Faithless, page 6
Inside the office the air was stale and reeked of old dust. Zahid sat down. He was plump, she could see now. His stomach rested against the desk. He seemed exhausted. The manicured beard and the combed-back hair no longer exuded the playboy look. A Rolex with a loose bracelet slipped down his forearm and met a gold chain with a barely audible clink.
‘Can you tell me about her?’ Lena asked.
On the wall hung a tyre-company calendar. It was still on February, five months out of date. A naked blonde with plaited hair and rouged cheeks was holding an aluminium wheel rim under her breasts. The lollipop in her mouth said it all.
Kadir breathed in and straightened up. ‘We were in the same class at school from the first to the ninth year.’ His eyes were shiny and his lips trembled when he spoke.
Lena didn’t buy the performance, but she said nothing.
‘Veronika was my idealised Norway, Lena. A friend, but not only a friend. She was my Bond girl. Imagine it yourself: the eighties, I was a foreigner, you know, a Paki. But Veronika was the most attractive girl in the school, and she was my best friend.’
‘Veronika was arrested and placed in custody after visiting you on Friday night. Why did she go and see you that night?’
‘I asked her to come over.’
‘Why?’
‘I needed some company.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘You.’
‘Me?’
‘Or the police, you’re there all the time, you don’t leave me in peace, don’t leave my family in peace. It’s impossible for me, this, you’re making my life a misery, mine, my mother’s and father’s, my sisters’ and my brothers’. You even hauled in Veronika. A guest. What was the point of that?’
Lena didn’t answer.
‘When we were younger it was Veronika I turned to when things got too much for me.’ Zahid’s face softened, as though he were remembering an amusing incident. ‘We used to sit together drinking tea in her room. We could sit there talking and laughing for hours. She made me see the comical side of everything.’ Zahid’s face darkened again. ‘That night I longed for that. So I rang her and she came over. As always,’ he added before Lena could say anything.
Again his eyes were shiny.
‘When she was arrested she was fined for possession of cocaine.’
He raised his head and eyed her suspiciously. ‘You know very well that I neither deal in nor use drugs. I’m a Muslim, Lena. I don’t drink wine, don’t drink beer, don’t drink spirits, I don’t smoke hash, I don’t mess my head up with clouds of intoxicating substances.’
‘What about Veronika?’
Kadir Zahid looked up at her. ‘Will you believe me if I answer your question?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Because the answer’s no. I knew Veronika. She might have had the odd glass of Campari or some trendy drink with a parasol at a party, but that was the extent of it. She never took any drugs. Do you believe me?’
‘You asked her to come to your place for a chat at half-past one at night. Couldn’t you have had a chat during the day?’
‘At work?’
‘You work, do you?’ Lena said sarcastically. ‘Here?’
She walked out of the office and did a round of the workshop. He followed her. She paused and studied the blockwork wall where more tyres were stacked high. She raised her arm and looked at her watch. ‘It’s pretty quiet here today. Have you given the boys the day off?’
‘You’re not listening,’ he countered. ‘I rang Veronika to have a chat at a difficult moment. It wasn’t a bloody consultation.’
He walked past her and through the entrance. There, in the sunshine, he stood looking at her. She walked towards him, but stopped in the doorway.
‘Were you in a relationship with Veronika?’
Zahid shook his head. ‘She was engaged to a guy who works for the council. She wanted to invite me to her wedding – even though the date hadn’t been set.’
‘So her fiancé knew about you?’
‘Naturally.’
‘What did you do last night?’
‘What do you think? I was at home. You shadow me all the time, Lena. I can’t walk a metre without having a cop on my tail. Check their reports and you’ll see I was at home.’
‘Alone?’
Kadir shook his head. ‘Two of my brothers were there.’
