Karin Fossum - Bad Intentions

‘Look at the mirror,’ Reilly said. ‘It’s plastic.’

‘This is a desolate place,’ Axel said. ‘How do people stand it?’

‘They have no choice,’ Reilly argued.

They carried Jon’s possessions to reception. Axel went down the stairs first. Reilly followed him, a little anxious about tripping in his long coat. He was carrying the heaviest box with books and CDs. Hanna Wigert was waiting for them. She gave them another long, critical look.

‘There was just one more thing,’ Axel said. He put the box on the floor. ‘Could we meet Molly, please?’

‘Meet Molly?’ she said.

‘After all, they were friends,’ Axel said. ‘Jon spoke so much about her and she would probably like to go to his funeral. It’s on Friday. One o’clock. I thought we could have a little chat.’

Hanna Wigert frowned.

‘Molly has enough on her plate as it is,’ she said.

‘I’ll understand if she says no,’ Axel said, ‘but please would you give her the choice? It’s about Jon. She’ll probably want to know.’

Hanna Wigert looked defeated.

‘I don’t even know where she is.’

‘But you could check her room, please?’ Axel asked. ‘We understand that you have to protect your patients, but some decisions they have to make for themselves.’

Axel’s impertinence made Hanna Wigert feel dizzy. She gestured towards a small waiting room and went to find Molly Gram, walking off this time with a touch of indignation so that her otherwise noiseless shoes could be heard against the floor. Axel and Reilly sat looking out of the large windows. The sound of a lawnmower cut through the silence.

‘What do you want with her?’ Reilly whispered.

‘I just need to check something,’ Axel said. ‘Find out if she knows anything.’

Reilly shook his head, despairing. ‘And if she knows something, what are you going to do?’

Axel grabbed a magazine and started flicking through it.

‘We need to know where we stand,’ he said. ‘I need to be in control. I’ll be able to tell immediately if she knows something.’

Reilly stuffed his big hands in his coat pockets.

‘If Jon confided in Molly, there’s sod all we can do about it. Or what did you have in mind?’

Axel did not reply. They listened towards the corridor. The big building was strangely quiet; no shouting, no laughter, no footsteps. But they could hear a distant drone as from a big engine far away, or perhaps it was located underneath them, in the basement.

A young woman entered the room. The light from one of the tall windows glowed behind her. She was slender as a reed, with wispy blonde hair and harshly made up eyes. She wore a ballerina’s tutu with tights underneath and ballet pumps on her feet. In her arms she was cradling a small white dog.

Good heavens, Reilly thought. Molly Gram is an angel.

She looked at them with black eyes. Suddenly the dog freed itself, leapt down to the floor and ran to greet Axel. However, Axel ignored the small, shaggy animal, and after several failed attempts at getting his attention, it ran over to Reilly instead. Here it received a warmer welcome. Reilly stroked its head and the dog began nipping at the legs of his corduroy trousers. Reilly waited patiently. He could not make himself shoo it away and he did not move his leg. He saw that the dog had got its teeth into a torn flap of worn fabric and was pulling at it. After a while it started growling as though it were playing with another dog and Reilly decided to withdraw his foot. No good. The dog was fixed to his trouser leg. It had no intention of giving up its prey, even if it was only a scrap of corduroy. He looked towards Molly for help.

‘Melis,’ she said. ‘Drop it.’

The command was barely audible, but the dog instantly let go, spun around and ran back to her.

Axel stepped forward to greet her.

‘My name’s Axel,’ he said, ‘and the giant here is Philip Reilly. It’s kind of you to see us, we really appreciate it. We’re friends of Jon.’

He took both of her hands in his and Reilly knew that Axel’s hands were warm, and that the warmth would spread to her whole body. You might even think he had hands like a healer. Reilly had seen many girls go weak at the knees, but Axel Frimann had no effect on Molly. She stood very still and looked at him with her black eyes.

‘We thought you might want to go to the funeral,’ Axel said. ‘It’s on Friday, in Brodal Church. One o’clock.’

She measured him from his head down to his Italian leather shoes.

‘We used to walk together,’ she said. ‘In the evening. After dinner.’

‘Where did you go?’ Axel asked. ‘Tell us, please.’

‘Through the park,’ she said, ‘and down the path. It runs in a figure of eight through the forest and it’s just the right distance. It took us an hour. And we would stop on the way back and drink water from the fish fountain up there. There is a carp that spews water.’

Axel smiled. ‘If you want to go to the funeral, we could come and pick you up,’ he offered.

‘I’ll be getting a lift with Hanna,’ she said.

A pause followed.

She looked as if she was about to leave.

‘Melis!’ she called out. ‘Come here.’

‘Jon was really into you,’ Axel said.

She took one step forward.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘At the cabin, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘We don’t know,’ Axel said. ‘He went out during the night while we were sleeping. He was gone when we got up.’

She shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘We had an agreement. Jon would not have broken our agreement.’

‘Everybody does sooner or later,’ Axel said. ‘If they don’t, they’re not human. Please don’t judge Jon even though he might have disappointed you.’

She fixed her kohl-black eyes on him again.

‘Judge Jon? Are you even listening to me?’

She headed for the door. Her narrow back disappeared. Melis ran after her.

The men left. They turned around and looked back at the yellow façade. Reilly got the feeling that Molly was watching them from a window.

‘That girl’s still having toddler tantrums,’ Axel said. ‘You know the way they stamp their feet.’

‘She’s ill,’ Reilly reminded him.

‘It’s not that she’s ill,’ Axel said. ‘More that she’s a wildcat. If you want to catch one of those, you need to wear protective gloves.’

In her office Hanna Wigert had a blue sofa with a high back. It was a two-seater and had come from her childhood home in Kragerø. When she was a little girl she used to jump up and down on it. She had climbed its tall back and watched the shimmering sea through the windows. Sometimes, in the evenings, she had fallen asleep on it and her father had carried her off to bed without her noticing. When her parents had died she had collected the sofa and put it in her office. It reminded her of goodness. Not everyone had grown up in such fortunate circumstances, and some of those people came to this office. Now the sofa was covered with rag dolls and cuddly toys. They were piled in a big heap, and they took up a lot of room.

She shook Sejer’s hand and asked him to sit down. He moved dolls and animals and she noticed that he handled them with the utmost care. They were not tossed aside, but were gently placed against the armrests of the sofa.

‘What do you want to know?’ Hanna Wigert asked.

Sejer moved a sheep with a curly fleece.

‘What did you think when you heard about Jon’s suicide?’ he said.

‘I was surprised,’ she said.

‘Why?’

She considered this for a long time. Her hair, it struck him, looked like wool. Like the sheep’s.

‘Because it was unexpected,’ she said. ‘Everyone gives off light. You can see it in their eyes or their bodies or in the way they move. You can tell that something drives them. It’s a form of energy. Jon Moreno’s light was still safe and sound.’