The Black Path (8 page)

“Tomorrow!” groaned Anna-Maria. “I was just on my way home.”

“Go home then.”

“I can’t go home. I need to speak to him. About Inna Wattrang and her role in the company and so on. I don’t know a damned thing about Kallis Mining. He’ll think we’re idiots.”

“Rebecka Martinsson is in court tomorrow, so she’s bound to be in her office. Ask her to read up about Kallis Mining and give you a half-hour summary first thing in the morning.”

“Oh no, I can’t ask her. She…”

Anna-Maria broke off briefly. She was going to say that Rebecka Martinsson had a life too, but then again…People said she lived out in the country all on her own, and didn’t socialize with anybody.

“…she needs her sleep just like anybody else,” she said instead. “I can’t ask her.”

“Okay.”

Anna-Maria thought about Robert, waiting at home.

“Or can I?”

Alf Björnfot laughed.

“Well, I’m going to park myself in front of
Six Feet Under,
” he said.

“That’s another thing,” said Anna-Maria, feeling rebellious.

She finished her conversation with the prosecutor and looked out the window. Yes, Rebecka Martinsson’s car was still in the parking lot.

Three minutes later, Anna-Maria Mella was knocking on the door of Rebecka Martinsson’s office.

“Look, I know you’re really busy,” she started off. “And this isn’t your job. So it’s perfectly okay if you want to say no…”

She looked at the pile of documents on Rebecka’s desk.

“Forget it,” she said. “You’re up to your eyes in work.”

“What is it?” said Rebecka. “If it’s to do with Inna Wattrang, just ask. It’s…”

She broke off.

“I was going to say ‘it’s cool working on a murder,’” she went on, “but that’s not what I meant.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Anna-Maria. “I know exactly what you mean. There’s something special about a murder investigation. I absolutely don’t want one single person to be murdered. But if they are, then I really want to be involved in solving it.”

Rebecka Martinsson looked relieved.

“That’s what I used to dream about once upon a time, when I decided to join the police,” said Anna-Maria. “Perhaps you did too, when you took up a career in law?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I moved from Kiruna and started studying because I’d fallen out with my church. The fact that I went in for law was more or less chance. Then I worked hard and the jobs just came along. I kind of slipped into things. I don’t think I ever made a real choice until I moved back here.”

They had quickly got close to a serious topic of conversation. But they didn’t know each other well enough to carry on along that particular route. So they stopped, and neither spoke for a little while.

But Rebecka noticed gratefully that the silence didn’t feel awkward.

“So,” said Rebecka at last, with a little smile. “What did you want to ask me?”

Anna-Maria smiled back. There had always been a kind of tension between her and Rebecka Martinsson for some reason. She hadn’t really given it much thought, but sometimes it occurred to her that you weren’t necessarily close to another person just because you’d saved their life. But all of a sudden it felt as if that tension had flown out the window.

“Inna Wattrang’s boss, Mauri Kallis, is coming up here tomorrow,” she said.

Rebecka whistled.

“It’s true,” Anna-Maria went on. “And I have to talk to him, but I don’t know anything about the company or what Inna Wattrang’s job involved.”

“There must be loads of stuff on the Net.”

“Exactly,” said Anna-Maria, with a pained expression.

She hated reading. Swedish and math had been her worst subjects in school. She’d only just scraped the grades she needed to get into the police training college.

“I understand,” said Rebecka. “You’ll have a summary in the morning. Let’s say eight-thirty, because I’m in court all day and they start at nine.”

“Are you sure?” said Anna-Maria. “It’s a lot of work.”

“But that’s my thing,” said Rebecka. “Turning a great big pile of rubbish into a two-page summary.”

“And then you’re in court all day. Have you finished preparing for that?”

Rebecka grinned.

“Now you’re starting to feel guilty,” she teased. “First of all you want me to do you a favor. Now you want absolution as well.”

“Forget it,” said Anna-Maria. “I’d rather have a guilty conscience than do all that reading. And it’s one of those company things too…”

“Mmm, Kallis Mining’s an international company. Not a group as such, you could call it a sphere. But I’ll explain the company structure as well, it isn’t that complicated really.”

