low voice, rustling the bag. His mother came in from the living room. She pressed his cheek to her breast.
'Did you meet someone on the way home?'
'No, but my jacket was under all the others,' he blurted out.
'Grandpa is here.'
Matteus rushed into his grandpa's open arms. And then he flew up in the air, flew like the wind, almost up to the ceiling.
'Watch out for your back,' Ingrid said to her father.
And then she smiled. After so many years alone, he had at last pulled himself together and grown from 96 centimetres to two metres tall, or so it seemed. Because of a woman.
'You're 17 minutes late,' said Sejer, looking at his grandson.
'My jacket was underneath all the others,' Matteus repeated.
'I see,' said Sejer, smiling. 'With all the buttonholes tangled up in each other?' A network of delicate lines appeared on his face as his smile grew. Nothing gave him as much joy as this child with the chocolate-coloured skin. He felt overwhelmed, tender, almost weak in the knees. It was unsettling, considering what life was like and everything that could happen. And that was something about which he knew a great deal. The boy slipped under his arm and grabbed his hands from behind.
'Teach me the police hold!' he begged eagerly.
'I'll give you a police hold,' Sejer said, laughing, as he spun the boy around, bundled him up, and carried him to the sofa. 'Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?' Matteus squealed with glee. Ingrid stood leaning against the doorframe, watching them. Sejer looked up. Her back curved in a certain way that reminded him of her mother.
'You forgot about the time because you were having so much fun!' he guessed, looking into the boy's brown eyes. 'You forgot your promise to your mother.'
'No,' shouted Matteus, wriggling on to his stomach.
'You met a stray dog on the street. You sat on the curb to stroke him, while you tried to work out how to get your mother to let you keep him. A scruffy-looking mutt. Am I right?'
'No, no!' he shouted again. He grabbed a pillow and put it over his head.
'You met a gang of bullies, and they wouldn't let you pass.'
Silence. Ingrid looked at her father in surprise, and then at her son, who had curled himself up into a ball of corduroy and denim.
'They were sitting in a car.'
'Who?'
Ingrid was at his side in an instant.
'Relax,' said Sejer swiftly. 'He's here, isn't he?'
'What did they do? Tell me!'
'Nothing.'
He was talking into the upholstery.
'Don't play games with me!'
'I don't like my name! Matteus is a stupid name!' he shouted, throwing the pillow to the floor. He wasn't crying. He almost never cried. He had soon realised that he was different, that people expected other things from him. That it was best if he moved quietly and didn't make too much noise. With his kind of colouring it was almost too much for them.
'I want to know what they did,' said his mother again.
'Ingrid,' said her father, 'if he doesn't want to tell you, he should be allowed to keep it to himself.' Matteus cleared his throat. 'They asked me how to get to the bowling alley. But they knew where it was. Afterwards they came back. They didn't do anything.'
He took out the bag of sweets that he had been clutching in his hand, lifted it up to his nose and sniffed at it. It contained sour balls, jelly worms, and marshmallows.
'I'm sorry,' said his mother softly. 'I was just so worried.'
Chief Inspector Konrad Sejer picked up his grandson and sat him on his lap. He buried his face in the boy's curly hair and thought about the years yet to come. Tried his utmost to decipher the shadowy images that lay ahead, far in the future.
'They said I had a cool jacket,' said Matteus, grinning.
'What's inside is even cooler,' Sejer said. 'Walk me to the door. I have to go home.'
'No, you don't. I know Kollberg isn't alone.'
'I have to go home to Sara.'
'Is she going to move in with you? Where am I going to sleep when I come to stay?'
'She's not going to live with me. She lives with her father, because he's sick. But she comes to see me, and sometimes she stays overnight. If she's there when you come over, you can sleep on the floor. All by yourself. On a foam mattress.' Matteus blinked his eyes in dismay. He stood there holding his grandfather's hand, tugging at it. Ingrid had to turn away to giggle.
'She's not fat, is she? So that there wouldn't be room for all of us?'
'No,' Sejer said, 'she's not fat.' He patted his daughter rather awkwardly on the arm and went out into the courtyard. Waved to Matteus in the open doorway. He drove slowly towards his apartment building. Later he would remember that, in those few minutes it took him to drive home from his daughter's house, life had seemed so orderly, so predictable and safe. Lonely, perhaps, but he had his dog. A Leonberger that weighed 70 kilos and was lacking in any manners. He was actually ashamed about that. Sara had a dog too. A well-behaved Alsatian. Sejer didn't like surprises. He was used to being always in control. He had almost everything. A good reputation. Respect. And, after many years as a widower, he had Sara. Life was no longer predictable. She was waiting for him now. They had invited Jacob Skarre to dinner. He was a younger officer whom Sejer liked and in an odd way counted as a friend, even though he was old enough to be Skarre's father. But he liked that. Enjoyed being with someone who was still young. And, he had to admit, it was good to have someone who listened, who still had a lot to learn. He had never had a son. Perhaps that was where his fondness for Skarre stemmed from.
He braked gently for a red light. Sara is standing in the kitchen. She's dressed up, but not too much. Probably put on a dress, he thought. She has brushed her long, blonde hair. She's not stressed. Her movements are measured and gentle, like the way I drive my car through town. The nape of her neck. A shiver ran down his spine. Those short, blonde hairs against her smooth skin. Her wide shoulders. She looks at her watch because she's expecting me home, and Jacob could turn up at any moment. The food is ready, but if it's not, that doesn't make her nervous. She's not like other people. She's in control. She's mine. He started humming a tune by Dani Klein – 'Don't Break My Heart' – and then he glanced in the rear-view mirror. For a moment he was shocked at how grey his hair was. Sara was so blonde and slender. Oh well. I'm a grown man, thought Konrad Sejer as he pulled in to the garage. He took the stairs, even though he lived on the 13th floor. He was trying to stay in shape, and maybe he'd have time for a shower. He ran up the stairs without getting out of breath. As he pushed down the door handle, he heard his dog making a racket and coming rushing out to greet him. He opened the door a crack and whistled. Once Sejer was inside, the dog stood on his hind legs and pressed him against the wall. Afterwards he was wet all over. Now he definitely needed a shower. The dog sauntered into the living room. Sara called hello.
That's when he noticed the smell. He stood still for a moment, breathing it in. There were several different smells: nutmeg from the kitchen, and melted cheese. Fresh-baked bread from the oven. He could also still smell the dog, who had nearly devoured him. But the other smell! The unfamiliar smell coming from the living room. He took a
