Don't Look Back

before.'

'Could you hear any words? Anything they said to each other?'

'What are you driving at with all these questions?' she blurted out. Her eyes had darkened. 'You should talk to Henning about it. I wasn't there. I was upstairs.'

'Do you think he has anything to tell me?'

Silence. She folded her arms, as if to lock him out. Her fear was growing.

'I can't speak for Henning. He's not my husband any more.'

'Was it the loss of your child that made your marriage difficult?'

'Not really. We would have split up anyway. We argued too much.'

'Were you the one who wanted to leave?'

'What does this have to do with anything?' she said.

'Most likely nothing. I'm just asking.' He placed his hands on the table, turning them palm up. 'When Henning found Eskil at the table, what did he do? Did he call out to you?'

'He just opened the door to the bedroom and stood there staring. It struck me how quiet it was, there wasn't a sound from the kitchen. I sat up in bed and screamed.'

'Is there anything about your son's death that seems unclear to you?'

'What?'

'Have you and your husband gone over what happened? Did you ask him about it?'

Again Sejer saw a trace of fear in her eyes.

'He told me everything,' she said carefully. 'He was inconsolable. Blamed himself for what happened, thought he hadn't paid enough attention. And that's not an easy thing to live with. He couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear it. We had to go our separate ways.'

'But there's nothing about the death itself that you didn't understand, or that hasn't been resolved?'

Sejer had big, slate-grey eyes that at the moment were very gentle because she was on the edge of something, and maybe, if he was lucky, she would take the next step.

Her shoulders began to shake. He sat still for a moment, waiting patiently, knowing that he mustn't move, mustn't break the silence. She was getting close to a confession. He recognised it; it was in the air. Something was bothering her, something she didn't dare think about.

'I heard them screaming at each other,' she whispered. 'Henning was furious; he had a fierce temper. I was lying in bed with a pillow over my head. I couldn't stand listening to them.' Go on.

'I heard Eskil making a lot of noise, he might have been banging his cup against the table, and Henning was shouting and slamming drawers and cupboard doors.

'Could you make out any words they said?'

Her lower lip began trembling. 'Only one sentence. The last thing I heard before he rushed off to the bathroom. He screamed so loud that I was afraid the neighbours would hear him, afraid of what they might think of us. But we didn't have it easy. We had a child who didn't behave the way we had expected. We had an older boy, as you know. Magne was always so quiet; he still is. There were never any problems, he did what we told him to do, he…'

'What did you hear? What did he say?'

The bell suddenly rang in the shop, and the door opened. Two women swept in and looked around at all the wool, their eyes alight. Mrs Johnas jumped up, about to head into the shop. Sejer stopped her by putting his hand on her shoulder.

'Tell me!'

She bowed her head, as if she were ashamed.

'It just about destroyed Henning. He could never forgive himself. And I couldn't live with him any more.'

'Tell me what he said!'

'I don't want anyone to know. And it doesn't matter any more. Eskil is dead.'

'But he's no longer your husband, is he?'

'He's Magne's father. He told me how he stood there in the bathroom, shaking with despair because he couldn't act the way he should. He stood there until he calmed down; then he was going to go back and apologise for being angry. He couldn't bear to go to work without clearing the air. Finally he went back to the kitchen. You know the rest.'

'Tell me what he said.'

'Never. I'll never tell a living soul.'

*

The ugly thought that had taken root in his mind was beginning to sprout and grow. He had seen so much that it was rare for him to be surprised. Maybe it would have been convenient to be rid of a child like Eskil Johnas.

He collected Skarre from his office and took him down the corridor.

'Let's go and look at some Oriental carpets,' he said.

'Why?'

'I just came from Astrid Johnas's shop. I think she's tormented by some terrible suspicion, the same one that has occurred to me. That Johnas is partially to blame for the boy's death. I think that's why she left him.'

'But how was he to blame?'

'I don't know. But she's terrified by the idea. Something else has occurred to me. Johnas didn't say a single word about the boy's death when we talked to him.'

'That's not so strange, is it? We were there to talk about Annie, after all.'

'I think it's strange that he didn't mention it. He said there weren't any children to baby-sit any more because his wife had left him. He didn't mention that the boy Annie took care of had died. Not even when you commented on the picture of him that was hanging on the wall.'

'He probably couldn't stand to talk about it. You have to forgive me for mentioning this,' Skarre said, lowering his voice, 'but you've also lost someone close to you. How easy is it for you to talk about it?'

Sejer was so surprised that he stopped in his tracks. He felt his face grow pale, as if someone had drained it of colour. 'Of course I can talk about it… If it's a situation where I felt it was appropriate or absolutely necessary. If other considerations were stronger than my own feelings.'

The smell of her, the smell of her hair and skin, a mixture of chemicals and sweat, her forehead had an almost metallic gleam. The enamel of her teeth was destroyed by all the pills, bluish, like skimmed milk. The whites of her eyes slowly turned yellow.

In front of him stood Skarre, with his head held high, not in the least self-conscious. Sejer had expected this; hadn't he babbled too much, crossed the line in getting too friendly with Skarre? Shouldn't he apologise?

'But you've never felt it was necessary?'

Now he was staring at the young man standing in front of him. He seemed to be holding out a fist.

'No,' he said firmly, shaking his head.

He started walking again.

'I see,' Skarre said, unperturbed. 'What did Mrs Johnas say?'

'They had a fight. She heard them screaming at each other. The bathroom door slammed, the plate smashed. Johnas had a bad temper. She says he blames himself.'

'I would too,' Skarre said.

'Do you have anything at all encouraging to say?'

'In a way. Annie's school bag.'

'What about it?'

'Remember that it had some kind of grease on it? Most likely to wipe away any fingerprints?'

'So?'

'We've identified what it is. A kind of cream that contains tar, among other things.'

'I have cream like that,' Sejer said, surprised. 'For my eczema.'

'No. It's a special cream for dogs. For injured paws.'

Sejer nodded. 'Johnas has a dog.'

'And Axel Bjork has a German shepherd. And you have a lion. I'm just mentioning it,' Skarre said quickly, holding the door open. The chief inspector led the way, feeling rather confused.