'He spotted the wheelchair the moment we entered the living room. Yes, it used to be Mum's, you've probably guessed that by now, I haven't got round to returning it. He asked if he could have a go and I said yes. So he rolled up and down the living room while I watched him from the sofa. He had a great time with that chair. You can imagine how kids are fascinated by such things. I told him I could teach him to balance on two wheels, if he wanted me to. I was getting really excited, I don't mind admitting that, I had never been so close to a boy, but I was also getting desperate. I could tell where this was going and I was scared the people in the farmhouse might be able to see us, you know, the farmer who is my landlord, or his wife. Or his daughters, he's got four of them, or even the Poles in the barn. So I hardly dared breathe.'
Brein brushed his hair away from his forehead. There is something theatrical about the movement. He clearly wants to come across as a tortured soul and I suppose he is, Sejer thought, anyone who ends up in this room is a tortured soul, they're here because someone wronged them.
'I had some Coke in the fridge,' Brein said, 'and he wanted some of it. We sat next to each other on the sofa and chatted. He answered all my questions with a voice as clear as a bell, he was so modest, he was so obedient. His thighs were so thin and I could see his round knees, I remember thinking that they would fit my hand exactly. So I raised my hand and placed it carefully on his knee. And you may not appreciate this, but it was a very special moment for me.'
'How did he react?' Sejer asked.
'He sat upright like a burning candle. He looked down at my hand and I saw no alarm or anxiety, merely wonder. His skin was golden, covered by downy hairs. As I sat there, I was overcome by dread, that he would tear himself loose and run to the door. There was nothing in the world I dreaded more than losing what I had finally found. And though I didn't want to hurt him, I lost control. And my conscience did trouble me a little, but I brushed it aside. I thought it would all be over in a minute, after which I would take care of him and drive him home, you know, look after him in every possible way.
'I pushed him down on the sofa and pulled off his shorts. At that moment I heard something clatter on to the floor, but I couldn't work out what it was. And then I had my way with him. I just took what I wanted. When I came round, and it was all over, something happened.'
'What happened, Brein?'
Brein rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and when he looked up, they were red and raw.
'He started wheezing,' he whispered. 'While I sat there looking at him, he turned blue.'
'And what did you do?'
'Nothing. I panicked.'
'Go on, Brein,' Sejer said.
'He started scrambling around the sofa,' Brein said, 'as though he was looking for something.'
'Jonas August was struggling to breathe,' Sejer said, 'and you sat there watching him and you did nothing. How long before he lost consciousness?'
'Not long. I could hear something was wrong. And then he flung himself off the sofa and started fumbling around the floor, and I was upset because I didn't understand what was going on. Then he collapsed and lay still. I hid in a corner. I had no idea what to do.'
'What was he looking for, Brein? What was it that had fallen out of the pocket of his shorts?'
'An inhaler,' he whispered. 'I found it under the sofa.'
'Jonas August had asthma.'
'I know that now. But,' he put on a distraught face, 'it's too late.'
Sejer started walking around the room, all the time keeping his gaze pinned on Brein.
'Jonas August died in your presence,' he said. 'The one thing that could have saved him was lying under your sofa?'
'Yes.'
'You just sat there watching him struggling to breathe?'
'Yes.'
'You never once thought of calling someone or running out of the house to get help? This you have to explain to me.'
'I can't explain it. I felt cold all over. What will I be charged with?' he asked. 'Can you tell me that? It won't be murder, will it? Can you give me an idea of what my sentence will be?'
'Did it never occur to you that you had to save him?'
'You can't blame me for that.' Brein said. 'I had a panic attack.'
Sejer suddenly felt tired. He sat down in his chair again and closed his eyes.
'The charges aren't ready yet,' he said. 'You'll be told later.'
Brein gave him an expectant look. 'I was promised some food.'
'And you shall have some,' Sejer said. 'But don't ask me for sympathy,' he added. 'Talk to your defence lawyer. He's on his way.'
Now it was Brein's turn to get up from his chair. He positioned himself by the wall and his face was defiant.
'Perhaps you're the one who needs sympathy,' he said.
Sejer frowned.
'You're only halfway there and you know it. I never laid a finger on Edwin Asalid.'
CHAPTER 43
Brein was transformed as if by a stroke of magic.
Gone was the bitterness, and the excuses, gone was the sullen look. He folded his arms and he straightened his back. He looked Sejer directly in the eye.
'I never laid a finger on Edwin Asalid. I obviously know who he was; we can agree that he stood out, can't we? I used to see him walking along the road, poor lad, waddling along with all his excess weight, but we can stay here all night or till next spring for that matter, I'm not going to change my story. You've got to look elsewhere. He clearly got into someone's car, but it wasn't mine.'
'Brein is adamant,' Sejer said. 'And I'm inclined to believe him.'
'There must be two of them,' Skarre said. 'It is possible.'
'Or,' Sejer said, 'Brein is a first-rate actor. He confesses to one killing because he thinks it might be classed as an accident, hoping meanwhile that Edwin will never be found. And that consequently we'll never have a case against him.'
'Let's hope the prosecutor can find an expert witness who can prove that Brein's assault led directly to Jonas August's asthma attack and death,' Skarre said. 'Do you realise that the worst case scenario means he's convicted of manslaughter. He'll only get six years.'
'Yes,' Sejer said, 'but I don't concern myself with sentencing. And neither should you.'
'How many rounds are you going to go with him?'
'I don't know. I'm uncomfortable sitting in there with him. It feels like I'm wasting precious time and I can't afford to do that.'
He went over to the window and stared down at the traffic in the street. 'It's snowing,' he said despondently.
'A lot?' Skarre looked towards the inspector.
'Very heavily. I'm worried.'
'About what.'
'Time passing. We're bound to find Edwin sooner or later. But how much will be left of his body when we do?'
'I see your point,' Skarre said. 'We were handed Brein on a plate. We won't be that lucky a second time.'
