Karin Fossum - Bad Intentions

‘Why are you tormenting yourself with such notions?’ Sejer asked. ‘After all, you’re a Christian. You’re going to find eternal life.’

‘I doubt that,’ Skarre confessed.

‘But the Bible says so,’ Sejer objected. ‘Do you simply pick bits and pieces and stick them together just as you please?’

‘Yes,’ Skarre admitted. ‘That’s how we do it.’ He let himself fall into a chair.

‘All of mankind will disappear too,’ Sejer said. ‘One day only insects will be left. And no one will know that we were ever here.’

‘But we were a great idea,’ Skarre said.

The telephone rang and he answered it. ‘Forensics,’ he said. ‘Snorrason.’

Sejer took the receiver and grabbed a pen.

‘I’ve got a preliminary autopsy report for you,’ Snorrason said. ‘I’ve examined his lungs. And it’s hard to draw any definite conclusions after such a long time, but there is evidence to suggest he was dead when he fell in the water.’

‘Then we have a case.’

‘Probably.’

‘Any idea who he is?’

‘Not so far. I’ll let you know.’

‘Cuts? Bruises?’

‘Doesn’t look like it. I can find no internal or external injuries.’

‘Strangulation?’

‘Unlikely.’

‘Toxins?’

‘We’ve sent samples off for testing. They’ll take time.’

‘So you can’t tell me anything about the cause of death?’

‘Not yet. And I’m sorry to have to mention this, but it’s possible that we might fail. It does happen. This young Asian man is an enigma.’

‘Let’s hope you come up with something,’ Sejer said. ‘Somewhere his parents are waiting for him.’

‘Everyone who comes to me had parents,’ Snorrason said.

Sejer and Skarre left the office and went out into the corridor. For years they had walked like this, side by side, sometimes in animated discussion, sometimes silent as now. When Sejer suddenly stumbled, Skarre automatically rushed to support him. Sejer slumped against the wall. He stood with his eyes closed for a few seconds.

‘What is it?’ Skarre said.

Sejer touched his head. His vision was blurred. ‘Oh, nothing. I don’t know.’ Baffled, he rubbed his eyes. The dizziness began to subside and Skarre, who was standing in front of him, came into focus once more.

‘Are you ill?’

‘Certainly not.’

Sejer wanted to walk on. He did so cautiously. Skarre hurried after him.

‘Haven’t you eaten?’ he asked. He had never seen the inspector lose his balance like that.

‘Of course I’ve eaten,’ Sejer said. ‘Now don’t fuss.’

They had reached the lift. Sejer had regained his composure. He pushed the button and below the lift whirred into motion.

‘I imagine your blood pressure plummeted,’ Skarre muttered.

‘Get in the lift,’ Sejer said.

They entered the lift. Sejer studied his younger colleague and decided to confide in him.

‘My stumbling is unlikely to be serious,’ he said. ‘But every morning when I go to the bathroom, something unpleasant happens. When I look in the mirror, I see this older man staring back at me. He seems familiar. He has penetrating eyes as though he knows me better than I do. There’s something about that man that rattles me,’ Sejer said. ‘Something that makes me want to show him the door.’

Skarre looked at the grey-haired inspector.

‘I’ve known that man a long time,’ he said. ‘He’s quite all right, really.’

Dear diary ,

Every one of us harbours guilt, every one of us has sinned in some way or other. I’m not talking about original sin, I don’t believe in that, but we’re not very old before we sin for the first time. We’re not very old before we lie or steal. Or speak ill of someone. We have all hated someone and felt envy surge through our bodies. We have all been greedy, we have all taken something that was not rightfully ours. We have all wanted to lash out or scream, we have all felt that rage inside us and perhaps thought the sensation felt good. Yet some people dance their way through life. And those who ought to feel shame, haven’t got the sense to feel it. Nevertheless I can forgive myself for most things, not for what happened in December, but for everything else. That I nicked money from Mum’s purse to buy chocolate when I was a boy, as kids do. Perhaps I ought to have told her, though I imagine she already knows because mums are canny; they’re always ahead of you. It would have been good to have something to blame it on, a bad childhood, or bad friends. Dad left us, but Mum never gave me cause to miss him. She was a mother and father to me. So if I end up in court I will hang my head and no defence counsel will find mitigating circumstances. I wonder what it’s like to lose someone, never having a grave, a concrete place to go – a small plot to weed, a place to plant something which can grow where the deceased rests. Not to have any of these things, but to live in ignorance while your imagination runs riot. When I think about that I feel ill, and I am consumed with such self-loathing that I can barely breathe. My disgust with myself thickens my blood. When I wake up in the morning the sheet is soaked with contempt. Reilly just gets high. I can understand why, I would like to have something like that, something that quells the despair. When it comes to Axel, I find it hard to fathom him, but he takes after his mother, and she’s a bitch, someone who just takes what they want without a thought for anyone else. So it runs in the family. Devil eggs breed devil children, Reilly says. He’s always got something apt to say because he reads so much. Reilly is a slow and meek guy. Sometimes he seems indifferent or lethargic, but perhaps he will surprise us after all. Axel is the boss and always has been, but Reilly works away quietly on the side. I would not rule out the possibility that he might do something one day. Something dramatic which will upset the equilibrium .

The pain in Axel’s wisdom tooth grew steadily worse and on the third day when he came home from work, he pulled off his clothes and went straight to bed. He switched off the light. He curled up against the wall. He lay with a flannel pressed against his cheek and at regular intervals he went to the bathroom to rinse it in cold water and wring it out. This relieved the pain for a few minutes. He moved the cloth around his face, across his cheeks and forehead, while he emitted faint groans. The pain filled his head. It made him tense his muscles, and the tension increased the pain. It was a vicious circle. When the doorbell rang, he stayed in bed. But whoever it was refused to go away and eventually he staggered out into the hall.

‘Bloody hell, you look a sight,’ Reilly said.

‘It’s spreading,’ Axel groaned. ‘It’s spreading across my jaw.’

‘Shouldn’t you go to the hospital, then?’

‘I don’t know. I feel nauseous. I’m clammy with sweat.’

Axel leaned against the wall for support. He stared at a point on the floor which started to move as he watched. It was a spider. He squashed it with his heel.

‘They’ve found a body,’ Reilly said. ‘In Glitter Lake.’

Axel’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘They’ve found a body. They say he’s Asian.’

Axel froze. For the first time in a long while the unbearable pain faded into the background.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s sit down.’

He collapsed in a chair, still pressing the cloth against his cheek. Axel’s furniture was covered in buffalo hide. He enjoyed the idea that the armchairs and sofa had once thundered across the savannah. Now it felt that way, literally, as if the chair was moving beneath him. The flannel against his cheek had long since reached room temperature, but it helped nevertheless. It was a symbol, like a bandage on a wound. The squashed spider was still stuck to his heel.