The Drowned Boy (24 page)

“Let’s go out to eat tonight,” he said. “It’s so warm. I can’t bear slaving over a hot stove in this weather.” Carmen agreed. Her hands and feet were swollen and her head felt heavy. The beginning of a headache was whirring at her temples. He carried the boxes of books and papers out to the car and drove through the gate. Zita had put up a fence, which shone newly painted in the summer sun. A white fence now protected the old house. The pond was still there like a glittering black mirror, and it gnawed at her, making her irritable and annoyed. The whole thing had disrupted her orderly life. Damn, she thought, dammit! She calmed herself down and stroked her stomach. Life went on and she was in a good mood, even with the case pending. She was going to fight for her life. She would fight for her freedom with tooth and claw. Because she deserved it, at least that was how she saw it. She went out onto the step and waved. The dog jumped and danced beside her, barking happily into the clear air. Anders, she thought and smiled, my darling Anders. It’s the two of us now, and our baby will be healthy.

Then she went in again with a growing unease because she hadn’t looked to see what was in the boxes. She hadn’t checked to see what he was throwing out. And now it was too late; the car had already disappeared around the bend, and the papers would soon be thrown on a bonfire to burn. She decided to write a last diary entry. So she went back into the living room, pulled out the bottom drawer in the desk, and started to look through it frantically. And as she rummaged, she got more and more agitated and her cheeks flushed. Because that was where she always kept her diary.

MIDSUMMER’S EVE, EVENING
.

From here on in, the evenings and nights got longer and the days shorter. But for now, there was a beautiful light blue in the evening and a transparent dark at night, with fluttering, paper-thin moths dancing around the lights. The odd enthusiastic fly or an irritated wasp banged against the windowpane in search of something sweet.

It was the evening before the court case. Sejer drove up to Møller Church and wandered down the narrow paved path into the churchyard. His steps echoed in the stillness. Everything was green and growing, a promise of what lay in wait during summer’s lush fruitfulness. Long, light, happy days. He wandered around for a short while before going to Tommy and Nicolai’s graves, and then stood there for a moment as he mulled over what had happened. The sight of the two stones made him melancholy. In a way, they were together again, these two sorry souls, as they rested side by side. Both stones were covered in creeping ivy. If only I could find some irrefutable evidence, Sejer thought. Could she really have killed him with intent? As it stood, he needed proof. Something that he could lay on the table in court, something that was worth more than a feeling. From experience, he knew that his intuition was very well developed, and he had allowed himself to be guided many a time in situations where there was a glaring lack of technical evidence. If nothing else, it was an aid, a valuable supplement to knowledge. But he couldn’t convince the state prosecutor with a feeling. It was laughably easy to be miserable, he thought, but you have to fight for happiness. Perhaps that was precisely what Carmen Zita had done. Catastrophe had struck, but she simply clenched her teeth and denied it all. No matter what, she’d kept her head above water. He thought about the past year and processed it into something he could understand. He drew comfort from it as he stood there, deep in thought, in the middle of Møller churchyard, surrounded by the dead. Well, I can’t always have it my way. In this case, I’m not going to win. And I just have to accept the judgment, whatever it is. He steeled himself and then turned and went back to the car where Frank was lying in the back seat asleep, his wrinkled head on his paws. So, a quick walk at Stranda and then home. He started the car and swung out onto the road, his mind still caught up with tomorrow’s court case. He remembered Nicolai’s words from that last night. You mustn’t believe a word of what Carmen tells you.

Lots of people had gathered wood for the Midsummer bonfire, which was bigger than ever before. A huge collapsed tower down by the water, it was a glorious mix of old broken pallets, cardboard boxes, and wood. A bed base, a stool and a wooden chair, boxes, cartons, and old packaging. People had also rummaged around in search of hidden treasures. It was a great midden of garbage and junk. Soon the flames would be leaping and the smell of burning would sear people’s nostrils. Sparks would dance like shooting stars up into the dark blue night, while people stood around the fire with gleaming eyes and glowing cheeks. Sejer walked along the water, throwing a stick every now and then. Frank immediately scampered off to bring it back. After a while the dog got bored of this and started to investigate the bonfire. He sniffed around the pile of junk and eventually found his trophy for the day, a beautiful small notebook with a red cover. He carried it over to his master and dropped it at his feet, inordinately proud.

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to find all of the books in the Inspector Sejer series.

K
ARIN
F
OSSUM
has won numerous awards, including the Glass Key Award for the best Nordic crime novel, an honor shared with Henning Mankell and Jo Nesbø, and the
Los Angeles Times
Book Prize. Her highly acclaimed Inspector Sejer series has been published in more than thirty countries. She lives in Sylling, Norway.