Karin Fossum - Bad Intentions

‘I know he was holding something back,’ she hiccuped. ‘Mothers always know. But whenever I asked, he would draw back. It must have been something serious since he was too scared to tell me. That’s what I thought. Something really serious.’

At this point Axel and Reilly both chose to nod emphatically.

‘His funeral is next Friday,’ Ingerid said. ‘At one o’clock. The vicar is coming tomorrow. I hope he is a considerate man and that he can find something to say, something meaningful. Please would you help me choose some music?’ she asked. ‘What did Jon like to listen to? Please tell me.’

‘Madrugada,’ Axel said.

‘Madrugada, definitely,’ Reilly said. ‘Jon wouldn’t have settled for anything less.’

‘I see. Is that a band?’

‘Yes. Jon liked Madrugada more than anything else. We can sort that out for you. We’ll find something suitable.’

‘We can’t have rock music in a church,’ she said.

‘We’ll pick something quiet,’ Axel said. ‘Trust us.’

‘“Highway of Light,”’ Reilly suggested.

‘Yes, “Highway of Light”, definitely,’ Axel agreed. ‘It will raise the roof of the church. It is grand and symphonic. It always used to send shivers down Jon’s spine when he listened to it.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re so kind.’

She leaned forward across the table as if to crawl over to them.

‘I wish he had left behind a letter,’ she said. ‘A last message. I have spoken to Hanna Wigert. She said he might have been struck by an acute psychosis, but we’ll never know for sure.’

She wrung her hands on the table. Reilly grew scared that the joints of her fingers would snap.

‘And then I need to talk to Molly. If she wants to see me. And his things need to be collected. I’m dreading it. Entering the room where he slept, taking his toothbrush out of the glass. His clothes and everything.’

‘Let us do that, please,’ Axel said. ‘Then you won’t have to.’

Again she smiled with gratitude.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘You’re so kind. Thank you for everything you have been for Jon, you meant so much to him. I’ll never forget you two.’

She clasped their hands on the table.

‘And now there’s something I need to tell you,’ she said.

She looked earnestly at them both.

‘What happened must be difficult for you and perhaps you feel responsible, but you’re not. I don’t blame you for anything. Promise me, please, that you will put this behind you and move on.’

Ladegården Psychiatric Hospital was a yellow, three-storey building set in an attractive park with sculptures and fountains. A network of paths bordered by flowers and bushes criss-crossed the grounds. Axel stopped the Mercedes in the visitors’ car park and for a while they sat watching the yellow façade. Jon had slept behind one of the arched windows.

‘His room was on the first floor,’ Axel said.

Reilly started counting. ‘It’s up there,’ he said, pointing. ‘Fourth window from the left.’

Axel stuck a Marlboro in his mouth and Reilly opened the car window. He did not want to go inside, did not want see Jon’s room or his things. However, they had promised Ingerid Moreno they would take care of it. Axel finished his cigarette. They went to reception and explained why they had come.

‘We would like to talk to Hanna Wigert,’ Axel said. ‘We’re here to collect Jon Moreno’s belongings.’

Reilly had imagined Hanna Wigert to be a big, sturdy woman. There was something about her name that proclaimed a full bust and broad shoulders. However, Hanna Wigert was small and composed with an impressive mane of red, curly hair. Reilly was aware that she was judging them. It appeared she was drawing some swift conclusions.

‘So,’ she said gravely. ‘You wanted Jon’s things?’

Axel nodded. He was wearing his wistful smile.

‘I’ve been expecting you,’ she said. ‘Ingerid Moreno called.’

She studied them for several long seconds with a sharpness which made Reilly say a silent prayer. He had never felt so scrutinised. I need a fix, he thought.

She turned on her heel and walked off in white strappy shoes, noiseless against the linoleum floor. They followed her up a broad staircase where every step was edged with brass. It smelled as though someone had just washed it. Lemon, Reilly thought, or apple. Then they went down a long corridor until they reached a door. She opened it, and they looked inside. The room was reminiscent of a cell. The bed was stripped of linen and someone had taken Jon’s clothes out of the wardrobe and dumped them on the mattress. A pair of trousers here, a sock and a jumper there. The pile of clothes made Reilly imagine that Jon had fallen apart like a doll and that he could not be put back together again. The mattress repelled him. It had blue and white stripes and was covered with a kind of plastic sheet, through which he could detect some stains.

‘There’s not much,’ Hanna Wigert said. ‘Just some clothes. And his stereo and CDs. I’ll get you some boxes.’

Reilly was restless. He paced up and down the floor, went over to the window and looked out at the park, at the paths and the fountains.

‘I feel like an intruder,’ he said. ‘This is Jon’s room. We’ve got no right to be here.’

‘Let’s just get it over with,’ Axel said.

Reilly went to the bed and held a knitted jumper to his face. It was blue with a darker pattern across the chest. Suddenly he was surrounded by Jon. He inhaled the smell and his throat closed instantly as though a stick had been pushed down it.

‘We need to fold them carefully,’ Axel said, ‘so Ingerid can see that we’ve made an effort. Don’t just stand there. Procrastinating will only make it worse.’

Reilly was still pressing the jumper to his face. It was as if Jon were very close and wanted to tell him something. Bring me back, the voice said, I don’t want to be alone here in the dark.

‘Now get a move on,’ Axel ordered him.

Hanna Wigert returned with the boxes. She put them down on the floor and placed her hands on her hips.

‘If you understand anything about what’s happened, I expect you to tell me,’ she said.

Reilly let go of the jumper. Axel pulled the boxes towards him. It said Evergood on one and Delikat on the other.

‘It came as a shock,’ he said. ‘But then again, he was ill,’ he added.

‘Ill,’ Hanna Wigert echoed. ‘Not suicidal.’

Axel picked up a pair of trousers. Hanna Wigert did not take her eyes off him. There was something ominous about her disapproving look and her wild red hair.

‘If you think that we bear some responsibility for this, then you’re probably right,’ Axel said. ‘We should have seen that something was up, we should have taken more care. But we don’t have your experience, we’re just ordinary people.’

His words silenced her. She left, closing the door behind her, and Jon’s room fell quiet.

‘She’s one angry woman,’ Axel said. ‘She practically had steam coming out of her ears. I thought she would blow her top.’

‘Jon liked her very much,’ Reilly said.

‘Jon was desperate,’ Axel said. ‘He liked anyone who was nice to him.’

That was when Reilly snapped. He grabbed hold of Axel and shook him.

‘You’re a prick,’ he said, ‘and you’ll shut up now! Jon was worth much more than you!’

Axel grunted by way of reply. They packed Jon’s belongings in silence: jumpers, trousers, underwear, CDs and a couple of books, socks. Axel thought they could pair the socks at random, but Reilly protested.

‘Jon was very neat,’ he said.

When everything was packed up, they surveyed the bare room.