Karin Fossum - I Can See in the Dark

I gesticulated freely, my hands stressing each word.

‘You’ll be struggling with this case, Randers, I promise you. You’ll be struggling.’

‘We’ll see. I’ve got plenty of good helpers and I’m upholding the law. I have justice on my side.’

‘Your allegations have to be proved,’ I asserted. ‘Beyond reasonable doubt.’

‘In this instance I believe we can convict you on circumstantial evidence alone,’ Randers said confidently. ‘You don’t know how tenacious I am once I’ve made up my mind. I’m strong-willed and I like being right.’

He rose and walked to the door. He turned one last time.

‘Don’t go anywhere. You’re going to be charged. We’ll be coming for you.’

I stood at the window for a long while watching his green Volvo as it drove away. And I was thoroughly dazed. No sooner had the car disappeared, than I nipped out of the door and ran to the back of the house. I had to check Arnfinn’s grave. It still resembled a grave, but fortunately the earth had settled considerably. I decided to buy a rhododendron bush and plant it on the heap of earth, in fact, I decided to leave for the garden centre right away. I went round to the drive again, and stood there staring down the road. I stared until my eyes hurt, but couldn’t comprehend that all this had happened. One thing was very obvious. Someone was playing a game, and I’d been caught out.

I bought a fine, sturdy plant.

With a well-developed root system, strong leaves and stems. I paid through the nose for it, carted it home on the bus, which was straightforward enough; it was wrapped in netting and rested against my legs as I sat rocking to the hum of the warm and welcoming engine. Then I got out the spade and began digging. This time it was easy, the earth had been loosened already, and the rhododendron looked really nice once it was in place. Straight away the small hummock appeared less noticeable, even if it did seem a bit of an odd place to plant an ornamental shrub, but I’d made up my mind. Although there weren’t many callers at the house, I knew that Randers would be back. I finished off by watering the plant with the garden hose, I watered it thoroughly. If only Arnfinn had known that this was all for his benefit. That even a common thief could have a beautiful bush over his final resting place. It felt good. There was a sense of finality about it. I phoned the ward and said I was ill. I couldn’t face looking them in the eyes. If this were a plot, I needed time to work out a strategy. Dr Fischer took the call. He didn’t say much, and he certainly wasn’t sympathetic. I’ll soon be at work again, I declared, because I was quite certain of it, the things that were happening were totally absurd. I asked him to pass on my respects to Sister Anna. Remember, she’s lost her brother, I exhorted, she needs support.

Dr Fischer was abnormally reticent. Not that he’d ever been particularly forthcoming, but I noticed that he’d been affected by what had occurred. I chose to feign ignorance, but I was still feeling giddy from the strange turn my life had taken.

Then I sat down and brooded. I tried to marshal my thoughts, to form a strategy, but I was confused. That night the lorry made a tremendous racket, and simultaneously I developed an almost migraine-like headache. All next day I wandered about ruminating. I stood at the window for long periods and stared out at the road, the road I knew would bring them. I attempted to get some rest, ate some plain food, trudged about the garden, gazed at the lovely plant on the edge of the forest and tried to work out what was actually happening. But no matter how much I pondered, I couldn’t fathom this new chain of events. Someone was making a fool of me. And from deep within I felt a great resentment growing, against the person or persons who’d caught me in a trap.

A trap.

A rotten pit into which I’d fallen headlong. The green Volvo arrived a couple of days later.

Once again, I was well prepared, because they’d announced that they were coming, but it was surreal all the same. The two men stood at the top of the steps, their legs and shoulders wide. In case I should make any attempt at resistance, but I wouldn’t have even toyed with the idea, I’m no fool. And besides, I was innocent, and someone who’s innocent is strong, yes, almost indecently strong, chock-full of self-assurance and right on top of the situation. I really was, right on top of the situation. Randers stated his official errand firmly and concisely, his younger colleague tramped boldly past me and went into the house. Peered about everywhere, rummaged through my things. He checked the view from the windows, cast his eye over the contents of the rooms, the furniture, the desk and computer, brushed his hand across shelves and tables as if searching for dust. And dust is all he found. He smiled as he caught sight of my Advent Star in the window, just as Arnfinn had done. What’s wrong with having a star in the window in summertime? Then he put his hands on his hips and pretended to be important. I concentrated on what Randers was saying, even though it was inexplicable. That I was suspected of aggravated murder. I held my hands out to him, palms upwards, a symbolic act to show that I was innocent of the crime. It made no impression. Now at last I understood about all the suspicion at the nursing home. The evasive looks, the personal questions, about how I was doing, and if I was sleeping at night; and no, I wasn’t sleeping at night, I wasn’t sleeping a wink. I lay tossing in torment and misery.

Then we went to the car. Randers and his young henchman sat in the front, I sat behind them. I took nothing with me, after all I’d soon be back, of that much I was sure. There’d never been such a miscarriage of justice as this. I mean, the murder of Nelly Friis. The car rolled down the road. The police radio crackled a bit. After a few moments, Randers broke the silence.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, and squinted at me over his shoulder. His voice was friendly now, quite bereft of derision or triumph.

‘What am I thinking about?’ I gazed at the scene outside the window. ‘I’m thinking about the park near Lake Mester. I often go there. Have you ever been to it?’

He nodded.

‘Yup, I’ve been there,’ he said. ‘A long time ago. Pretty little park.’

‘Then you must have seen the statue at the entrance to the park,’ I said. ‘Right by the paved pathway. The one that’s called Woman Weeping .’

‘I have seen it,’ Randers replied. ‘Yes, it’s lovely.’ He nodded in agreement.

‘But there’s another statue,’ I explained. ‘Which stands at the other end of the park. Near the exit, on the path that leads down to the lake. That one’s called Woman Laughing . And it’s her I’m thinking about now.’

Randers chuckled from the front seat.

‘So you think she’s laughing at you?’ he enquired.

‘No,’ I countered. ‘She’s laughing at this entire situation. Because the whole thing’s so ridiculous, you can’t even begin to imagine how ridiculous!’

He made no answer to this. We travelled on in silence. I stared out of the car window, at the landscape, summery greens and yellows, and the ditches grey with exhaust fumes.

‘What are the remand cells like?’ I wanted to know. ‘Are they different from the more permanent cells?’

Randers replied over his shoulder. ‘A cell is a cell,’ he said. ‘You’ll soon find that out.’

‘What about clothes? Do I wear one of those orange-coloured penitentiary suits they have in America?’

‘It’s good you’ve got a sense of humour,’ Randers said. ‘You’ll need it.’

‘I’m pretty sure old Nelly died a natural death,’ I said. ‘Dr Fischer found her in her bed. We saw nothing unusual. So I can’t understand what happened. You may not like being wrong, Randers, but this time you are. My God, how wrong you are!’