Karin Fossum - Eva's Eye

The following day he put Kollberg into the car again and drove to the nursing home where his mother had lived for four years. He parked in the visitors’ car park, gave the dog a quick pep talk, and walked to the main entrance. He always had to psych himself up before he went, needed that extra bit of energy. It was lacking now, but a fortnight had passed since his last visit. He straightened up and nodded to the caretaker who was just coming along with a stepladder on his shoulder, he had a relaxed swing to his walk and a contented smile on his face, the sort of man who loved his job, who lacked nothing in life, and who perhaps never understood what everyone else was making such a fuss about. Extraordinary. There aren’t many expressions like that, Sejer thought, and suddenly caught sight of his own gloomy face in the glass door facing him. I’m not especially happy, he thought suddenly, but then I’ve never been very concerned about it either. He took the stairs to the first floor, nodded briefly to a couple of staff and walked straight to her door. She had a single room. He knocked loudly three times and went in. Inside, he stopped a moment, so that the sounds could register with her, it always took a little time. There, she was turning her head. He smiled and went to her bed, pulled up the chair, and encompassed her thin hand in his.

“Hello, Mom,” he said. Her eyes had become paler and they were very shiny. “It’s only me. Come to see how you’re doing.” He squeezed her hand, but she didn’t squeeze back.

“I was in the vicinity,” he lied.

He felt no sense of guilt. He had to talk about something, and it wasn’t always easy.

“I hope you’ve got all you need here.”

He looked around, as if he were checking.

“I hope they take the time to pop in and sit on your bed now and again — the staff here. They say they do. I hope they’re telling the truth.”

She didn’t reply. She stared at him with her light eyes as if waiting for something more.

“I haven’t brought anything with me. It’s a bit difficult, they tell me flowers aren’t very good for you, and there’s not a lot else to choose from. So I’ve just brought myself. Kollberg’s in the car,” he added.

Her eyes relinquished him and turned toward the window.

“It’s overcast,” he said quickly. “But nice and bright. Not too cold. Hope you’ll be able to lie out on the veranda when summer comes. You always did like to get out as soon as you had the chance, just like me.”

He took her other hand as well, they were lost in his own.

“Your nails are too long,” he said suddenly. “They should be clipped.”

He felt them with his finger, they were thick and yellow.

“It would only take a couple of minutes, I could do it, but I’m a bit clumsy, I’m afraid. Haven’t they got people here who take care of that kind of thing?”

She looked at him again, with her mouth half-open. Her false teeth had been removed, they claimed that they only got in her way. It made her look older than she really was. But her hair was combed and she was clean, the sheets were clean, the room was clean. He gave a small sigh. He looked at her again, searching hard for the least sign of recognition, but found none. She shifted her gaze once more. When at last he got up and went to the door, she was still staring out of the window, as if she’d already forgotten him. Out in the corridor he met one of the nurses. She smiled invitingly at the tall figure, he gave a quick smile back.

“Her nails are too long,” he said quietly. “Would it be possible to do something about that?”

Then he left to struggle with the depression which always came over him after his visits to his mother. These depressions lasted a couple of hours, and then lifted.

Later, he drove out to Engelstad, but first he made a couple of phone calls. A question had arisen in his mind, and the answers he received gave him something to think about. Even people’s tiniest movements create ripples, he thought, just as the fall of a minute pebble could be registered in a totally different place on a totally different shore, a place you hadn’t even dreamt of.

Eva Magnus opened the door, dressed in a voluminous shirt which was covered in black and white paint. A block of wood wrapped in sandpaper was in her hand. He could see from her face that he was expected, and that she’d already made up her mind what she was going to say. It infuriated him.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Magnus. It’s been some time.”

She gave a small nod.

“The last time it was Maja Durban — and now it’s Egil Einarsson. Strange, isn’t it?”

His comment caused her to take a deep breath.

“I’ve only got one small question.” He spoke politely, but not diffidently. He was never diffident. He exuded authority and, if he wanted to, could make people a trifle nervous — as he was doing now.

“Yes, I’ve already heard about it,” she said, and retreated a little way into the hall. She shook her long hair back over her shoulder and closed the door behind him. “Jostein phoned. But I’ve got nothing to add. Just that I saw that poor man float in, and that I rang you. At around five in the afternoon. Emma was with me. I can’t remember who I spoke to, if that’s what you’re wondering, but if you’ve neglected to register a call, that isn’t my problem. I did my duty, if you can call it that. I haven’t got anything more to say.”

She’d rattled off her speech. She’d clearly practiced it several times.

“Help me a little with the voice anyway, so I can deal with this neglect of duty. It’s really quite serious if this sort of thing occurs. All incoming calls should be logged. It’s something we really do have to crack down on, if you know what I mean.”

She was standing with her back to him at the door of the living room, and he glimpsed the large black and white paintings that had made such an impression on him the first time. He couldn’t see her face but, like a hedgehog, all her spines were up. She knew he was bluffing, but she couldn’t say so.

“Well, goodness, he had a perfectly normal voice. I didn’t think anything about it.”

“East Norwegian dialect?”

“Er, yes, I mean no, I can’t remember if there was any special dialect, I don’t notice things like that. Anyway, I was a bit stressed, with Emma and everything. And he wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight.”

She went into the living room now, still with her back toward him. He followed.

“Old or young?”

“No idea.”

“In fact, it was a female officer on the desk that afternoon,” he lied.

Eva halted in the living room. “Oh? Then she must have gone to the bathroom or something,” she said quickly. “I spoke to a man, I’m sure of that at least.”

“With a southern dialect?”

“For God’s sake, I don’t know. It was a man, I can’t remember any more. I did phone, and there’s nothing more to say.”

“And — what did he say?”

“Say? Well, not much, but he asked where I was phoning from.”

“And after that?”

“Nothing really.”

“But he asked you to wait at the scene?”

“No. I just explained where it was.”

“What?”

“Yes. And I said it was near the Labor Party headquarters. Where the statue of the log-driver is.”

“And then you both left?”

“Yes, we went and ate. Emma was hungry.”

“My dear Mrs. Magnus,” he said slowly, “are you seriously telling me that you phoned and reported finding a body, and you weren’t even asked to wait there?”

“But for God’s sake, I can’t be answerable for the mistakes your people make when they’re at work! He might have been young and inexperienced for all I know, but it wasn’t my fault!”