Bad Intentions (3 page)

"If I owned an orchard, you could get a job as a scarecrow," Axel quipped.

Reilly did not react.

It was all right with him if Axel thought he looked like a scarecrow, he was not bothered. Besides, he was angry. He kicked the earth, sending sand and soil flying around his legs. Jon, he thought, Jon my man, Jon my mate.

"Don't take me down with you," Axel said. "I'm no villain and neither are you. You need to learn to look toward the future and you need to learn to assert yourself."

He gestured forcefully. "Breathe out," he said. "And keep moving. Be a shark, for God's sake."

Reilly did not reply. There was not much to say and it was fine that Axel was doing all the talking.

They had reached an old, rotten fence.

"Something's hanging on the fence," Axel said. "An old swimsuit. Do you see it?"

"It's moldy," Reilly said. "Leave it alone."

"A swimsuit," Axel repeated.

It was yellow with black stripes. He snatched it and pulled at the elastic material.

"It's a wasp costume," he said.

He kept pulling at the swimsuit.

"Can you imagine it, Reilly? A giant wasp cruising around the beach, scaring the living daylights out of everyone."

"Jon is dead," Reilly said. "Stop messing around. We're not kids anymore. What is wrong with you?"

Axel returned the swimsuit to the fence.

"You can cry," he said, "or you can play ball and save your life."

Axel Frimann walked on. Whether you were male or female he was undeniably a joy to watch. His supple limbs were perfectly coordinated, his arms swung from his shoulders and his hips controlled his legs. He moved forward with flexibility and elegance, at once lazy and purposeful. Reilly followed at a distance, his hair fluttering in the wind, his coattails flapping like a sail. His head did not know what his legs were doing, and he scrambled down the path as if someone had put boots on a bundle of logs.

Axel started listing the good intentions which had motivated them originally. What had followed was bad luck, pure and simple, and beyond their control. In a moment of weakness they had been tricked by one of nature's whims.

Axel talks and talks, Reilly thought. I've never had any goals or a purpose, but I've never hurt anyone. Now I don't know what to believe anymore.

Axel placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Repeat is the biggest advertising agency in Norway," he said. "I earn 750,000 kroner a year. I've waited for a job like this my whole life and no one is going to take it away from me."

Reilly threw open his arms as though he was hanging from a crucifix.

"This will never end," he objected. "We'll have to live with it for the rest of our lives. And I don't know if I can manage that."

"You can," Axel said. "Because you're not an old woman like Jon."

Reilly was a man of peace, but he saw red. He ran back to the cabin and stormed into the kitchen to check on the kitten. It was still breathing.

T
HE CARS WERE PARKED
diagonally in a row on the grassy bank by the cabin. The sun was higher now and reflected in the windshields. The fire brigade had turned up with two divers and an orange rubber dinghy on a trailer, the Red Cross with a dog and a search and rescue team. The dog was an Alsatian, sturdy and shaggy with black, intelligent eyes. The police had sent two men. Konrad Sejer was an inspector, and he had a striking presence. He was tall and slim with thick gray hair and lined features. Jacob Skarre was considerably younger with blond curls. The grass was teeming with men and women and Axel went to meet them. He was a man overcome by grief and anxiety, his voice carried on the wind. You could detect traces of anguish and vulnerability in it. Reilly studied the performance. He was impressed, but he had seen it before. Axel could put on a good show and it cost him nothing.

"We got up at nine and discovered that he was gone," he said. "It was a shock. He was in such a bad way."

The inspector shook his hand. The handshake made Axel Frimann gasp.

"You've looked for him?" Sejer asked.

Axel nodded. "We walked across the sheep fields and we called out for him. But all we found was an old swimsuit and it can't be Jon's. But we're more worried about the lake."

He pointed in the direction of Dead Water.

Reilly stayed silent. It felt strange to hear these lies. As though they had pushed Jon out of the boat and were now covering up their crime. He examined Sejer and Skarre. Their names when spoken in the same breath sounded like a hedge trimmer, he thought. Even though they were face to face with the law and lying through their teeth, all he could think about was the kitten in the cake tin. It baffled him. It had taken root in his heart. It had attached itself there with its claws. I need to get high, he thought.

