Ю Несбё - The Kingdom

‘Those parts there are no good,’ the last car breaker had said as he looked down at the rotten brake hoses and the frayed throttle cable I had unscrewed from two of his wrecks, a Chevy El Camino and a Cadillac Eldorado. Behind him hung a gaudy picture of a long-haired guy with a shepherd’s crook and a lot of sheep milling round him.

‘I guess that means I get them cheap,’ I said.

He closed one eye, gave me a price that made me realise you get Willumsens in other places too besides Os. I consoled myself with the thought that most of the money probably went to charity, handed over the hundreds and confirmed that I didn’t need any receipt.

I picked up the throttle cable and examined it. It wasn’t from a Cadillac DeVille, but it was so similar it would do. And sure enough, it was defective. Frayed so that, when fitted in the right way, it would catch when the driver put his foot down, and even if he took his foot off the pedal his speed would just keep on increasing. If he was a car mechanic he might perhaps realise what was happening, and if in addition to that he was quick and kept a cool head maybe turn off the ignition or put the car in neutral. But Carl wasn’t any of those things. He would, even supposing he had the time, simply try to brake.

I picked up the rotting, punctured brake hoses. I’d removed hoses like that before. Never fitted them. I put them down next to the throttle cable.

Any car mechanic examining the wreck afterwards would tell the police the parts hadn’t been sabotaged but showed signs of ordinary wear and tear, and that it was likely water had got in under the plastic collar on the accelerator cable.

I chucked the tools I would be needing into the bag, closed it and stood there, breathing heavily. It felt as though my chest was wrapping itself around my lungs.

I checked the clock. 10.15. I had good time.

According to Shannon, Carl was meeting the organisers of the party at the building site at two. After that they would be going down to Årtun to decorate the place. That would take at least two hours, probably three. Good. At the most I would need an hour to switch the parts.

And since there was no audit that gave me plenty of time.

Way too much time.

I crossed to the bed and lay down. Put my hand to the mattress where Shannon and I had lain. Looked at that licence plate from Barbados on the wall above the kitchen alcove. I’d done a bit of reading. There were over a hundred thousand vehicles on the island, a surprising number for such a small population. And the standard of living was high, the third highest in North America, they had money to spend. And everyone spoke English. It should definitely be possible to run a service station there. Or a repair shop.

I closed my eyes and turned the clock forward two years. I saw myself and Shannon on a beach with a toddler eighteen months old beneath a parasol. All three of us pale, Shannon and me with sunburnt legs. Redlegs.

I wound backwards and now we were just fourteen months into the future. The suitcases ready in the hall. A child wailing from the bedroom upstairs and Shannon’s comforting voice. Just details left now. Turn off the electricity and the water. Nail the shutters over the windows. Gathering up the last loose threads before leaving.

The loose threads.

I checked the time again.

It wasn’t important any more, but I didn’t like loose threads. Didn’t like rubbish in the pump area.

I should let it go. The other thing was what I had to concentrate on now. Keep your eyes on the prize , as Dad always said in his American English.

Rubbish in the pump area.

At eleven o’clock I stood up and went out.

‘Roy!’ said Stanley, rising to his feet behind the small desk in his surgery. Walked round and gave me a hug. ‘Did you have to wait long?’ he asked, with a nod towards the waiting room.

‘Only twenty minutes,’ I said. ‘Your receptionist slipped me in so I won’t take up much of your time.’

‘Sit down. Everything all right? How’s that finger?’

‘Everything’s fine. I’ve really only come to ask you something.’

‘Oh really?’

‘On New Year’s Eve, after I left for the village square, can you remember if Dan Krane left too? And if he had a car? And if maybe he didn’t show up at the square until a little later?’

Stanley shook his head.

‘What about Kurt Olsen?’

‘Why are you wondering about this, Roy?’

‘I’ll explain afterwards.’

‘OK. No, neither of them left. There was such a bloody wind and we were having such a good time that we carried on sitting there drinking and talking. Until we heard the fire engines.’

I nodded slowly. So much for that theory.

‘The only ones who left before midnight were you, Simon and Grete.’

‘But none of us were driving.’

‘No, Grete was driving – she said she’d promised her parents she’d be with them when the clock struck twelve.’

‘I see. And what kind of car does she drive?’

Stanley laughed. ‘You know me, Roy. I can’t tell one make of car from another. I just know that it’s fairly new and it’s red. Yes, actually, it’s an Audi I think.’

I nodded even more slowly.

Saw in my mind’s eye that red Audi A1 turning up towards Nergard on New Year’s Eve. Where the only other thing besides Nergard and Opgard is the hotel site.

‘Speaking of new,’ Stanley exclaimed. ‘I completely forgot to offer my congratulations.’

‘Congratulations?’ Automatically I thought of that third place on the earnings list; but then realised, of course, that news from the world of service stations is really only for the specially interested.

‘You’re going to be an uncle,’ he said.

A couple of seconds, and then Stanley laughed even louder.

‘You really are brothers! Carl reacted in exactly the same way. Went white as a sheet.’

I wasn’t aware that I had turned pale, but now it felt as though my heart had stopped beating too. I pulled myself together.

‘You were the one who examined Shannon?’

‘How many other doctors do you see here?’ said Stanley, spreading his arms out wide.

‘So you told Carl he was going to be a father?’

Stanley wrinkled his brow. ‘No, I’m assuming it was Shannon who did that. But Carl and I met in the shop and I congratulated him then and mentioned a couple of things Shannon should look out for as her pregnancy advances. And he turned pale, just like you are now. Understandable really, when people come up to you like that and remind you you’re going to be a dad, and all that frightening responsibility overwhelms you again. Didn’t know the same thing happened with uncles, but it looks like it does.’ He laughed again.

‘Have you told anyone else besides Carl and me?’ I asked.

‘No, I’m bound by professional confidentiality.’ He stopped abruptly. Put three fingers to his forehead. ‘Ouch. Maybe you didn’t know Shannon was pregnant? I just assumed that… since you and Carl are so close.’

‘They probably wanted to keep it to themselves until they feel fairly sure it’s going well,’ I said. ‘Given Shannon’s history of trying to get pregnant…’

‘Yes, but it was very unprofessional of me,’ said Stanley. He looked genuinely upset.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘If you don’t tell anyone, I won’t either.’

I was out of the door before Stanley could remind me that I was going to tell him why I’d asked about New Year’s Eve. Out of the surgery. Into the Volvo. Sat there, staring through the windscreen.

So Carl knew Shannon was pregnant. He knew, and he hadn’t confronted Shannon with it. Hadn’t told me either. Did that mean he knew he wasn’t the father? Did he realise what was going on? That it was me and Shannon against him. I pulled out my phone. Hesitated. Among other things, Shannon and I had planned everything in such detail so as to avoid having more phone contact than would otherwise seem natural between a brother-in-law and sister-in-law. According to True Crime , that’s the first thing the police check, who the victim’s closest relatives or other potential suspects have been in phone contact with at the time immediately preceding the murder. I made up my mind, tapped in the number.