Карин Фоссум - Hell Fire

Mass plumped down on her knees and pressed the trowel into the ground with considerable force. Earth, she thought, darkness. In a few years, only bones left. Eddie lifted the blue flowers out of the box and held them up to his nose; they smelled sweet. When the plants were in place, Mass stood up with her hands on the small of her aching back. Even though she wasn’t in front of a mirror, she knew she was pale.

“There’s no way that’s just from cleaning,” Eddie said.

Mass gave a brave smile. Then they went back to the car. They fastened their seat belts and drove home. Mass’s head was teeming. She knew she didn’t have much time and there was so much to be done while she still had the energy.

Sejer and Skarre told Henny Hayden about the red car that had been observed near the crime scene. She had already read about it in the papers, which she pored over every day now.

“Do you know if anyone in Bonnie’s circle of friends and acquaintances drove a red car?”

“I’m afraid not,” she replied. “And in any case, I really don’t think it’s anyone who was close to Bonnie. Goodness, who would it be?”

“Well, we’ll see,” Sejer said. “We’ll keep you updated.”

“So you think the red car is a clue?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“But no one saw who was sitting inside?”

“Yes, there was one sighting, when the driver got out of the car. And there’s something about the man that interests us.”

“What’s that then?”

“The way he was dressed made him stand out. And he was seen walking down toward Skarven.”

“You mean on the day they died?”

“Yes, and around the same time.”

“But tell us how you are,” Skarre said in a concerned tone. “Do you have good friends who can support you?”

“Yes, I have some very good friends. But I can’t face talking to them at the moment, so I haven’t been in touch. And they don’t know what to say to me; they can hardly look at me. When I bump into them in the store they look the other way and try to avoid me.”

“You mustn’t underestimate them.”

“I don’t, I just can’t face it!”

“And what about Henrik, how is he?” Sejer inquired.

“We’re losing him more and more,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

There wasn’t much the two men could do to comfort her. So instead they asked some more questions about Bonnie because they realized that it was her daughter she wanted to talk about.

Did she have any particular interests in the period before she died? Did she mention anything unusual, anything that made you think? Or was she worried about anything?

“No, nothing. And if there was, she didn’t say anything to me. She was often worried about Simon because he was such a nervous child. She was concerned for the old people that she looked after every day. And for her father.”

“And what about the people we’ve already spoken to,” Skarre asked, “for example, her ex-partner, Olav? You haven’t remembered anything that might be of interest? She took the breakup very badly and could hardly bear to see him.”

“That’s just the way Bonnie was. When she got attached to someone, it was till death do us part.”

Sejer noted her use of the words “till death do us part.”

“She had been betrayed once before,” Henny told them. “But she was only a teenager then. It was her first boyfriend and she was over the moon. She stood in front of the mirror all the time and we weren’t used to that. But then, he finished it. And she was devastated, inconsolable.”

“Did you know him?”

“No, she never brought him home. I thought that perhaps it was because Henrik was so strict. He thought she was far too young to have a boyfriend. Sometimes I got the feeling that he was just waiting for it to be over, and then he could relax again. You know what fathers are like.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Jørgen.”

“Did he ever contact her again?”

“Not that I know of. He simply disappeared into the big blue. Just like Olav.”

Sejer suddenly thought of something. “She was a teenager when she developed anorexia,” he said. “Did you ever connect that with the breakup? With Jørgen?”

“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. But at the time we were just relieved that she’d managed to get over it without any lasting damage and started to eat again. We fretted that she might not be able to have children because the doctors had spoken to us about that. You know, because of the illness. Malnourishment. But then after some years, she had Simon. Sometimes having a child can give us new life.”

One day, Bonnie Hayden received a letter. She stood by the mailbox and studied it because she didn’t often get letters and this was fortunately not a bill — at least, she didn’t think it was. She felt immediate relief. It was a rather fancy yellow envelope, and on the bottom left-hand corner it said in blue script “Falck Law Firm.”

Lawyers? She did a double take. She had no idea what lawyers might want with her. For some reason, it made her feel uneasy. She went back to the steps where Simon was waiting, unlocked the door, and went in. She put the letter down on the kitchen table. At first she wanted to rip it open, but then she got nervous. There was something ominous about a letter from a law firm. Why did they want to get in touch with her? She sat down in a chair and looked at the envelope in her hands. Simon was standing in the doorway watching her.

“Do we have to pay more money?” he asked anxiously.

“I don’t know,” was her curt reply.

“Open it.”

“Later. Let’s have something to eat first.”

She put the letter on top of the fridge and started to make supper. After they had eaten, they cleared the table and settled down on the sofa. Bonnie held the letter up to the light, as close as she could to the bulb, in an attempt to read the message. But the writing inside the envelope remained unintelligible black scribbles. Eventually she tore open the envelope and read the letter.

With reference to the death of Erna Margrethe Vibe on March 17 this year, and her signed and attested will, you are requested to attend our offices at your earliest possible convenience. Please call to make an appointment.

Yours sincerely,

The full address and business hours were given at the bottom.

Bonnie lowered the letter into her lap. It was certainly unexpected. But Erna’s will, what could that mean? She had only worked for her — they weren’t related. She was struck by an amusing thought: perhaps she had inherited something, some coffee cups or silverware. If it’s silverware, I’ll sell it right away, she thought with a smile. Simon saw his mother smiling. It was time for her to read him a bedtime story.

That night, Bonnie lay awake thinking about Erna. She had sometimes wondered if the old woman actually belonged in a mental hospital of some kind, what with the socks on the furniture legs. Whatever the case, she had children and they would be her legal heirs. When she eventually fell asleep, she dreamed about Alex, whom she had grown so fond of in such a short time. And she was getting pretty good at chess. She hadn’t managed to beat him yet, but she had promised herself that one fine day she would.

The Falck offices were in Engene. Bonnie stood outside and looked in through the arched windows. She was wearing her good clothes and smelled of Chanel No. 5. The doors were made from oak and had heavy brass doorknobs. When she entered the waiting room, she walked across the thick carpet and sat down in a nice leather chair. There were paintings and diplomas on the walls and several healthy-looking plants in the windows. She had been thinking of Erna all day. She wasn’t the first client she had lost, but she had been one of the most difficult — the one she always dreaded going to most. As she sat there and waited, she started to feel ashamed. What did she know about getting old? She might become an old battle-ax herself when the time came. If it ever does, she thought, because not everyone lives to be that old. She took a box of IFA lozenges out of her bag and popped one in her mouth. When Christian Falck opened his door, she was amused to see that he looked a bit like the man on the IFA box, the opera singer Ivar F. Andersen. He might break into an aria at any moment. He seemed like a nice man, tall and dark and well dressed. He was a good deal older than she was. She crossed the thick carpet again, her sandals sinking into the deep pile. It felt like she was swaying. She shook his hand and followed him into a very grand office. She had never seen such a desk or such beautiful leather chairs; they were black with dark wood. On the desk, a green lamp gave off a soft glow.