Anxious People(73)

Julia smiled.

“You’re not on your own, you’ve got us. And this bank robber doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone, so I’m sure everything’s going to be all right. But… can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart.”

“Did you know there was going to be wine in that chest? If you didn’t, why did you decide to have a look?”

Estelle blushed. After a long pause, she confessed: “I usually hide wine in the closet at home. Knut used to think that was silly. I mean, he thinks it’s silly. But you assume people think the way you do yourself, so I was thinking that if the person living here was worried about people coming and seeing bottles of wine and thinking ‘Well, this person’s an alcoholic,’ then the closet would be the perfect place to hide the wine.”

Anna-Lena took another two gulps of wine, hiccupped loudly, and added: “Alcoholics don’t have unopened bottles of wine in the house. They have empty wine bottles.”

Estelle nodded at her gratefully, and replied without thinking: “That’s kind of you to say. Knut would have agreed with you.”

The old woman’s eyes were glistening, not only from the wine. Julia frowned so hard and so thoughtfully that she got a whole new hairstyle. She leaned forward, put her hand gently on Estelle’s arm, and whispered: “Estelle? Knut isn’t parking the car, is he?”

Estelle’s thin lips disappeared sadly beneath each other, so the word barely reached past them when she eventually admitted:

“No.”





55


Witness Interview

Date: December 30

Name of witness: Lennart





JACK: Let me see if I’ve got this right: you weren’t at the viewing as a prospective buyer, but had been hired by Anna-Lena to spoil it?

LENNART: Exactly. No Boundaries Lennart, that’s me. Would you like a business card? I do stag parties, too—if the guy getting married has stolen your girl, that sort of thing.

JACK: So that’s your job? To ruin apartment viewings?

LENNART: No, I’m an actor. There just aren’t many roles around at the moment. But I was in The Merchant from Venice at the local theater.

JACK: Of Venice.

LENNART: No, at the local theater here!

JACK: I meant that it’s called The Merchant of Venice. Not from Venice. Never mind. Can you tell me anything else about the bank robber?

LENNART: I don’t think so. I’ve told you everything I remember.

JACK: Okay. Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stay a little longer, in case we have any further questions.

LENNART: No problem!

JACK: Oh, yes, one last thing: What do you know about the fireworks?

LENNART: How do you mean?

JACK: The fireworks the perpetrator asked for.

LENNART: What about them?

JACK: Well, when someone takes other people hostage, it isn’t customary for the perpetrator to demand fireworks before letting them go. It’s more normal to demand money.

LENNART: With all due respect, it’s more normal not to take anyone hostage in the first place.

JACK: That’s as may be, but don’t you think fireworks is an odd demand? That was the last thing the perpetrator did before you were released.

LENNART: I don’t know. It’s New Year. And everyone likes fireworks, don’t they?

JACK: Dog owners don’t.

LENNART: Ah.

JACK: What do you mean by that?

LENNART: I was just surprised. I thought all police officers liked dogs.

JACK: I didn’t say I didn’t like dogs!

LENNART: Most people would have said that dogs don’t like fireworks. But you said dog owners.

JACK: I’m not particularly fond of animals.

LENNART: Sorry. A peril of the profession. You learn to read people in my job.

JACK: As an actor?

LENNART: No, the other. Are the others still here at the station, by the way?

JACK: Who?

LENNART: You know, the others who were in the apartment.

JACK: Are you thinking of anyone in particular?

LENNART: Zara. For instance.

JACK: For instance?

LENNART: There’s no need to look like I asked something improper. I mean, I’m only asking.

JACK: Yes. Zara’s still here. Why do you ask?

LENNART: Oh, just wondered. You get curious about people sometimes, that’s all, and she’s the first person in a long time who I haven’t been able to read at all. I tried, but I didn’t get her at all. Why are you laughing?

JACK: I’m not laughing.

LENNART: Yes you are!

JACK: Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Something my dad says, that’s all.

LENNART: What?

JACK: He says you end up marrying the one you don’t understand. Then you spend the rest of your life trying.





56


“Death, death, death,” Estelle thought in the closet. Many years ago she had read that her favorite author used to start telephone conversations with that. “Death, death, death.” Then, when that was out of the way, they could discuss other things. Otherwise, after a certain age, no phone call ever seemed to be about life, only the other. Estelle could understand that point of view these days. The same author once wrote that “you have to live your life in such a way that you become friends with death,” but Estelle found that harder. She remembered when she used to read bedtime stories to the children, and Peter Pan declaring: “To die will be an awfully big adventure.” Maybe for the person doing it, Estelle thought, but not for the one who was left behind. All that awaited her were a thousand sunrises where life is a beautiful prison. Her cheeks quivered, reminding her that she had grown old, her skin was so thin now that it moved the whole time in a breeze that nobody else could feel. She had nothing against old age, just loneliness. When she met Knut it wasn’t a love story, not the way she had read it could feel, theirs was always more like a story of a child finding the perfect playmate. When Knut touched Estelle, right up to the end, it made her feel like climbing trees and jumping from jetties. Most of all she missed making him laugh so hard he spat his breakfast out. That sort of thing only got more fun with age, especially after he got false teeth.