Part 37 (1/2)

Yes. And if the case proceeds I shall have to call you in to make a formal statement, which you will be asked to sign. Are you aware of all this?

Yes. I am.

Dorte might have noticed Ibens hesitation. You also know that perjury carries a prison sentence?

But I havent said that I know for sure that Anne-Lise was there. All Ive said is that I heard a womans voice. Maybe. And that maybe it was her voice.

The look on Dortes face gets to Iben. Iben is aware that shes acting in a way that coming from someone else, and at some other time would annoy her more than anyone.

Dorte speaks calmly: Now, you must think carefully about what you did and didnt hear. Take your time. She waits, rolling her pen between thumb and index finger.

Ive said before Im not absolutely sure.

Dorte puts her notebook away. Tell you what. Just for now, I wont make this a priority.

She straightens up and starts to open the car door. Its time for Iben to get out of the car again.

Rasmuss parents have arranged for the funeral to take place in six days. Most of his belongings are already packed, which makes things easier. His parents pay off his student loans and Malene takes over what he owes on his Illum credit card. She is allowed to keep the pieces of furniture she and Rasmus bought together. Legally his parents and his brother have a right to claim all Rasmuss possessions, but they let Malene hold on to what she wants from their life together.

No one mentions Rasmuss new girlfriend.

Others are also alert to Malenes needs. Iben talks to her on the phone every night and goes to see her often. She also helps Malene with the many practical issues that she must now deal with. It is her chance to prove to Malene that she is a loyal and reliable friend. Ever since Kenya, when she failed to reply to Malenes phone calls and e-mails, Iben has been unable to convince Malene that she would never abandon her.

Iben finds grief has made Malene less attractive. She has lost weight, maybe more than five pounds, and because she was already so thin, her sharpened features make her look older. Not that it seems to matter to men. Malene still turns as many heads as ever when she walks down the street with Iben at her side.

Gunnar offers to help Malene as well. Before he heard about Rasmuss death Gunnar had left a message on Ibens answering machine: Hi. This is Gunnar. Good to see you the other night. It was a terrific evening A pause. When Iben played back his message for the third time, she decided he must have worked out what to say, only to change his mind and improvise something else instead. His voice sounded a little flat at first, as if he had rehea.r.s.ed what he was saying. Im sitting here reading an article in the Guardian that reminded me of what you said about the lack of political awareness in American literature. Its an interesting article, but not as interesting as what you said.

During this last sentence his tone became a little livelier. When Iben listened for the last time, she thought it sounded as if he was faintly amused.

Did you notice theres a poetry reading by Inger Christensen this Thursday? Sh.e.l.l read some of her early work. Would you like to go? Anyway, you know my number.

Iben cant call Gunnar now. She comforts herself by switching off the machine so that new messages wont record over his voice.

It is barely a week after the funeral when Iben and Malene set out for IKEA to look for a new dining table. Even though its a weekday and they have left the DCIG early, the huge furniture halls are crowded with happy-looking young couples, talking loudly about their future. Many of the women are pregnant and just as many of the men are carrying babies in carriers fastened around their bellies.

Malene doesnt cry, but she is very tense. She examines one of the cheapest tables. It will be some time before she can afford good furniture again. The trouble is that she doesnt really feel like living with any of the cheap IKEA tables. Iben feels Malene probably doesnt want any of the more expensive tables either.

She pats a small birch-wood table for 789 kroner. Once the flaps are up itll look a little like your old one.

Malene isnt paying attention.

Iben cant help thinking: What will this table look like when it falls from the fourth floor? Will the corner crack, or the legs come off? Will the top split?

The model rooms along the back wall are not only furnished but also warmly, invitingly lit and carefully decorated with posters in striking colors. There are books on the shelves and plastic models of food ready to be eaten. But the cozy Swedish style extends only about ten feet up. Overhead is a span of concrete beams some fifty feet long. Iben looks up at the colossal air-conditioning units suspended by thin cables from the industrial ceiling. She wonders how much one of these units might weigh. If one of them fell, would it crush a person underneath? Bend him double?

While Iben thinks, she holds on to another flimsy-looking table in white Formica and steel tubing.

