Karin Fossum - Eva's Eye

“I thought you said you weren’t going to sell.”

There was silence in the car, which had become hot and humid, the windows were misting up. He turned on the fan to clear them. Eva turned one last time and stared back at the town. The occasional welder’s flame could be seen from the new railway bridge that was under construction. The traffic became sparser and they were approaching the point where the street lighting ended. He went left at the roundabout and continued along the south side of the river. It was less of a torrent up here, but the current was powerful enough. After a few minutes’ silence he suddenly turned to the right. The aerodrome was on their left, while he rolled down a bumpy track and through a small clump of trees, halting on an open piece of ground right down by the river’s edge. Eva felt uncomfortable. There were no people nearby. The engine was still running, it purred softly and dependably, there was no doubting the car was in good condition.

“Ace fishing spot,” he said, pulling on the handbrake.

“Ninety-two thousand,” she put in quickly, “is that right? You haven’t wound the clock back?”

“Christ, is there no limit to your damn suspicions!”

“I just think it seems very low. This is a typical bloke’s car, and blokes tend to drive a lot. My Ascona is an ’eighty-two model and it’s done a hundred and sixty.”

“Well, it’s about time you had a new car, then. Want to take a look at the works?”

“It’s pitch black outside.”

“I’ve got a torch.” He turned off the engine and climbed out of the car.

Eva gathered herself for a moment and opened the door, a terrific gust of wind almost tore it out of her hand. “Damn weather!”

“It’s called autumn.” He raised the bonnet and secured it. “I admit that the engine’s been cleaned today. You wouldn’t have been able to see anything otherwise.”

Eva moved to his side and stared down at the shiny engine. “God, just like the family silver.”

“Yeah, isn’t it just?” He turned and grinned. One eye tooth was missing. “Nice stuff they make at Opel. Really great to work on.”

“Possibly so, but I won’t be doing it myself.”

“Didn’t think so. I’ve got some spare parts, they’re included in the sale, if we go ahead, that is.”

“And what’ll you get instead?”

“Not quite sure, I’m very tempted by a BMW. We’ll have to see. About this famous offer of yours.” He bent down again, and Eva saw his large bottom in the tight jeans. There was a wide strip of naked skin between his belt and his leather jacket. White and moist as bread dough. “I think I’ve found that oil leak here. It’s only a gasket. It’ll cost... maybe thirty or forty kroner. I’m sure to have one at home.”

Eva didn’t answer. She kept on staring at his backside, his white skin. He had a bald patch at the back of his head. She forgot to reply. In the silence she heard the rush of the river, an even roar. That poor bus driver, she thought, he’s probably still sitting in the interview room. He’s sick of the instant coffee by now and is struggling with his missing alibi. People haven’t always got an alibi, or perhaps he had one he didn’t want to use. Perhaps he had a girlfriend, and if he said anything about her his marriage would fall apart, if it hadn’t already done so. And his neighbors would be thinking things, and his grandchildren would have to find something to say to all those snotty little faces in the playground, when the rumor began to circulate that their grandfather was suspected of killing that tart in Tordenskioldsgate. Maybe he’d got a weak heart, maybe he’d have a heart attack and die while he was being interviewed. He was the right age, fifty-seven. Or maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend at all, but only dreamt of one, and had simply been driving around to be on his own, to get away for a bit. Stopped at a roadside kiosk and had something to eat, perhaps, or wandered along the river and got a bit of fresh air. And no one believed it, because grown men who’re old enough to be grandads don’t drive around aimlessly, unless they’re perverts, or have a lover. That one about the hot-dog stand won’t wash with us, you’ll have to do better than that. So, for the last time: when did you last visit Maja Durban?

“Here, the torch.” He’d straightened up again. He pushed it into her hand. She stood shining the light down at the grass. “Or I can hold it and you can look.”

“No,” she stammered, “it’s not necessary. I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, I’ll take your word. Buying a car is a matter of trust.”

“I think you ought to give it the once over. You’ve got to see just how great this is, there aren’t many blokes who keep engines the way I do. And it’s only had one previous owner. No one else is allowed to drive it either, the wife hasn’t got a license. I’m telling you, your offer better be good. And when we’ve signed the contract, I want you to have seen all over it, I don’t want any of this coming back afterwards, complaining about this and that.”

“I’m not a fool,” she riposted. “As far as this car’s concerned, I think I can trust you.”

“You bet you can. But women sometimes get funny ideas, that’s why I’m mentioning it. Sometimes they’ve got unpleasant things up their sleeve, in a manner of speaking.”

The knife, she thought.

He snorted mucus up his nose, and went on: “I’ve just got to make certain you can do a proper deal.”

She trembled. Raised the torch and shone it in his face. “Yes, I can. I’ll pay, and I’ll get the goods I’ve asked for. Don’t you think it’s wonderful, the way everything can be bought for money?”

“I haven’t been offered any money yet.”

“That’ll come after the AA test.”

“I thought you said you trusted me.”

“Only as regards the car.”

He snorted. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You just think about it for a bit.”

The river sent up a surge of writhing water, gave a great swish, and settled again.

He shook his head in disbelief and ducked down over the engine again. “Damn women,” he mumbled. “Coming here dragging some innocent bugger out of his warm garage and into this sodding storm, just to talk a load of piss!”

“Innocent?”

Eva felt the ground sinking beneath her. It made her fade a bit, feel relaxed and strange, she had to support herself on the car, she was standing on the left, just by the rod that was propping up the bonnet.

“What I mean is,” he boomed from the depths of the engine, “that you were the one who wanted the car. And I turn up just like we’d agreed. Don’t see why you’re so damn touchy.”

“Touchy?” she snapped. “D’you call this being touchy? I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse, I’ve seen people go completely berserk for nothing at all!”

He twisted around and looked at her suspiciously. “Christ’s sake, are you schizophrenic or something?” He bent down once more.

Eva gasped and felt her fury gaining the upper hand. It felt like a release, it rose at terrible speed, white hot like a stream of lava, poured up through the regions of her stomach, on into her breast and out along her arms, and she gesticulated wildly in the darkness, suddenly felt that she’d struck something and heard a scraping sound. The prop holding the bonnet up had been knocked away. The heavy metal lid came down with a clang. His bottom and legs protruded from the lip, the rest of him was hidden.

She backed away and screamed. From deep within there came some gurgling noises and a few choice oaths. Terrified, she stared at the bonnet, it must have been heavy, but it lifted a fraction, fell down again, and lifted once more. Eva’s heart was pounding so hard that he must have been able to hear it. She’d ignited his rage, just as Maja had done, and now that blind fury would be directed at her, in just a second or two he’d extricate himself and attack her with all his strength, so she took a few paces forwards, fumbled down her thigh for the pocket, pushed her hand in and found the knife. She pulled it out of its sheath.