"Which one of you called the hospital?" Sejer asked.

"I did," Axel said. "I called the ward."

"He had been given permission?"

"Until Sunday evening. We're old friends. We picked him up yesterday afternoon. We thought the change might do him good."

Skarre took a step forward.

"Do you happen to know the name of his doctor?"

Axel and Reilly looked at each other. "Now what was it?"

"Wigert," Axel said. "Hanna Wigert."

Skarre noted it down. He seemed bright and energetic, or as Axel would have put it, eager to please. He raised his eyes toward the black lake.

"He might have gone for a walk," he said calmly. "A walk in the woods can do you good when it all gets too much."

There was something about his eyes, something critical, which signaled that he would not allow himself to be deceived and
would not automatically believe what they told him. Reilly grew nervous. The hedge trimmer could come down on them at any moment.

"We've been up since nine," Axel said. "He would not have gone far on his own. He scares easily."

"Does he have a cell phone?" Skarre asked.

"It's inside," Axel said, "and that's weird. That he didn't put it in his pocket, because he always does."

Skarre turned to the divers who were leaning against the rescue vehicle.

"All right," he called out. "Let's get started."

He fixed his glance on Reilly.

"Were you drinking last night?"

Reilly shrugged. "We had a little wine. Jon was the first to go to bed, but he wasn't drunk, if that's what you were thinking."

"I don't think anything," Skarre said.

Then, having considered this for a moment, he asked: "Are you missing anything?"

"What do you mean?" Axel frowned.

"Is anything missing?" Skarre explained. "Did Jon Moreno take anything with him?"

"We haven't noticed anything missing," Axel said.

Skarre issued instructions to the emergency team and the divers started carrying their equipment down to the lake. Skarre himself joined Sejer in the cabin. Reilly followed. He went to the kitchen and lifted the kitten out of the cake tin. His hands were the size of plates. You could eat porridge out of them, Axel used to say. The kitten was lying there, curled up.

"Where did you find it?" Sejer said.

"In the forest," Reilly said. "The other kittens were dead. So was their mother. I brought it inside. There are foxes around here."

"Yes," Sejer said. "They need to eat too."

"It's not food," Reilly said gruffly.

They sat down in front of the fireplace. Sejer wanted to know their names, dates of birth and where they worked. If they often came to this cabin at Dead Water, and why it was called Dead Water, did they know? Did they have a map of the area? No, Axel replied. He mostly asked questions about Jon. About how long they had known him. If he was depressed, if he had indicated that he might want to end it all. They said he had been quiet the whole evening, a little introverted, as though he was struggling with difficult issues. He pops anti-anxiety pills all the time, Axel explained.

"What's he scared of?" Sejer asked.

Axel was momentarily wrong-footed.

"This anxiety of his is complicated," he said, "because we don't know all the things that he worried about."

"He was scared, but you never asked him what he was scared of?"

Axel and Reilly looked at each other.

"I don't think you quite understand anxiety," Axel began.

"Yes," Sejer said, "I do. And I expect old friends to know one another. His pills, where are they? Did he take them with him?"

Reilly looked up from the kitten.

"He always keeps them in his pocket. Never goes anywhere without those pills. Not that they do him much good, in my opinion. Jon trembles like an old man. Like this."

He held up his hand to demonstrate.

Sejer picked up a Nokia cell phone lying on top of a pile of newspapers.

"Jon's phone?"

The sight of the phone made Reilly nervous. He got the feeling they had overlooked something. Perhaps it has to do with truth, he thought, it has its own quality which you cannot emulate, its own pure tone.

"So what do you think?" Sejer wanted to know.

"Well," Axel said, "we fear the worst. That he might have jumped into the lake. Last night. While we were sleeping."

"Why would he have done that?"

"He was hospitalized. In a psychiatric ward."

"Is that a reason?"