Standing in the doorway and watching Kadir, Lena had a sense he was play-acting. He hadn’t moved after he left the workshop, so they almost had to shout to each other. Why had he gone out? Did he want to lead her out? What had unsettled him? To provoke him, she took a couple of steps back into the workshop. Then she made a discovery, turned back to him and realised she was onto something. He was wary. Followed her movements with his eyes, like a fox from its lair. She smiled at him, but Kadir didn’t return the smile. Lena came out of the workshop. Pretended to be mulling over a smart question as she took some slow steps. Used her eyes and confirmed what she had seen inside. The workshop was narrower than the whole building. The building might have been twenty metres wide, but the workshop was fifteen, maximum. There were a few extra metres in the building, but there were no windows. And where were the gates and the forecourt to that part? Presumably at the back.
It didn’t have to mean anything, but there was something in the man’s body language that had alerted her. She spread an arm across the forecourt. ‘Looks like there must be lots of customers here during the day. Hard work, eh?’
‘You know as well as I do that the tyre business is seasonal. In the summer we might change a wheel for an occasional tourist with a puncture. Come here in October. The place is heaving then!’
No, she thought. He wasn’t as relaxed as he had been a few minutes before.
‘When did you last see Veronika?’
‘Saturday morning, when she left my place and you followed her taxi.’
‘Spoken to her since?’
Kadir shook his head.
‘Did you talk to her about any of her clients?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
She had to smile at his innocent expression. ‘You know what I mean. You know why we keep an eye on you. You’re a thief, Kadir. We believe you use people to find victims for your activities. We believe, for example, that you robbed an elderly lady in Malmøya last weekend, someone called Regine Haraldsen.’
‘It’s dishonourable stealing from old ladies,’ Zahid answered.
‘Regine Haraldsen was one of Veronika’s customers.’
Kadir Zahid said nothing.
‘Sure you didn’t speak to Veronika on the phone after she left on the Saturday?’
Kadir sighed. ‘Give up, Lena. I’ve neither seen nor spoken to Veronika since then. Tell me, does her mother know this? I’d like to offer her my condolences.’
‘Do you know her mother?’
‘Of course.’
‘She knows her daughter’s dead.’
Kadir rolled down the shutters with a clatter. He locked them and turned to her.
‘Anything else I can help you with, Lena?’
She walked towards Ståle and the car. Thinking: he’s still play-acting.
Once inside the Mustang, she noticed Zahid had put on sunglasses. The garish logo of Dolce & Gabbana flashed at the side of his head. He waved to her.
She waved back.
‘Don’t have time for this,’ Ståle said grumpily and started up the car. She raised her hand and stroked his arm.
‘Stop that,’ he responded, tetchily.
She realised he felt humiliated by being an extra on this assignment. But she couldn’t do anything about his feelings. ‘A tiny favour,’ she begged. ‘When you get onto the road please go right instead of left.’
He put the car into gear and obeyed.
She studied the building as they left. Correct: there was a shutter at the back, closed with a robust padlock.
‘Great,’ she said, sitting up. ‘Now you can drive back to town.’
10
It was past eleven in the evening when the Metro doors opened. Frank Frølich stumbled out. Fellow passengers hurried past him, with determined strides, eyes glued to the ground, their feet longing for home. The cool breeze in the evening air drove the temperature down to under twenty. At last it was pleasant to be outdoors.
He strolled down the street. As he cut across by the Esso petrol pumps a car hooted. There was someone sat behind the wheel in a parked black Volvo. A door opened. It was Karl Anders.
Frølich’s joy at seeing his friend again was muted by the state of him: listless eyes and a half-open mouth with the corners saliva-flecked. Karl Anders was good and drunk and making life difficult for himself.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to ring,’ Frølich said in a measured tone.
‘Have you got time for a chat?’
‘As long as you leave your car there.’
They walked side by side along Havreveien in silence. Nor in the lift on the way up did they say anything. Karl Anders avoided eye contact. His breath was sweet, sated with beer and sugary spirits.
