No. He can’t do that! He wouldn’t get away with that and he knows it.
“Once I’d realized what the book was about, I did some research into you. It didn’t take me ten minutes to find out that you were Anna’s sister.”
He looks at me when he says Anna’s name, as if he were searching for her features in my face.
“I had to come,” Lenzen says simply.
“You wanted to know what evidence I had against you,” I say.
“I didn’t think you had any evidence against me. If you had, you’d have called the police. But I couldn’t be sure.”
He laughs his mirthless laugh.
“A nice little trap,” he says.
“You didn’t come unprepared.”
“Of course I didn’t. I have everything to lose — really, everything.”
I sense the threat contained in these words. I endure it. I wonder whether he’d reply if I asked him what happened that night.
“Where was the music coming from?” I ask instead. He knows at once what I mean.
“The first time, it came from a small mobile device in the photographer’s bag. The second time, from my other phone — the one not on the table.”
I should be getting worried that he’s so willing to answer all my questions, but I keep going.
“How did you get the photographer to play along?”
Lenzen raises the corner of his mouth, as if he’d like to smile but has forgotten how.
“He owed me a favor. A big favor. I sold him the whole thing as a harmless prank — the crazy author who never leaves the house freaks out a bit and we get a great story. Don’t think too badly of him. He wasn’t at all keen. But he had no choice in the end.”
I remember the frosty atmosphere between Lenzen and the photographer.
“Why did you do it in the first place?” I ask. “Why the whole show?”
Lenzen sighs and stares at the floor. He looks like a magician whose marked cards have just fallen out of his sleeve in full view of the audience.
“I had to play safe. So that you wouldn’t go to the police and send them after me.”
I see. Sowing doubt in my mind was a surefire way of getting me to keep silent — the nutty writer who never leaves the house — lonely, eccentric, unstable, almost completely cut off from society. I look at Lenzen, this grave, quiet man. No wonder I was taken in. Certain things I might have expected of him — lies, violence, denial at all costs, maybe even an attempt to kill me. But I’d never imagined him capable of this great show — walk-on parts and props and musical numbers and all. Masterly. Because who’d suss a thing like that? And who’d believe me if I told them?
“You tried to make me think I’d murdered my own sister,” I say, spitting out the words.
Lenzen ignores me.
“How did you know that I’d fall for it? How did you know that Anna and I didn’t always…”
I falter. The thought is incredibly painful.
“Anna told you about me,” I say.
Lenzen nods. It’s like a punch in the stomach.
“What did she say?”
“That you’d always quarreled, even as children — like fire and water, the two of you. That she thought you were selfish and was sick of your arty airs…That you had called her a smart aleck and — excuse me — a manipulative little slag.”
My mouth feels horribly dry.
“But even if Anna hadn’t told me all that,” Lenzen adds, “what sisters don’t hate each other, at least every now and then? And what survivor doesn’t feel pangs of guilt?”
He shrugs, as if to say it was almost too easy.
We’re silent for a moment. I try to put my thoughts in order and Lenzen wreathes himself in cigarette smoke.
Now I have to ask the question. I’ve been putting it off, because once he’s answered it, everything will have been said and I don’t know what will happen next.
“What happened that night?” I ask.
Lenzen smokes and says nothing. He’s silent for so long I’m afraid he’ll never answer. Then he stubs out his cigarette and looks at me.
“August 2002,” he says. “God, it’s a long time ago. Another life.”
I try not to nod. That summer twelve years ago. Anna still alive. Me engaged. Suddenly successful. Suddenly rich. My third book a bestseller. My parents’ silver wedding anniversary. The summer Ina and Björn got married — the party by the lake where we got drunk and went skinny-dipping with the newlyweds. Another life.
Lenzen takes a deep breath. My mobile, still in record mode, burns on my skin.
“Anna and I, we’d been…we’d known each other for about a year. I’d just become a father, and I’d just been made editor-in-chief. I had the feeling that I was somebody. There were envious people, sure — people who claimed I’d only got the job because I’d married into the family who owned the company. Voices who thought I was only after my wife’s money and clout. But I knew that wasn’t true. I was good at my job. And I loved my wife. I had found my niche in life. But then I go and fall head over heels with this young girl. It’s ridiculous, but these things happen. We kept our relationship secret, of course. She thought it was fun to begin with, and kind of exciting — forbidden love. I thought it was dangerous right from the start. A few times her boyfriend almost caught us. He knew something was up and he dumped her. She didn’t care. But it frightened me, because I was afraid we’d be found out. Only I couldn’t give her up. Not at first.”
He shakes his head.
“Idiotic, completely idiotic. And so banal. Such a cliché. Because, of course, the girl wants me to herself at some point — and, of course, I don’t want to leave my young family. We argue. Again and again. In the end, I tell her it’s over, that we’re not going to see each other anymore. But the girl’s used to getting her own way. She threatens me. She’s suddenly changed beyond all recognition, says things that should never be said to anyone.
“‘What if I go to your wife? Do you think she’d like to hear that you’re here with me while she’s sitting at home on her own, breast-feeding your ugly baby with her saggy tits?’
“I tell her to be quiet — that she knows nothing about my wife, about my marriage. But she isn’t quiet.
“‘I know all about your marriage, my love. I know that your dear father-in-law will kick your useless arse out of the door when he finds out that you’re cheating on his spoiled little girl. Do you really think you got that job because you’re so competent? Look at you! Standing there as if you were about to start blubbering, you ridiculous loser! I mean, really, you’re not my idea of leadership material.’
“And I tell her that she should shut up, but she carries on.
“‘Don’t think you can get rid of me. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll have nothing left. No wife, no job, no child. And don’t think I’m not serious. Don’t go thinking that!’
“I’m stunned. Rigid with fury. Almost blind. And she laughs.
“‘The way you’re looking at me, Victor! Like a dog in disgrace! Maybe I should call you Vicky from now on. That’s a lovely name for a dog, isn’t it? Come on, Vicky. Heel! Good doggy.’
“She laughs her naughty laugh — her boyish laugh that I’d fallen so desperately in love with, but that now makes me feel sick. She laughs and laughs; she won’t stop. She carries on until…”
Lenzen breaks off. He’s silent for a moment, caught up in his memories. I hold my breath.
“Family man stabs mistress,” he says at length. “That’s the kind of headline the papers run in these cases. Four words: Family man stabs mistress.”