Axel smiled patronizingly. "You probably don't understand what I mean," he said.

"Can he swim?" Skarre asked.

"No," Axel said. "Jon can't swim."

The search and rescue team was moving toward the lake.

Reilly followed Sejer and Skarre with his eyes. They acted as if they owned the place. The cabin, the grassy bank and the lake. There was something very organized about them, a sense of purpose which made him feel uneasy.

Sejer looked at the green boat, then across the lake.

"How deep is it?" he asked.

"Don't know," Axel said.

"Have you touched the boat?"

"No."

Sejer squatted down. "I'm asking because I can see that someone has moved it," he said. "It used to lie higher up, there are marks in the grass."

We did not see those, Reilly thought, because it was dark. We did not even think about them. That's it, we're going to get caught.

Sejer wandered up and down the shore; Skarre walked alongside him. They conferred quietly with each other.

"This is the only place you can wade into the water," Sejer observed. "If Jon walked into the lake, then this is where he did it. The rocks on the other side look inaccessible. Or what do you think?"

"How do you get up into the mountains?" Skarre asked.

"From the other side," Reilly explained. "It's a long way. And it's very steep."

He closed his mouth. It was best to shut up and let the police draw their conclusions in peace. When the whole miserable business came to light one day, they would just have to deal with it then. Sejer talked to the divers and agreed on an approximate point where Jon might lie.

"If he's in the water at all. There are other possibilities," Sejer said.

The rubber dinghy was launched and the divers waded into the water. The Red Cross team would search the forest area around the lake. Abel the Alsatian strained on his leash, keen to get going. The divers were now some distance out and one of them had gone under with a powerful flashlight. When their work was well under way and the search party had disappeared into the sheep fields, Sejer asked to see where Jon had been sleeping. They returned to the cabin. Axel opened the door to the smallest bedroom. The room was almost bare, with red gingham curtains, a small bedside table and a paraffin lamp. On the wall hung a photo of the King and Queen of Norway. Axel pointed to the sleeping bag. It was green with orange lining and lay in a messy heap on the foam mattress. A blue nylon bag was leaning against the wall.

"Is that Jon's bag?"

They nodded.

"What time did he go to bed?"

"It was around midnight. Or what do you think, Reilly?"

"Midnight," Reilly mumbled.

"You said he was quiet last night? That he was quieter than usual?" Sejer asked.

"He was very depressed," Axel explained, "and has been for a long time: that was why he had been admitted to Ladegården. Jon is a worrier, he can't handle very much. We should not have let him sleep on his own," he added. "I don't know what we were thinking."

A flash of anguish crossed his face. He is in control of every single muscle, Reilly thought.

"Do you know why he fell ill?" Skarre asked.

They shook their heads.

"People get ill," Axel said. "It happens."

"Did it happen suddenly?"

"I suppose it was gradual."

"And when did it start?"

Reilly felt like giving up right there and then. They would want to know everything. They would talk to Jon's mother and his friends, the staff at the hospital and his colleagues at Siba Computers, where he had worked over the past year, and everyone would add a piece to the puzzle. All the police would have to do was put them together.

I need to get high, he thought.

"It started last winter," Axel said.

He had decided to tell the truth as far as possible. Other people would remember that was when it had started. It was a question of being one step ahead.

"He was having trouble sleeping. It must have been around Christmas. He lost weight. He was off sick from work. In spring it got worse; eventually he couldn't manage even the simplest things and he spent the whole summer in bed. We went to visit him a couple of times, but he turned his face to the wall and wouldn't talk to us. He was admitted four weeks ago. We've been so worried," Axel said, "and we don't know what's happened, but we fear the worst."

"Let's not meet trouble halfway," Sejer said.

"It usually works out all right," Skarre said.

***

Four hours later they found the body of Jon Moreno.

The rubber dinghy was pulled ashore and the search in the forest was called off. The Alsatian padded over the grass, alert, its ears pricked up. Axel and Reilly went down to the lake to see Jon, Axel with the solemnity befitting a man in mourning, Reilly with downcast eyes and trembling hands.