“Yeah, right! As soon as you say company and group and sphere I come out in hives. But I really appreciate your doing this. And I’ll think about you as I’m flopping down on the sofa in front of the TV this evening. But seriously—shall I go and get you a pizza or something? I assume you’re staying here?”

“I’m going home, I have every intention of flopping down in front of the TV as well. I’ll get this done first.”

“Who are you? Superwoman?”

“That’s right. Off you go now, home to the TV. Haven’t you got lots of children to kiss good night as well?”

“Mmm, the eldest two don’t kiss Mummy any longer. And the little girl only kisses Daddy.”

“But there’s your youngest.”

“Gustav. He’s three. Oh yes, he wants to kiss his old mummy.”

Rebecka smiled. It was a warm, kind smile with a fleeting hint of sorrow. It made her look softer.

I feel sorry for her, thought Anna-Maria a while later as she was on her way home in the car. She’s gone through a lot.

She felt a pang of conscience over talking about her children; Rebecka had none.

But what can I do? she defended herself. They’re a huge part of my life. If mentioning them is taboo, it’s going to be impossible to chat.

Robert had put everything away, and even wiped the kitchen table. She warmed up fish fingers and mashed potato in the microwave and drank a glass of red wine to go with it. Enjoyed the fact that the mash was homemade, with real potatoes. Felt that she had the best life anybody could possibly wish for.

T
hat’s right, thought Rebecka Martinsson as she got out of her car outside the house in Kurravaara. I am in fact Superwoman. I was one of the best lawyers in Sweden. On the way, at any rate. Although you mustn’t say that to anybody. Or even think it about yourself.

She’d downloaded material on Kallis Mining from the Net to her laptop. It would actually be quite good fun, she thought. A change from the constant traffic offenses and theft and abuse cases.

The moonlight shone like silver, painted onto the shining crust of snow. And above the silver the blue shadows of the trees. The river was sleeping beneath the ice.

She placed a woolen blanket over the windshield and tucked it inside the front doors so she wouldn’t have to scrape the ice off it the next morning.

There were lights shining in the windows of the gray cottage that had once belonged to her grandmother. You could almost imagine there was somebody in there waiting for her, but it was just that she’d left the light on herself.

They were here once, she thought. Daddy and Grandmother. I
had everything then. And that’s more than a lot of people have. Some never have it.

She stood there leaning against the car. Grief overwhelmed her. As if it were some creature that had been lying in wait for her, waiting for her to get out of the car. That’s how it always was. She was always completely unprepared.

Why can’t I be happy? she thought. Happy that I had them for as long as I did. Nothing is forever. God, it’s so long ago. You can’t grieve forever. There really is something wrong with me.

The therapist’s words echoed in her ears:
Perhaps you’ve never grieved properly. Perhaps it’s time.

She was glad she’d given up seeing the therapist. But she missed the Cipramil, perhaps she shouldn’t have come off it. Thoughts of this kind had been easier when she was on medication. The most difficult feelings never quite made it to the surface, somehow. It had been nice not to feel as fragile as an eggshell.

She pulled off one glove and felt beneath her eyes; no, she wasn’t crying. It was just her breathing. As if she’d been running really fast. Bitterly cold air in her lungs.

Just calm down, she told herself. Calm down. Don’t go running across to Sivving and Bella, they can’t help you.

She thought of going in, but remained standing there, unsure if she was about to lock the car, if she had a bag somewhere, and what the key in her hand was for.

It’ll pass, she said to herself. You’re not to lie down in the snow. It always passes.

But not this time, said a voice inside her. This time the darkness is coming.

It was the car key she had in her hand. She locked the door. She managed to pick up her laptop and her Mulberry briefcase, they were by her feet. She walked over to the house.

On the way up the steps she grabbed a fistful of snow from the railings and pushed it into her face. The key to the house is in the bag. Put it in the lock. Turn it. Take the key out. Open the door.

She was inside.

Half an hour later she felt much better. She’d lit the fire, and she heard it suddenly catch as the chimney drew and the wood began to crackle.

