Sail of Stone

“I’ll drive you,” said Aneta.

In the car, she thought of Anette.

Had he already beaten her then? The man sitting next to her in the photograph, with his big smile?

Was she still hoping?

I’ll have to ask her. If I ever meet her.

The Winter-Hoffman family was on the way home over one of the bridges when Winter’s phone rang.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Erik, Mollerstrom here.”

“Yes?”

Winter heard Mollerstrom give a cough. Janne Mollerstrom was a detective and the department records clerk. Everything went through Mollerstrom just like it went through Winter. But Mollerstrom kept everything in his advanced data files. Winter had his thoughts, his theories and hypotheses, in his PowerBook. Mollerstrom had several computers. And telephones.

“A woman has tried to reach you a few times. Sounded a little desperate.”

“What’s her name?”

“Osvald. Johanna Osvald.”

“Did she leave a phone number?”

Mollerstrom recited the number. Winter recognized it. She had given it to him.

“What else did she say?”

“Just that you should call when you can.”

“Tonight?”

He watched Angela and Elsa, who were five yards ahead of him. Elsa’s hand stuck out from the stroller. Angela was walking briskly.

He quickly dialed the number he’d gotten from Janne. He released his breath when he heard the busy signal. The phone rang as soon as he hung up. He recognized the number on the screen.

“She called here again,” said Mollerstrom. “Just now.”

“It’s after working hours,” said Winter.

“That’s something new to be coming from you,” said Mollerstrom.

“What is it that’s so urgent?” said Winter.

“She just said that she wanted to talk to you.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I assume the best way to find out is to call.”

“Thanks for the advice, Janne, and have a good rest of the night at the department.”

“Thank you,” Mollerstrom snickered, and hung up.

Angela was waiting at a red light at Allen.

“The mobile office,” she said.

“Well…”

“There is an off button.”

He didn’t answer. He thought she was being unfair. She didn’t know that he was trying to avoid a conversation. There was still a first time for everything.

“For everyone but you,” she said.

“What?”

“A button for everyone but you.”

“Please, Angela…”

Red turned to green. They walked across the street. He saw that Elsa’s head was hanging. He would have had trouble staying awake himself if he was being pushed around in a stroller just after twilight.

“They can send a car for you if it’s really important, can’t they?”

“As long as I haven’t left town,” he said.

“Left town! Surely you don’t have permission to leave town!”

“By written request three months ahead of time.”

“In which case you can be wanted if you’re away from the house,” she said.

“Like now,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

He looked at his watch.

“Officially, I’m still on duty,” he said.

“Did that also apply to the hour at the new bar?”

“It’s my new office.”

His phone rang again.

“You have to answer,” said Angela. “You’re still on duty.”

It was Mollerstrom again.

“For God’s sake, Janne!”

“Sorry, sorry, boss, but she called again and said it’s about her father.”

“I know that it’s about her father.”

He hung up and looked at Angela. They were standing outside their own door.

“I really did try,” he said.

“What is it about?” she said, and opened the door with one hand. Winter was steering the stroller. Elsa was sleeping and snoring quietly. The polyps. She would have to have an operation later, Angela had said. Are you serious? he had said. Unfortunately, she said. It happened to me too, she had said.

“Johanna Osvald’s father,” he said now. “She’s tried to reach me several times; apparently she’s shaken up.”

“Well, call her, darn it,” said Angela, and her face was open, and there was no sarcasm in her voice.

He called from the hall. Angela was fixing supper for Elsa, who had woken up in the elevator. It was impossible to sleep in that elevator. It was antique and dragged itself up with tortured protests, loud sighs.

He heard the rings, two, three, four, five, six. He called again. He didn’t get an answer.

In the kitchen, Angela was making a porridge out of yesterday’s rice pudding.

“No answer,” he said.

“Well, that’s strange.”

“Very strange,” Elsa said, and giggled.

He smiled.

“Do you want porridge, Papa?”

“Not right now, sweetie.”

“Soon it will be gone,” she said.

“You’ll just have to try again,” said Angela, scooping porridge into Elsa’s deep dish.

He went into the living room and called from there. Three-four-five-six. He hung up and turned on the CD player, which continued where it had left off late last night, with Miles Davis’s and Freddie Hubbard’s trumpets in “The Court.” The court of law. Or a courtyard, if you looked at it that way. Miles’s solo, which was like a sharp shadow from a sharp sun. Of course. A long shadow across a courtyard.

He kept time with his foot, not something for a beginner. He had tried to show Angela once quite a while ago, teach her, but she had given up, laughing. Give me rock ’n’ roll! she had cried. Okay, he had said. Something simple and easy to digest for mademoiselle. You don’t even know what it is! she had said. Yes I do, he had answered. Say something, then! she had said. Say what? he had said. Say a band! A rock band! He had thought and answered.

Elvis Presley.

She had laughed again, a lot. You are truly up to date, she had hiccuped.

He smiled at the memory. But he was up to date. Tonight he would listen to Pharoah Sanders, Save Our Children. Good God, he had just bought The Complete “In a Silent Way” Sessions.

He tried to call again an hour later. It would have to be the last time. Angela was in the bath, but that wasn’t why; it wasn’t why he was taking the opportunity right then. He didn’t get an answer this time either.