she replied, “It’s on at quarter to five?”
She was sitting erect, with her arms hanging down at her sides and her eyes fixed on Irene’s face. She knew it was over.
Irene tried to appear unmoved, even though inside she felt as if a volcano was about to erupt.
“Why, Charlotte? Why? Tell me.”
“Richard . . . two weeks before he . . . died . . . I told him I was pregnant and that he was the father. At first he tried to wriggle out of it. He didn’t know who I’d been sleeping with, and stuff like that. But I actually hadn’t been with anyone else since July. So I insisted, and I read about this technique of determining paternity with . . . DNA. When I told him I wanted one of those tests, he backed down. He promised to give me money every month. I thought that sounded fair. But then this thing with the photos came up . . . those lying on the table. He asked if I knew anything about them, but I denied it. You see, he didn’t know that Bobo was the one who took them. Bobo contacted him anonymously, by telephone. But I think Richard suspected something. He didn’t want to see me.”
Charlotte’s hands were twisting and turning now, though she was unaware of it. Irene sat in silence, waiting for what she knew was coming.
“But then Henrik ended up getting the pictures instead. He showed them to me and . . . he was out of his mind! He recognized Richard and me. I told him everything. He didn’t say a word. Wouldn’t speak to me, and then he left for Marstrand on Friday afternoon. I thought it was great that he left. Right after that I noticed that Richard’s keys were gone from my handbag. On Saturday around three he came home. He didn’t say a word, just got ready for the party. We went to it. It was abominable. But Henrik put on a good act. All those old fossils.”
She stopped talking, looking angry. A thin film of sweat appeared on her skin. Her gaze was still fixed on Irene, but it was doubtful whether Charlotte saw her. Her voice was strained when she went on. “On Sunday Henrik was supposed to fly to London. Right before he left, Richard called about some auction catalog that Henrik had forgotten to give him. Then Henrik said to me, ‘You can take it over to him tomorrow, since you have a key!’ And then he left. So I did. I had to talk to Richard. But when I arrived on Monday, the cleaning woman and her daughter were there working. Richard had a slight cold and was home, taking it easy. But when I handed him the catalog he whispered to me to come back later, around seven. And I did. And stayed overnight.”
“Had you ever been together in the apartment on Molinsgatan on previous occasions?”
“No, never. And on Tuesday morning, as we were sitting, eating breakfast, that shithead says, ‘I think we’ve had enough fun with each other so it’s time we call it quits. We won’t meet anymore, but will go back to being daughter-in-law and father-in-law. And you can raise the child as my grandchild. Ha ha!’ He laughed at me! That fuck laughed at me! Right in my face! He was dumping me like an old slut! But I didn’t let on, just asked him what financial arrangements he contemplated. He said I’d get five thousand a month. Five thousand! That’s not enough for anything. I gave him a piece of my mind. He kept on laughing at me, but finally he said . . .”
She paused, stretched, and assumed an arrogant tone of voice to imitate Richard von Knecht. “I understand that you’re a little oversensitive right now. Let’s do it this way. Valle and I are going out for our Tuesday lunch today. If you clean the whole apartment so that Sylvia can’t see the slightest sign that you’ve been here, I’ll give you ten thousand kronor this afternoon. But that’s all you’ll get during the pregnancy. You won’t get the five thousand a month until after the delivery. We’re coming home around four o’clock. See that the apartment is ready in time, because Sylvia will be here between five-thirty and six.”
She slumped down again and spat out, “‘The delivery.’ As if I was some breeding sow. And I knew that he wouldn’t give