A cup of tea with milk. The laptop on her knee on the sofa.

She tried to think all the thoughts she’d had in her head before the attack. She felt absolutely fine. She couldn’t bring back the difficult feelings even if she tried.

And she did try. Played her highest card. Her mother was allowed to take shape inside her head.

But nothing in particular happened. Rebecka could see her in front of her. The pale gray eyes, face powder that smelled good, nice hair, white, even teeth.

When she got the sheepskin coat, thought Rebecka, with a crooked smile at the memory. The villagers ground their teeth and wondered who the hell she thought she was. A fur coat, for goodness’ sake.

What on earth had she actually seen in Rebecka’s father? Maybe she thought a safe harbor was what she longed for. But she was never made for that. Her mother should have hoisted every single ragged sail and set off into the storm with her hair flying. The harbor life wasn’t for her.

Rebecka tried to remember how things had been when her mother left the family.

Daddy moved back to Grandmother’s in Kurravaara. He lived on the ground floor and I lived upstairs with Grandmother, running up and down between the two of them. And Jussi. He was a clever dog. As soon as I moved in he saw his chance of improving his sleeping arrangements. He lay down on the end of my bed. Grandmother didn’t allow the dogs on the furniture. But what could she do? The child slept soundly with the dog on the bed, lying there chattering to him while Grandmother took care of the milking in the evening.

Mummy made the beds on the trains, and moved up to work in the restaurant car. She swapped our three-room apartment in town for one with two rooms. I must have stayed there with her sometimes even before Daddy died, but I don’t remember it at all.

And those memories you do have, thought Rebecka. Do they really help? It’s just a few pictures in an album in your head, after all. In between those scenes you do remember there are hundreds, thousands, of scenes you’ve forgotten. So are you remembering the truth?

Grandmother in Mummy’s little apartment. She’s wearing her best coat, but Mummy is still ashamed, thinks Grandmother ought to buy a new one, she’s told Rebecka that. However, now it’s Mummy’s turn to feel ashamed. Grandmother is looking around. From where she’s standing, you can see right into the bedroom. Mummy’s bed is unmade. There are no bedclothes on Rebecka’s bed. Mummy is exhausted all the time. She’s phoned in sick to work. In the past Grandmother has turned up and cleaned the whole place. Washed the dishes, done the laundry, done the cooking. Not this time.

“I’m taking the girl with me,” she says.

Her voice is friendly, but there is no contradicting her.

Mummy doesn’t protest, but when Rebecka tries to give her a hug to say goodbye, she pushes her away.

“Hurry up now,” she says without looking at Rebecka. “Grandmother hasn’t got all day.”

Rebecka can see her own feet on the way down the staircase. Thud, thud. Her feet are heavy. Big as blocks of stone. She should have whispered in Mummy’s ear: “I love you the best.” Sometimes that helps. She collects good things to say. “You’re just the way a mummy ought to be.” “Katti’s mummy smells sweaty.” Look at her for a long time, then say: “You’re so lovely.”

I’ll ask Sivving to tell me, thought Rebecka. He knew them both. Before I know it, he’ll be gone as well, and then there’ll be nobody left to ask.

She opened up the computer. Inna Wattrang in yet another group picture. This time wearing a helmet and standing in front of a zinc mine in Chile.

Peculiar job, thought Rebecka. Getting to know dead people.

M
ONDAY
M
ARCH
17, 2005

R
ebecka Martinsson met Anna-Maria Mella and Sven-Erik Stålnacke in the conference room at the police station at eight-thirty on Monday morning.

“How did it go?” said Anna-Maria by way of greeting. “Did you manage to watch TV last night?”

“No,” said Rebecka. “How about you?”

“No, I fell asleep,” said Anna-Maria.

In fact, she and Robert had done something completely different in front of the television, but that was nothing to do with anybody else.

“Me too,” lied Rebecka.

She’d sat up and gone through the Kallis Mining group and Inna Wattrang until half past two in the morning. When the alarm on her cell phone rang at six, she’d felt that familiar faint nausea that comes with too little sleep.