Calling Out For You aka The Indian Bride

Mode took a coin from the bowl and put it in the Wurlitzer. The music's as old as Einar, so help me God, it crossed his mind. The cafe was busy. Einar was drying glasses. He wasn't very talkative these days. Rumour had it that Lillian had started packing. Wicked tongues thought it a bit odd that the break-up had happened so soon after the murder at Hvitemoen and the arrest of Goran Seter. Imaginations were working overtime.

Nudel, Karen and Frank sat chatting in a corner. They ordered more beer and looked across to Mode's petrol station where Torill was working behind the counter. Mode came over to their table and sat down. He was a quiet man with a calm face. His hair was blond and thin and combed straight back from his forehead. He looked older than his twenty-eight years.

'Of course, we can sit here saying Goran is innocent,' Frank said. 'But the truth is that if they'd nicked someone else other people would be sitting at some other table saying exactly the same thing. That's what I think.'

They all looked down at their glasses.

'Another thing is…' Nudel said anxiously. 'All the stuff the cops know that they haven't said. When they go as far as bringing him in, they have to know a lot more.'

'Yes, but for goodness' sake!' Frank said, shaking his head. 'Has Goran ever hit anyone?'

'There's always a first time,' Mode said, lighting a cigarette.

'I wonder if we're allowed to visit him?'

Einar coughed from behind the counter. 'There are restraints on his letters and visits. None of us would get in. His parents, perhaps. No-one else.'

'Imagine sitting alone in a cell, no radio, TV or newspapers. Not being able to control what they write about him.'

'Does anyone know what sort of chap this defence lawyer is?' Nudel said.

'Thin, grey fellow,' Mode said. 'Doesn't look very tough.'

'Well, it's not exactly muscles that lawyers need most of in court,' Frank said. He rocked his heavy head from side to side. 'They're talking about forensic evidence. I'd like to know what they mean by that.'

'Hair, stuff like that,' Nudel said. 'It would be bad news for Goran if he's left any hairs behind.'

'You talk as if Goran did it!' Frank said heatedly.

'But, for fuck's sake,' Nudel said. 'He's in there! They're putting together a case against him. They must have something on him.'

'But I don't understand,' said Frank, as if he could not grasp even the possibility that he might be so mistaken about another human being. 'They'll probably have him examined by a psychiatrist to decide if he is sane.'

'Well, he is. At least we know that.'

Frank took several gulps of his beer and burped. 'Whoever smashed that woman's head in certainly isn't.'

'He could be sane otherwise,' Einar said. 'Just not at that very moment.'

A new comment which needed digesting. It was quiet for a while. Everyone had a picture of Goran in their minds. They imagined him sitting at one of the tables, drinking from a plastic cup. They imagined his face desperate and lost, with beads of sweat on his forehead. Crouched in a chair, a hard chair perhaps. He'd been sitting there for a long time and was starting to jerk from side to side. His back ached. He kept looking at the clock. A gruff interrogation leader in front of him who decided how long they were going to sit there. The image was very vivid to them, but incorrect.

*

At that very moment Goran was sinking his teeth into a fresh-baked pepperoni pizza. The cheese formed fine strings which he gathered up with his fingers.

'You were used to Ulla,' Sejer said quietly, 'and when she said she was breaking up with you, you didn't take it seriously?'

'No,' Goran said, munching greedily. The pizza was good, he had asked for extra seasoning.

'So it didn't upset you?'

He swallowed and washed the mouthful down with Coke. Ran a hand through his coarse hair. 'No,' he said.

'Ulla said you were angry. Strange how people are. We see things differently. Perhaps you weren't sad either?'

'Sad?' said Goran blankly.

'Tell me something that would make you sad,' Sejer said.

Goran thought hard. He took another bite.

'Can't you think of anything?'

'I'm never sad.'

'But what if you're not happy? You're a nice guy, but surely you're not always happy?'

'Of course not.'

'So?'

Goran wiped his mouth. 'If I'm not happy, then I'm angry, of course.'

'Ah… I get it. But you can't possibly have been happy when Ulla broke up with you?'

Long pause. 'I understand what you're getting at.'

'You were angry. Can we agree on that?'

'We can agree on that.'

Another pause.

'So you called Lillian. You asked if you could come over?'

'Yes. She said it was fine.'

'She's saying that you never came to her house. Did something happen?'

'No! I was with Lillian.'

He took a fresh napkin and wiped his mouth again.

'Did you need comforting?'

Goran snorted. 'I never need comforting.'

'So what did you need?'

'For Christ's sake, man. Use your imagination!'

'You needed a woman's company?'

Goran gawped at him and leaned forward across the table. He was grinning so heartily that Sejer frowned.

'Please explain to me what's so funny. You're too quick for me, Goran.'

Goran digested the compliment and mimicked Sejer. ''You needed a woman's company.' Good God, when did you grow up? In World War One?'

Sejer smiled. 'I'm old-fashioned. So you've found me out. But anyway. What did you need?'

'To come,' Goran said curtly. He sank his teeth into the pizza once again.

'Did you?'

'I've already told you.'

'No. You called Lillian. She said you could come over. Let's do this one step at a time. Just what were her exact words?'

'Eh?'

'Can you remember exactly what she said?'

'She said it was fine.'

'Just 'That's fine'?'

'Right.'

'Did you notice a foreign woman walking along the road as you came driving?'

'I didn't see anyone.'

'Was she carrying a suitcase?'

'I didn't see any suitcase.'

'What colour was it?'