“Eva Marie,” Sejer said softly.
“Yes, Eva. What? D’you know my Eva? Is it possible?” He was rocking slightly, as if he were anxious about something.
“Yes, a little bit, by chance. Her pictures are good,” Sejer added quickly. “People are a bit slow on the uptake. Just wait, she’ll come into her own, you’ll see.” He rubbed his jaw in disbelief. “So, you’re Eva Magnus’s father?”
“Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Certainly not,” Sejer said. “Tell me, Liland wouldn’t be her middle name or anything like that?”
“No. She’s just called Magnus. And she certainly hasn’t the money to buy another car. She’s divorced now, lives alone with little roly-poly Emma. My only grandchild.”
Sejer rose, ignoring the old man’s astonished look, and pushed his face right up to the painting on the wall. He examined the signature. E. M. Magnus. The letters were sharp and inclined, they were a bit like old-fashioned runes, he thought, and looked down at the note. Liland. Precisely the same letters. One didn’t even need a handwriting expert to see that. He drew breath.
“You’ve every reason to be proud of your daughter. I just had to look into this note. So you don’t know the handwriting?” he asked again.
The old man didn’t answer. He pursed his lips as if suddenly afraid.
Sejer put the note back into his pocket. “I won’t disturb you any longer. I can see this is a mistake.”
“Disturb? You must be mad, how often do you think someone like me gets a visitor?”
“It’s quite possible I may pop around again,” he said as lightly as he could. He walked slowly to the front door so that the old man could follow him out. He halted at the top of the steps and stared across the fields. He could hardly believe that he’d run across the name Eva Magnus yet again. As if she had a finger in every pie. It was strange.
“Your name’s Sejer,” the old man said suddenly. “It’s Danish, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you grow up in Haukervika?”
“I did,” he said, surprised.
“I think I remember you. A thin little lad forever scratching himself.”
“I still do. Where did you live?”
“In that rambling green place behind the sports ground. Eva loved that house. You’ve grown since I last saw you!”
Sejer nodded slowly. “I suppose I must have.”
“But what have we got here?” He peered at the back seat and caught sight of the dog.
“My dog.”
“Good lord, quite a size.”
“Yes, he certainly is a big boy.”
“What’s his name?”
“Kollberg.”
“Huh? What a name! Well, well, you’ve got your reasons, no doubt. But I think you could have brought him in.”
“I don’t as a rule. Not everybody likes it.”
“But I do. I had one myself, years ago. A Doberman. She was a bitch, and I called her Dibah. But her real name was Kyrkjebakkens Farah Dibah. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?”
“Yes.”
He got into the Peugeot and turned on the engine. Things will be heating up for you now, Eva, he thought, because in a couple of minutes you’ll have your old dad on the line, and that’ll give you something to think about. He was annoyed that there was always someone around who could phone and warn her!
“Drive slowly through the fields,” Larsgård admonished, “lots of animals running back and forth across the road.”
“I always drive slowly. She’s an old car.”
“Not as old as me.”
Larsgård waved after him as he drove off.
14
Eva stood with the phone in her hand.
He’d found the note. After six months he’d found the note.
The police had handwriting experts, they could find out who’d written it, but first they had to have something to compare it with, and then they could study each little loop, the joins and circles, dots and dashes, a unique pattern which revealed the writer, with every characteristic and neurotic tendency, perhaps even sex and age. They went to college and studied all this, it was a science.
It wouldn’t take Sejer many minutes to drive from her father’s place to her own house. She hadn’t much time. She dropped the receiver with a clatter and steadied herself a moment against the wall. Then as if in a daze she went to the hall and took her coat from the peg. She laid it on the dining table with her bag and a packet of cigarettes. She sprinted to the bathroom, packed her toothbrush and some toothpaste in a bag, threw in a hairbrush and the packet of paracetamol. She ran into the bedroom and grabbed some clothes out of the wardrobe, underwear, T-shirts, and socks. Every now and again she checked the time; she made her way into the kitchen and opened the freezer, found a packet marked “Bacon” and dropped it in her bag, ran back into the living room and switched off the lights, checked that the windows were properly fastened. It had only taken a few minutes, so she stood in the middle of the room and looked around one last time. She didn’t know where she’d go, only that she had to get away. Emma could live with Jostein. She liked it there, perhaps she’d really prefer to be there anyway. This realization almost paralyzed her completely. But she couldn’t give way to sobs now; she went into the hall, put on her coat, slung the bag on her shoulder, and opened the door. There was a man outside on the steps, staring at her. She’d never seen him before in her life.
Sejer drove out of the tunnel, his brow deeply furrowed.
“Kollberg,” he said, “this is really odd.”
He put on his sunglasses. “I wonder why we always come back to this woman. What on earth is she up to?”
He stared down at the town, which was dirty and gray after the winter. “The old chap certainly hasn’t got anything to do with it, he must be eighty if he’s a day, possibly more. But what the hell would an erudite artist like her want with a clod of a brewery worker? He certainly had no money. By the way, are you hungry?”
“Woof!”
“Yes, me too. But we must get to Engelstad first. Afterwards we’ll enjoy ourselves, stop at 7-Eleven on our way home. A pork chop for me and some dry biscuits for you.”
Kollberg whined.
“Only pulling your leg! Two pork chops and a beer for each of us.”
The dog lay down again, happy. He didn’t understand a word of the conversation, but he liked the sound of his master’s voice when he said the final bit.
15
Eva stared open-mouthed at the stranger. Behind him was a blue Saab, she didn’t recognize that either.
“Sorry,” she stammered, “I thought you were someone else.”
“Oh yes? Why did you think that, Eva?”
She blinked uncertainly. Then she was filled with a horrible suspicion. It struck her mind like lightning, her face stiffened and felt like thick paper. After six months the note had turned up, she didn’t know where from. After six months he was at her door, the man she’d been waiting for. She thought he’d given up. He mounted the last couple of steps and leaned with one arm on the door frame. She could feel his breath.
“Know what I found recently? When I was clearing out Maja’s things? I found a painting. Quite an exciting painting as a matter of fact, with your name in one corner. I hadn’t thought of that. She mentioned you the evening she rang, that she’d met you in town. It was that evening, you know — the evening before she died. An old childhood friend, she said. The kind you swap all your secrets with.”
His voice sounded as if it emanated from a reptile, it was rough and hoarse.
“You shouldn’t leave your paintings around like that with a signature and everything. I cleared out some furniture to sell, and there it was. I’ve been looking for you, I’ve been looking for six months. It wasn’t easy, there are so many Evas. What happened, Eva, was the temptation too great? She told you about the money, eh, and then you killed her?”