‘What about Jon’s doll? Does it have a name?’
‘It’s called Kim.’
‘Kim. Why is that?’
‘He told me it reminded him of someone he met once. He wouldn’t say anything more and I don’t know if it was significant, but the doll is called Kim.’
Sejer squeezed the doll’s tummy as though he expected it to squeak.
‘Some people have a negative reaction,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘They think my office is childish. But in time they get used to the rag dolls. It’s important to be a little childish,’ she added and flashed a smile at the inspector. He’s quite attractive, she thought, and she enjoyed playing a bit on her femininity, of which she had plenty when it suited her.
Sejer examined Kim the rag doll with renewed interest. It was roughly thirty centimetres long, made from golden brown canvas and wore tiny socks on its feet.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘Jon didn’t want to go on the trip to the cabin.’
‘Did he say as much?’
She picked up a doll from the pile. Now she needed something to fidget with.
‘He practically begged me not to make him go. But I was so keen to get him out among other people, that I talked him into it. I explained it was vital to keep in touch with the world outside. And he was going with his friends. They would take good care of him. I didn’t take my cue from him. That was unforgivable, and it will haunt me for the rest of my life.’
She slumped a little in her chair. She raised a hand to her eyes.
‘Did he say why he didn’t want to go?’
‘I tried to press him, but he was evasive. And I’m breaking my duty of confidentiality here, but you represent an authority which allows me to do so,’ she said. ‘Jon suffered badly from anxiety. He believed that his anxiety would worsen if he left the ward, that it would overcome him in the forest. And it clearly did.’
‘And yet you’re surprised at what happened,’ he said. ‘What makes someone commits suicide out of the blue?’
She tossed her doll back on the sofa.
‘It’s called a psychological accident,’ she said. ‘Several factors present themselves simultaneously and lead to a fatal outcome.’
‘Such as?’
She thought again.
‘I’m trying to find a story,’ she said, ‘which can illustrate what I mean. I should have quite a few to choose from because I’ve seen this before. Oh, yes, I recall a story from Sweden that’s a good example.’
She leaned forward eagerly.
‘A man spends the weekend at a cabin with some friends,’ she began. ‘They go elk hunting. After a long time he returns home to his wife with fresh elk meat. Monday morning he gets into his car and drives to work. He has a well-paid job with a renowned firm. Then his boss comes into his office and tells him that the company has to cut costs, and that sadly he will have to let him go. In a few seconds he loses everything. His financial independence, his sense of belonging and his status. He gets into his car to drive home, overwhelmed by despondency. His entire world has collapsed. He pulls over at a bus stop, where he sits in despair. Then he remembers that his rifle is still in the boot of his car after the hunting trip. He fetches the weapon, loads it and shoots himself through the head.’
Sejer listened to her story.
‘He didn’t have time to think of another solution,’ he said.
‘Precisely,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘Two things occured simultaneously. A crisis and access to a weapon.’
‘What do you think might have happened to Jon?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t understand it. According to his mother he started getting ill last winter. Up until then he was well-adjusted, but very sensitive. In some way he was predisposed, of course, but we are not aware of any inherited tendencies, and he never hinted at an experience or a trauma which might explain it.’
‘Did he confide in any of the patients?’
‘He became friends with one of the girls here. She doesn’t understand it either.’
She scrutinised him.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
‘It’s pure routine in cases like this one…’
‘In case he didn’t take his own life,’ she completed the sentence for him. ‘But met his death in some other way?’
‘Yes,’ Sejer conceded. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘What have you found out?’
Sejer hesitated.
‘I can’t discuss that,’ he said.
‘But you’ve found something, haven’t you?’
‘Let me put it this way,’ Sejer said. ‘There are a couple of things that disturb us. Details which we don’t understand.’
Hanna Wigert stared down at her lap. She reminded him of a defiant little girl.
‘He couldn’t swim,’ she said.
‘We know,’ Sejer said.
‘Those two friends of his,’ she continued. ‘They had a great deal of power over him.’
‘Where are you going with this?’
She retreated as though she was on shaky ground, and he did not get a reply.
He was still holding Kim in his lap. He pinched the coarse yarn hair and carefully tugged at the tiny white socks. They reminded him of the rubber caps you put on your fingertips when you want to leaf through a stack of papers. Reacting to an impulse, which he could not account for, a small request escaped him.
‘Please may I take this with me?’
‘The doll?’
‘I want to keep it in my office.’
‘But what do you want with it?’
‘It’s a link to Jon,’ he said. ‘And after all, it’s important to be a little childish.’
Afterwards he spoke to Molly Gram.
She refused to come downstairs, but she had said he could go to her room. When he entered, she was sitting on her bed with the white dog on her lap. It was a terrier, he noticed. It pricked up its ears. Sejer held out his hand, but she did not take it. The dog, however, expressed interest: it licked and sniffed it. He pulled out a chair and sat down by her bed.
‘You can ask your questions now,’ she said.
Sejer studied the sullen young woman with paternal interest. Her hair was in a total mess, dry and soft like cotton grass. Underneath the black make-up she was sweet, but she wanted to come across as something else; the make-up served almost as a declaration of war. She was fierce, bitter and dismissive, and it was not up to him to decide if she had good cause to be. For a while he pondered how to approach her. Her body might be small and fragile, he thought, but she had an old head on those young shoulders.
‘There’s a game I like to play when I meet new people,’ he said.
She rolled her eyes. She stroked Melis across his back.
‘I give them a place in the animal kingdom,’ Sejer said. ‘According to their attributes. And their appearance.’
She continued to caress the dog with her fingers as thin as noodles, and he could see that she was listening.
‘I decide very quickly,’ Sejer said, ‘and if an animal doesn’t spring to mind, then I’ll never find out who they are. Some are impossible to categorise or too vague, while others are blatantly obvious.’
Long pause. She had hunched her shoulders, and he noticed a wasp tattoo on her white neck.
‘When I saw you, I made up my mind almost immediately,’ he said. ‘It took me seconds.’
She stopped caressing Melis. Her eye make-up was so dark that it looked like a mask, but this time she was
