Åke Edwardson - Never End

Winter took off his shirt and pants.

"Here we go again," said Vennerhag, as Winter dove into the pool. It wasn't the first time he'd been swimming there.

Vennerhag stood up when Winter surfaced, walked to the side of the pool, and handed over the bottle of beer. Water ran down Winter's face from his hair, which was plastered flat against his scalp.

"Illegal clubs are sensitive things," Vennerhag said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not the type to spill the beans about that kind of thing. I think it's a legitimate activity that satisfies the needs of nice ordinary people."

"Bullshit."

"It would do you good to go to one of those places every now and then, Erik."

"What would do me good right now is a Corps," said Winter, squinting up at the sun.

"Shall I get you one from your shirt pocket?"

"There aren't any there. I quit."

"That was rash of you."

"They don't import them anymore," Winter said.

"There are other brands."

"So I'm told."

"Think about what your job entails." Vennerhag made as if to protect himself. "You don't want to be turning violent again and trying to strangle somebody or anything like that."

It wouldn't have been the first time.

Winter heaved himself up onto the side of the pool.

"A place that was in business five years ago."

"Hmm."

"At least five years ago."

"Why an illegal club? Have you checked out the rest of the pleasure places in town? The legal ones?"

"We are."

"Did you bring the photos you were going on about?"

"Yes."

"Can I see them?"

"All in good time."

"Oh, yes?"

"What have you got to say, Benny?"

"About unlicensed clubs five years ago?"

"That are still in business."

"I don't think there are any."

"Think? Or know?"

"Think. I think," Vennerhag said, with a little laugh. He turned to look at Winter. "I know what this is all about. I want to help."

"Good for you, Benny."

"Murder isn't my field, you know."

"I know."

"Neither is rape."

"Glad to hear it."

"If we can put that bastard behind bars, I'll be the first to start clapping."

"We'll be the ones to put him behind bars. You're not involved in that."

"I did say 'we.' "

"I'll go and get the pictures," said Winter.

"Nice wall," said Vennerhag.

Winter nodded.

"The girls look nice. This is terrible." He looked at Winter. "Fucking terrible."

Winter nodded again.

"I've never seen this place before," said Vennerhag. "It's unusual to have exposed brickwork like that indoors."

"Find out what your business contacts have to say."

"I'll need these photos for that."

"You have them in your hand."

"Are these my copies, then?"

"Yes."

"Is that allowed?"

"Who cares?"

"OK," said Vennerhag, putting the photographs down on the grass.

"How long will you need?" Winter asked.

"No idea. But if this place is in town, somebody should recognize it."

"Good."

"That wall is pretty eye-catching."

Winter nodded.

Vennerhag stood up and went back to his lounger. Winter went back to his chair as well, draining the last of his beer on the way.

"Another?"

Winter shook his head.

"A cigarillo?" asked Vennerhag, lighting a Mercator and grinning through the smoke.

Winter shook his head. Then leaned forward, took hold of the pack in Vennerhag's hand, and picked up the lighter from the ground next to Vennerhag's big, pale left foot.

"You're shaking," said Vennerhag as Winter lit the cigarillo.

He inhaled and savored it.

"You're just as bad as us," said Vennerhag.

"You mean we. Not us."

"Oh, it's we now is it? It was different a minute ago."

Winter said nothing, simply inhaled and made the most of the effects of the poison. Just this one, to remind me of how awful it is to be addicted.

Vennerhag watched him.

"Have the activities of unlicensed clubs changed over the last few years?" Winter asked after a while.

"Dunno. Not my field, like I said."

Winter took another puff, and watched the smoke climb up toward the blue sky. Not a cloud in sight, not a single one. The sun was more white than yellow. Later it would turn orange, along with the sky. That meant that the sun would rise again tomorrow and the sky would be blue again and there wouldn't be a cloud in sight.

"What do you mean by that, anyway?" said Vennerhag, turning to look at Winter again.

"Just something that crossed my mind. If they've taken over from the sex clubs, for instance."

"Well, that's even further from my-"

"Not your field. Yes, I know."

"Could be, though."

"Hmm."

Vennerhag puffed at his Mercator.

"Now that you mention it, it occurs to me that there may have been a few places with… er… that sort of menu over the last few years."

"Menu? You mean sex?"

"I mean adult entertainment."

"I see."

"A few places, mebbe. I'll have to check."

"I'll call you this afternoon."

"Tonight. Make it tonight."

Vennerhag reached for the photographs again and took another look, one at a time.

"So, you think this is some little club, operating on the sly, is that it?"

"I think that's it, yes."

"In that case, what were these little girls doing there?"

"Working."

"Working? Your imagination is worse than mine, Erik."

"Imagination's not your field, Benny."

"You're a pessimistic bastard." He looked again at the photographs, then at Winter. "As for me, I think the best of everybody."

"Maybe those girls did as well," said Winter, nodding at the photographs in Vennerhag's right hand.

"And that's why they were working at an illegal club with extra-illegal activities in the form of… extra services."

"I don't know."

"You're on the wrong track."

"Then help me get on the right one," said Winter, standing up and putting his shirt back on.

Halders met the boy at a locationchosen by the boy himself. There was a splash of sun across the rocks. The sails out there were white. The sea beyond the harbor sank down into blackness. Halders felt as if he were operating on automatic pilot. He'd hugged his children when they went to school, and waved to them from the car. Magda had played hopscotch, just once, then disappeared into the school building.

Mattias squinted up at the sun. Halders aped him.

"Day after day," he said.

Mattias watched a yacht heading for the open sea, and turned to Halders.

"A record summer," he said. "A fantastic summer."

Halders raised the peak of his cap a hair, and scratched his forehead, which was roasting despite the protection.

"What are you making of all this?" Halders asked.

"The summer, you mean? I'm working, I told you that."

"Besides that."

"Nothing."

"But it's a fantastic summer."

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

"Fed up?"

"Eh?"

"Are you feeling depressed, Mattias?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You seem depressed."

"You don't seem all that cheerful yourself."

"That's true."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Well, then."

"Have you spoken to her again?" Halders asked.

"Not since the last time," said Mattias, and seemed to be smiling at his answer.

"You know what I'm getting at."

"Not since the rape," Mattias said. "Not with him there."

"Him? Who are you talking about?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Tell me. Who?"

"Her father," Mattias said, gazing out at the horizon, where several ships were falling over the edge.

"I take it you don't like him."

The boy mumbled something, and stared out to sea. His nose was peeling. His hair is like straw, Halders thought. There was a time one summer when my hair was like that. He ran his hand over what remained of his close-cropped hair. He could see Jeanette Bielke's father in his mind's eye. Kurt Bielke. A comfortable chair on the verandah. Jeanette was never there. Jeanette was usually in her room, occasionally in the garden. Never on the verandah.