The lift stopped. Frølich held it open for his friend, took out his keys and unlocked the front door.
The air in the flat was close after a long day’s baking sunshine through closed windows. He opened the terrace door to freshen the place. ‘Coffee?’ he asked with his back to Karl Anders.
‘Haven’t you got a beer?’
Frølich always had beer. There were two six-packs in the fridge. Lysholmer Ice – the cans stood in soldierly lines watching over the brown goat’s cheese, which reigned over the fridge, with no royal court or subjects.
He put the cans and two glasses on the table and slumped down onto the sofa. ‘I’ve tried to call you many times, texted you and asked you to ring me without any response. You weren’t at work either.’
Karl Anders didn’t answer. His eyes were swimming.
‘They had no idea where you were – the people at your workplace.’
Karl Anders drank and put down his can, still as silent.
‘First and foremost I’d like to offer my condolences,’ Frølich said, thinking that it was still an unpleasant word, but it was right to say it. The word brought them to the essence of this visit.
Karl Anders looked down at the floor. When he raised his head it was clear he had been struggling with himself. ‘Frankie … did you lock Veronika up for possession of cocaine?’
‘Who said that?’
‘Veronika.’
So she had confessed to her fiancé. Frølich sat for a few seconds deliberating how to carry on. ‘Karl Anders,’ he said.
Who reached out for the can again.
‘I’m working in a team trying to find out what happened to Veronika. I’m completely open to everyone in the group. I have to be. Several of the others know that you and I are pals. Everyone knows I was at your party. I’m completely open because murder feeds wild speculation, with everyone.’
Karl Anders said nothing.
‘Norway’s a little country in this world,’ Frølich went on. ‘If you go on a package trip to Kos or Cyprus, there’s a good chance you’ll meet a neighbour or his family. That’s how small the world is, and that’s how small Norway is. Veronika turned up in a case I was working on. I had no idea who she was when we met. I couldn’t have known that she was with you. I realised that only when I saw her at your party. I was shocked, but I had to be discreet.’
Karl Anders interrupted him: ‘What about the drugs?’
Frølich stared at him. In the end he said:
‘Veronika was fined for being in possession of drugs. After paying the fine the matter was done and dusted. No one else but Veronika needed to know about the case, so I’ve kept quiet about what happened.’
Frølich wasn’t sure if his friend was listening. He was still sitting in the same position, his expression vacant.
‘I can’t stop being a cop just because I know you.’
Karl Anders raised his head. They exchanged glances. Suddenly he didn’t seem to be drunk. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked in a sharp tone.
They held eye contact. Frølich didn’t know for sure, but he had a feeling they both had the same thought. It’s such a sore point, he thought, neither of us wants to say it straight out. Twenty years have passed and we are no further on.
Or was that really how it was? Wasn’t the situation completely different now? He represented officialdom while Karl Anders … he didn’t have the energy to complete the thought. Instead he said: ‘The police need to hear what you have to say. We have to know where you were when Veronika was killed, but you were nowhere to be found today. No problem – so long as no one else managed to locate you. People have been ringing you all day, on your mobile, at home, at work. As I said, Karl Anders – you’re a central figure in this case. Where have you been?’
‘I thought you’d got over it,’ Karl Anders said.
Frølich didn’t answer.
‘But you’re just the same. Just the fucking same.’
Frølich regarded his friend without speaking.
‘My bad luck that Veronika happened to bump into you on precisely that morning.’
Frølich looked down at his hands. They weren’t shaking. He told himself: He’s drunk, he’s lost the woman he loved – that’s why. He cleared his throat and repeated his original question: ‘Where have you been all day?’
Karl Anders smiled coolly. ‘You think it was me, don’t you.’
Frølich opened his can of beer and poured it into the glass. Glanced up. Same chilly smile on his friend’s face. Cold smile and staring eyes. There was nothing Frankie wanted more than to tear down the veil over the past and recall the moment. Confront his friend with what he actually thought, deep down.
