The Water's Edge - By Karin Fossum Page 0,48

Now she tore it down. She screamed and she demolished it and people could no longer mourn with dignity.

'Come on,' Sejer whispered to Skarre. 'We're leaving now.'

The men left quietly and inhaled the fresh September air outside. Again they heard the organ, now muted behind the closed doors. Skarre fished out a packet of cigarettes from his dark jacket.

'My hands are shaking,' he admitted. He managed to light a cigarette and inhaled deeply. 'And if you dare to mention God right now, I'll leave.'

Sejer shook his head. 'No, but there's something else I want to tell you.'

'What's that?'

'Did you notice the man sitting in the last pew? On his own, wearing a grey suit, sitting closest to the wall?'

'No. What about him?'

'That,' Konrad Sejer said, 'was Reinhardt Ris.'

CHAPTER 28

The sight of Reinhardt in his grey suit was so unexpected that Kristine did a double-take. It was five minutes past four and her shift at the Central Hospital had finished. The Rover rolled smoothly to a halt at the front entrance, and she looked at him sitting in his best suit, she saw the white collar and the wine-coloured tie.

'Why are you wearing a suit?' she asked. 'Where have you been?'

She got in and slammed the door shut. She folded her raspberry-red jacket and put it on her lap. Reinhardt eased the Rover past a stationary ambulance. An important smile played around his mouth, signalling that she would just have to rein in her curiosity.

'Didn't you go to work?' she asked.

He braked for a car coming from the right. He looks good, Kristine thought, he has long legs and broad shoulders and the suit fits him perfectly.

'Of course I've been to work,' he said, 'but I left early. I went to Jonas August's funeral.'

He speeded up as he turned out into the street. Kristine sat with her mouth hanging open. She could not believe her own ears. A myriad thoughts rushed through her head: he was nosy; or mad, even. A peeping Tom or, worse, a thief. Someone who stole other people's life experiences.

'I was curious,' he said calmly. 'I thought that a funeral of that kind would be different from any other funeral, and it was.'

'But you didn't know him,' she said. Again she felt outraged, as if he was some spoilt child she had to justify herself to.

'We found him,' he replied.

'Yes, but that doesn't mean we have to do anything, does it?'

'Perhaps not.' He hesitated. 'But it gives me certain rights, in my opinion. Think about it, sweetheart, we found him, we called the police, we waited, we answered their questions. We lay awake half the night.'

Kristine went over the recent events in her head. Next to her was a man who had finally discovered his purpose in life, a man who regarded other people's tragedies as entertainment, who thought that the murder of a child accorded him certain rights. This was the man she was married to, the man who had denied her what she longed for more than anything. She was bound to him until death did them part. She meant to keep that promise, but right now she needed to make a few demands of her own.

'Did you talk to her?' she asked.

'No, she was busy, so to speak.'

'Do you know what?' she continued, and she could no longer restrain herself. 'I would have understood you better if you had gone over to Jonas's mother, I mean after the service, and introduced yourself. If you had told her that it was you who found him. And that was why you were there. That would have been the mature, compassionate thing to do and it would have given her the explanation I think she is entitled to. But you sneak in just to get a cheap thrill from her tragedy and her grief.'

'I couldn't go over to her,' he said. 'I wanted to, of course, but it was impossible.'

'Why?'

His hands clenched the steering wheel. 'Because she started to scream. I've never heard anyone scream like that. I thought the stained-glass windows would shatter.'

Kristine gave him a shocked look. He was deathly serious now, as if the screaming woman had actually managed to upset his equilibrium. He increased his speed. She watched him out of the corner of her eye and it struck her that he would most probably never make a good father; he was too wrapped up in himself and his own affairs. This realisation made her feel uncomfortable and despondent. But I would make