Harry shook his head. ‘Disease, as in physical ailment, Skai. I meant they both had arthritis. The family relationship was confirmed this morning. The DNA analysis of the flesh on the wood burner and Tony Leike’s hair prove they are father and son.’
Skai nodded.
‘Well,’ Harry said. ‘I came by to thank you for your help and to bemoan the outcome. Bjorn Holm sends his regards to your wife and says she makes the best meatballs and mashed swede he’s ever tasted.’
Flicker of a smile from Skai. ‘Most people think that. Even Tony liked them.’
‘Oh?’
Skai shrugged and pulled a knife from the sheath on his belt.
‘I told you Mia was stuck on the boy, didn’t I? It was soon after he had knifed Ole. She brought him home for lunch one day when she knew I wouldn’t be there. The wife said nothing when they showed up, though there was a humdinger when I got to hear about it, of course. But you know what girls are like at that age and in love. I tried to explain that Tony was violent, fool that I was. I should have known the worse I made her boyfriend out to be, the more determined she would become to hang on to him. Then it’s two together against the rest of the world, kind of. Well, you’ve seen it yourself with women who start writing letters to convicted murderers.’
Harry nodded.
‘Mia would have left home, followed him to the end of the world, there was no moderation in anything,’ Skai said, cutting the fishing line and reeling in.
Harry followed the retreat of the slack line. ‘Mm. End of the world.’
‘Yep.’
‘I see.’
Skai stopped winding and looked at Harry. ‘No,’ he said with conviction.
‘No what?’
‘No to what you’re thinking.’
‘Which is?’
‘That Mia and Tony met again later. He broke up with her; since then they have never met. Her life has continued without him. She has nothing to do with this case, got it? You have my word. She is putting her life together again, so please don’t…’
Harry nodded and took the cigarette, which had been extinguished by the rain, from his mouth.
‘I’m not on the case any more,’ he said. ‘But your word would have been good enough, anyway.’
As Harry drove from the car park he looked in the mirror and watched Skai packing up his fishing gear.
Rikshospital. He was in the rhythm now. Time was not chopped up by events; it flowed in an even stream. He had thought of asking for a mattress. That would be a bit like Chungking Mansion.
81
The Cones of Light
Three days passed. He was alive. Everyone was alive.
No one knew where Tony Leike was, the trail of the fake Odd Utmo ended in Copenhagen. A photograph of Lene Galtung with a shawl over her head and large sunglasses in the best Greta Garbo style was splashed across one newspaper. The headline was: NO COMMENT. And now no one had seen her for two days after she had gone into hiding, apparently at her father’s house in London. The photograph of Tony in work clothes in front of the helicopter had been in several newspapers. It was captioned PRINCE CHARMING’S VANISHING ACT in one. He had been dubbed Prince Charming now, people had taken to it, and anyway, it suited Leike better than Altman. Strangely enough, no one in the press had managed to link Tony Leike with the Utmo farm yet. The mother and later Tony had obviously covered their tracks well.
Mikael Bellman had daily press conferences. In a TV talk show he demonstrated his pedagogic skills and flashed his winsome smile explaining how the case had been cracked. His version of the story, that went without saying. And made it seem like an oversight that the killer had not been arrested; the important thing first off was that Tony ‘Prince Charming’ Leike had been unmasked, rendered ineffective, sidelined.
The dark descended a few minutes later every evening. Everyone was waiting for spring or frost, one of the two, but neither came.
The cones of light swept across the ceiling.
Harry lay on his side, staring at the smoke from his cigarette curling up towards the ceiling in intricate and ever-unpredictable patterns.
‘You’re so quiet,’ Kaja said, snuggling up to his back.
‘I’ll be here until the funeral,’ he said. ‘Then I’m off.’
He took another drag. She didn’t answer. Then, to his surprise, he felt something warm and wet on his shoulder blade. He put the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and turned to her. ‘Are you crying?’
‘Trying not to,’ she laughed with a sniffle. ‘I don’t know what’s got into me.’
‘Do you want a cigarette?’
She shook her head and dried the tears. ‘Mikael rang today, wanting to meet.’
‘Mm.’
She laid her head against his chest. ‘Don’t you want to know what I answered?’
‘Only if you want to tell me.’
‘I said no. Then he said I would regret that. He said you would drag me down. That it wasn’t the first time you had done that to someone.’
‘Well, he’s right.’
She lifted her head. ‘But that doesn’t matter, don’t you understand? I want to be wherever you are.’ Tears began to roll again. ‘And if it’s down, I want to be there, too.’
‘But there’ll be nothing,’ Harry said. ‘Not even me. I’ll have gone. You saw me in Chungking. It would be like right after the avalanche. The same cabin, but alone and abandoned.’
‘But you found me and got me out. I can do the same for you.’
‘What about if I don’t want to get out? You haven’t got any more dying fathers to entice me with.’
‘But you love me, Harry. I know you love me. That’s a good enough reason, isn’t it? I’m a good enough reason.’
Harry caressed her hair, her cheeks, caught her tears with his fingers, carried them to his mouth and kissed them.
‘Yes,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘You are reason enough.’
She took his hand, kissed it where he had kissed it.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t say it. Don’t say that’s why you’re going. So that you don’t drag me down. I’ll follow you to the end of the world, you see?’
He pulled her into him. And at once felt something slacken, like a muscle that had been held in quivering tension for a long time without his realising. He let go, gave up, let himself fall. And the pain that had been there melted away, became something warm following the bloodstream around his body, softening it, giving it peace. The feeling of free fall was so liberating that he felt his throat thicken. And knew part of him had wanted it, this, also up there in the snowy mist above the scree.
‘To the end of the world,’ she whispered, already breathing faster.
The cones of light swept across the ceiling, again and again.
82
Red
