'He's in the bedroom,' Kannick sniffled. And with that he dropped the pistol to the floor, bent double, and began to vomit again and again. He was still inside the wardrobe, vomiting over the rotting planks. Stew and whisky, everything poured out. He leaned against the wardrobe and let it happen. Sejer waited until he was done. Then he kicked the pistol behind him to where Skarre was, and went off to find the bedroom.
Morgan had been standing behind the door, waiting. Now he made for the woods, using what little remaining strength he had to race across the yard towards the trees. Ellmann saw the blond hair and colourful shorts from his hiding place. The poor man didn't have a chance.
The officer leaned down, patted the big dog's head, and whispered in his ear, 'Zeb. Attack!'
The animal leaped up and raced in pursuit like a furry bolt of lightning. Morgan was running. He didn't hear the dog come chasing after him, or anyone shouting. In fact, he heard only his own crashing feet. He ran, but all his strength was drained in an instant. Zeb saw the white hands and aimed for the left one. There was nothing aggressive about what the dog was about to do; it was years of training and a clear command, nothing more. Morgan stopped and gasped for breath. His knees were about to buckle under him. He had to check to see if anyone was after him. At that moment he stumbled and landed on his stomach. He rolled over and sat on his behind in the grass. Terrified, he stared at what was coming towards him. A black animal with gleaming jaws, his red tongue, the yellow teeth. The dog crouched down, preparing to jump. The white hands that he had been aiming for were gone. All he saw now was the red face, and in the middle of it, the yellow cloth. A perfect target. With one mighty leap he rushed forward and snapped his jaws. Morgan gave a heart-rending shriek. When the men reached him, he was sitting there, sobbing, with his face buried in his hands. Sejer paused for a moment to listen. The whimpering held a clear element of relief.
CHAPTER 21
Sara sat very still, on the edge of her chair. Sejer was telling her the whole story. She wanted to know everything: what position Errki was lying in, whether he had felt any pain. Sejer said he didn't think so. Most likely he was exhausted, and the loss of blood had drained him of all strength. Perhaps he felt as if he were falling asleep. Sejer sat there for a long time, trying to remember all the facts. There was only one small detail remaining.
'I can't believe that Errki is dead,' she whispered. 'That he's really gone. In fact, I can see him in my mind, quite clearly. Somewhere else.'
'Where?'
She smiled with embarrassment. 'Floating around in a vast darkness, without a worry in the world, looking down at us. Maybe he's thinking: if only they knew how beautiful it is, all those people down there, struggling away.'
The image brought a smile to Sejer's face, a brief, melancholy smile. He searched for something to say, something that might take away the sting of what he was going to have to tell her.
'I untangled the toad,' she said.
'Thanks. That's a relief.'
She was wearing a thin jacket, which she pulled tighter. He hadn't turned on the ceiling lights, only the lamp on his desk, with its green shade casting a watery glow over the office.
'There's something you should know.'
She looked up, and tried to read his expression.
'We found a wallet in Errki's jacket.' He cleared his throat. 'A red wallet, which belonged to Halldis Horn. In it, there were approximately 400 kroner in notes.'
He fell silent, waiting. The greenish light made her look pale.
'One-nil, in Konrad's favour,' she said, smiling sadly.
'I haven't won.' He couldn't think of anything else to say.
'What are you thinking about?' Sara asked.
'Is someone going to collect you?'
The question slipped out before he had time to think. Of course he could drive her home. But Gerhard no doubt had a car, and if she called him, he'd be there in no time. He pictured the man in his mind. He was sitting in a living room somewhere, staring at the clock, glancing at the telephone, ready to come and get the woman who belonged to him.
'No,' she said, shrugging. 'I came by taxi. The boss is in a wheelchair. Shut up in the house with me. He has multiple sclerosis.'
Sejer was surprised. He couldn't imagine Sara with an invalid husband. He had pictured things so differently. A thought that wasn't entirely pure crossed his mind.
'Why don't you let me drive you home?'
'Would you mind?'
'There's nobody waiting for me. I live alone.'
It didn't make a difference, one way or the other, that he had managed to say it.
Had he ever described himself that way before? Or called himself a 'widower' or 'single'?
Neither of them spoke in the car. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her knees; all the rest was but a presence, an inkling, a longing. His hands on the wheel seemed to give him away. Sejer felt as though they were screaming out loud that they needed something to hold. What was she thinking? He didn't dare turn and look at her. Errki was dead. She had worked with him all those months, and she had not been able to save him.
She gave him directions to her street. When he arrived at her door, he thought how much rather he would have preferred to drive with Sara beside him to the ends of the earth and back.
'I know it's silly,' she said suddenly. 'But it's so hard for me to comprehend.'
'That Errki's dead?'
'No. That he could have killed Halldis.'
He sat with his hands in his lap, twisting and turning them, and said awkwardly, 'There was something you said, earlier today. That sometimes, once in a great while, things happen which we can not possibly explain.'
She shrugged. 'I refuse to give up.'
'What do you mean?'
'I'm going to have to search for an explanation. Find out how it happened.'
'Where will you search?'
'In my papers. In my memory. For what he said, and all the things that he didn't say. I simply have to understand.'
'Will you let me know what you find?'
At last she looked up and smiled. 'Could you see me in?' she asked.
He was puzzled by her request but obediently he escorted her to the door, and watched as she put her key in the lock after first giving a brief tap on the doorbell. Maybe it was a signal to Gerhard that she was home. Sejer didn't want to meet her husband. If he saw him, his fantasies about their relationship would become all too real. Her home was a single-storey terrace bungalow with extra-wide doors, equipped for a disabled person. They were standing in the door of the living room. Sejer thought of a book he had read when he was young. The main character, who was deeply in love, escorted a woman home. He had lost his heart to her and thought that she lived alone. On the way, she told him that Johnny was waiting for her. At that instant, his heart broke. And then as they were standing in the living room, he understood that Johnny was a hamster.
Gerhard Struel was sitting at a desk, reading, wearing a knitted jacket in spite of the heat. The man was actually older than Sejer. He was bald, and his dark eyes were framed by glasses. On the floor next to him lay an Alsatian. The dog raised his head and stared.
'Papa,' Sara said. 'This is Chief Inspector Konrad Sejer.'
Gerhard Struel was not a hamster. He was a father!
Sejer tried to pull himself together as he clasped the outstretched hand. Why did she want him to see this? The house. The father who needed care. Perhaps she was saying, 'Take me away from all this!'
'I must get home to my dog,' he said.
