“What happened next?”
Berger shrugged.
“Our relationship hit the rocks, of course. She became a stranger, you might say. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and asking myself questions. Asking her as well, but she refused to discuss it. As soon as I tried to start talking about something, she shut up like a clam. It was sheer hell for a few months. And it got worse. I’d never expected anything of the sort. We’d been married for five years, had known each other for ten, and we’d never had any problems like that before. Are you married, Chief Inspector?”
“Sort of.”
“Hmm. . Ah, well. . Before long I suppose I started to think that maybe I’d got hold of the wrong end of the stick after all. It started to feel as if everything was beginning to move in her favor, somehow or other. . As if I was to blame for everything, because it was me who’d accused her. I recall thinking that the whole business was beginning to look like a real
“Don’t underestimate me.”
“I’m sorry. .”
“You said you caught her out several more times?”
“Yes, but never in quite the same way. I caught a glimpse. .
I overheard a few telephone calls. .”
“Did you hear what they were talking about?”
“No. But it was pretty clear even so.”
“I’m with you.”
“I caught her out telling lies several times as well. She claimed she’d been at home, despite the fact that I’d gone home during the lunch break and found the house empty. .
Said she’d been at the cinema with a woman friend of hers. To see a film that had finished its run the week before.”
“What did she have to say about all these things?”
“I never confronted her with them. I didn’t know what to do. I suppose I was just waiting for something crucial to happen. The whole situation seemed so unreal, I simply didn’t know what to do.”
“Did you speak to anybody about it?”
“No. . No, unfortunately not. I thought it was something that would blow over, that we’d sort it out between ourselves eventually, somehow.”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“Is that a Vrejsman?” He pointed at the big watercolor over the fireplace.
“Yes, you’re right,” said Berger in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re an art expert as well as a detective chief inspector?”
“Of course,” said Van Veeteren. “I’m familiar with Rem-brandt and Vrejsman. Vrejsman is my uncle. Are you absolutely certain, Mr. Berger?”
“Excuse me? I don’t really understand. .”
“Certain that she was unfaithful. Could it possibly have been something else?”
“Such as?”
Van Veeteren flung out his arms.
“Don’t ask me. But what you discovered wasn’t especially compromising. You never found them in bed together, as it were.”
“I didn’t think that was necessary.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about this last time? When you spoke to Inspector Munster?”
Berger hesitated.
“It. . it never cropped up. I suppose I didn’t think it was important. I still don’t, come to that.”
Van Veeteren didn’t respond. Berger was rather annoyed now. Van Veeteren almost wished he’d been in a position to have him locked up in a police cell overnight and been able to continue questioning him first thing next morning. That would have made his next move easier. But while he was wondering what to do next, Mrs. Berger appeared and informed her husband that he was wanted on the telephone.
The Devil looks after his own, Van Veeteren thought.
Berger went to answer the call, and Van Veeteren was able to spend the next ten minutes staring at the embers and the fading blue flames while thinking over his own infidelities.
They were two in number; the most recent one was eighteen years ago, and had been just as catastrophic as the first one. His marriage had been catastrophic as well, but at least it had the advantage of not affecting any innocent party.
Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to let the same thing apply to the marriage of Andreas Berger and Eva Ringmar as well? He decided to accept another whiskey and water while waiting for the next round to commence. He would have to make sure it took up rather less time than the last one. The clock on the mantelpiece was showing half past nine, and even if he generally paid no attention to the requirements of common decency and decorum, there were limits.
He lit a cigarette, and put another four in his breast pocket.
28
“Could you please tell me a bit about the accident, Mr. Berger?
I promise I shan’t trouble you for much longer.”
Berger poked around in the glowing embers. Remained sitting for a while with his arms between his knees, staring into the fire, before he started.
“It was the first of June. A Saturday. We were invited to the Molnars, a colleague of mine: they have a house in the Maarensjoarna lake district. We were going to stay overnight.
When it was time to eat, we realized that Willie had disappeared. He was four, had just celebrated his fourth birthday.
The Molnars had two children, a few years older. They’d all been playing in the garden. Willie had said he needed to go to the lavatory. We didn’t find him until Sunday morning. Some fishermen pulled his body out of an inlet-he’d floated with the current for nearly three kilometers.”
He fell silent and lit a cigarette.
“How far was it from the house to the lake?”
“Only a hundred meters. We’d been swimming earlier, but Willie knew he wasn’t allowed to go there on his own.”
“Was there a thorough investigation?”
“Yes, but there wasn’t much to say. Willie had presumably wandered onto the jetty and fallen in the water. He had all his clothes on, so he hadn’t gone swimming on his own. Chief Inspector, do we really have to go through all this? I told the full story to your colleague. . Munster, was that his name?”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“What about Eva’s reaction, could you talk about that? I understand that it’s difficult for you, but I’m looking for a murderer, Mr. Berger. Somebody killed Eva, somebody killed Janek Mitter, her new husband. There must be a reason why.
I’m afraid it’s necessary to follow up every clue.”
“I understand. I hope you can understand the trauma caused by the death of a child. We can accept that adults die, even if it happens suddenly and unexpectedly; but when a little boy, only four years old, is snatched away from you. . Well, it can seem as if everything-and I really do mean everything-is meaningless. Any reaction at all has to be regarded as normal.”
“Eva was the one who reacted worst?”
Berger nodded.
“Yes.”
There was a pause. Berger poured himself a small whiskey.