Nevertheless, he refrained. He sipped his beer with his eyes trained on his friend. He had been longing to drop his shoulders this evening, sit in a heap and watch a bad film with lots of shooting, car chases and crazy dialogue. But Karl Anders had prolonged his working day and brought it home to his flat. He didn’t like the job of following him around.
He put down his glass.
‘Our relationship wasn’t as hot as you think,’ Karl Anders started. ‘I’ve got an ex,’ he continued, gazing into the air dreamily.
‘Who hasn’t?’ Frølich said, to keep the conversation moving.
‘I was with her.’
‘When?’
‘All the time.’
Frølich leaned back and realised that friends you had as a child stay in your mind the way they always were – even when you see them after an absence of many years. When he met Karl Anders at the party it was the teenager he had rediscovered: unconsciously he had thought his old friend was hiding in in a shell. He had seen inside it and thought he had found the mannerisms, the body language and the old glint in his friend’s eyes. But now he saw Karl Anders as he was, as an adult: an anonymous-looking man bordering on skinny. Short hair without a suggestion of grey. Hollow cheeks which, in his drunken state, gave the impression of a skull. A little gold ring in one ear, an attempt at a Mr Cool signature. Karl Anders even had a ring on his left thumb. And when he drank from the can his sleeve slipped down and revealed the end of a blue tattoo.
Frølich cleared his throat again and said:
‘Veronika was killed at some time between eleven and a little after midnight. Where were you?’
‘At home.’
‘Alone?’
‘She was with me.’
‘Who?’
‘The ex.’
Frølich could feel himself getting annoyed at the leaden pace of the conversation and deliberated. He said: ‘Well, the police will have to have a chat with her.’
Karl Anders turned his face towards him. Now the smile was crooked and sneering. ‘And you don’t think I killed Veronika?’
When he spoke, Frølich had to exert himself not to lose his temper: ‘I don’t think anything. The police don’t think anything. We’re setting out the jigsaw, finding out what happened. Charting what Veronika did in the time before she was killed – hour by hour, minute by minute. The person who killed Veronika was in the same place as her. Those who were elsewhere are not under suspicion. Simple as that. If you say you were with your ex, you weren’t with Veronika. But for the police to believe you, they will need her to confirm your alibi.’
‘Veronika and I had a row – well, about the cocaine. She told me after all the guests had left the party. It was five o’clock in the morning when she told me. We’d never rowed like that before. You don’t need to ask. I didn’t hit her. I didn’t touch her. All that happened was that suddenly I understood things. There were sides of Veronika I didn’t know, do you see, Frankie? You realise your girlfriend plays games! I thought, what the hell. Are we going to get married? Am I going to get married to a woman I don’t know?’
‘What kind of games?’
Karl Anders took another sip of his beer. ‘Don’t know. Game is perhaps the wrong word, but what you see is a different person standing there. You wonder what’s going on. The following day I dreaded talking to her. I thought that if she isn’t at home when I call, if she doesn’t answer the phone, what the hell is she doing? And if I ask, she’ll probably lie to my face again!’
‘Again?’
‘Hm?’
‘You said lie to your face again. Has she lied before?’
Karl Anders didn’t answer. The silence continued, and Frølich said:
‘She insisted it wasn’t her cocaine and she didn’t know how it had ended up in her bag. And you know what,’ Frølich said, trying to make eye contact with his friend, ‘I believed her. I think the surprise she showed when I found the cocaine in her bag was genuine. But it wasn’t me who took the decision. My bosses concluded she’d broken the law. She was fined, and that was that as far as she was concerned.’
Karl Anders was unmoved. He looked away, silent.
‘How did you find out about the murder?’ Frølich asked.
Karl Anders took his time to answer. ‘Her mother,’ he said at length. ‘She rang me at work.’
‘So you were at work? I also tried to ring you at work.’