It occurs to her: If someone were after us, wed be easy targets now, walking close together, our attention on things like tabletops, designs, heights, and widths.

Malenes voice breaks into her thoughts: You know, regardless of whether Anne-Lise poured the oil on the floor or not, he would still be alive if it wasnt for her.

Iben knows whats coming next. Its not the first time shes heard it.

Hed never have wanted to move in the first place if I hadnt felt so worn out all the time. You know, by Anne-Lises Rasmus always wanted a low-maintenance woman with no problems. I knew that perfectly well. Instead I it was me who ruined our life together. But it was Anne-Lises fault. I was always beat after an eight-hour day with her. And I had to explain to Rasmus. I had to. Didnt I?

Iben has heard all this before and has stopped listening.

If Anne-Lise hadnt started her warfare it makes me so angry. Its weird. Youve never experienced anger like this, Iben; you dont know what its like. And theres nothing I can do. Nothing at all.

When Malene returned to the office for the first time after Rasmuss death, Anne-Lise expressed her sympathy. She seemed so convincing when she opened her eyes wide and said, How dreadful it must be for you. Its the worst thing that could happen. The thing we all fear the most.

Paul had told Malene to take as much time off as she needed, but every day off was another day for Anne-Lise to dig her claws into the Centers users. And if the merger happens, Anne-Lises close a.s.sociation with them and therefore with the board will matter when the time comes to decide who should be fired.

The work on the Turkey issue carries on, although Iben and Anne-Lises collaboration is, of course, strained. Still, Iben has to admit that Anne-Lise isnt completely useless when it comes to newspaper research. She seems to know not to interfere with Ibens writing and editing. Also its surprisingly helpful when she uses her librarians skill to check data and chase articles and author names in the databases of foreign libraries. During the last couple of weeks Iben has come to realize that it was rash of her to jump to the conclusion that it was Anne-Lise who murdered Rasmus. So much might have happened on the staircase that day.

Malene and Iben give up on finding the right dining table. In IKEAs restaurant they buy the traditional Swedish dish of meatb.a.l.l.s in cream sauce, with potatoes and cranberry jam on the side. They buy themselves gla.s.ses of wine as well. While Iben eats, Malene again expounds on what a wonderful man Rasmus was and how miserably wrong her own behavior was. She doesnt touch her food.

Its like holding a blowtorch in your hand and not knowing what to direct it at. You have no idea what its like to be this furious.

She fiddles with the food on her plate, pus.h.i.+ng sauce and potatoes and cranberries from side to side with small, picky movements. I tell you one thing. Now Anne-Lise will soon learn what its like when I cant stand someone!

Iben doesnt reply.

chapter 38.

iben knew the garden would be large, but not this large.

Its three oclock in the morning. She is walking in the tall, wet gra.s.s in the winter moonlight. The trees, bushes, and hedges do not look black, but somehow its difficult to distinguish the many shades of green and brown that are visible during the day. The only color she can see clearly is the bright red branches of a bush.

The tall, old-fas.h.i.+oned villa at the far end of the garden is also red.

She doesnt feel the cold as she slowly makes her way to stand under one of the old fruit trees. She has on her thickest jacket with the hood up. Above her she can see bare branches and, here and there, an apple silhouetted against the dark sky.

The villa is dark too. No one is up at this time of night along this suburban road. And no one is likely to be awake enough to cycle, as Iben has just done, all the way from Nrrebro to Vaserne, north of Holte.

If a light goes on anywhere in the house, Iben can get away long before they come outside to investigate who is roaming around in their garden. But why should anyone discover her?

She moves closer to the house, walks around it, and peers through the dark windows of the ground floor, trying to make out what is in the rooms. As always, the knife is strapped to her s.h.i.+n, even though she fears Anne-Lise least of all.

Iben should cycle back home after peeking through all the windows on the ground floor. The whole excursion seems a complete waste of time. She cant think what she hoped to find.

A week has pa.s.sed since she realized that her suspicions about Anne-Lise murdering Rasmus were stress-related. Its different for Malene. She wont be able to move on until she has a clear picture of what happened. Iben came here tonight more for Malenes sake than for her own.

If only she could find something that would help Malene. Then maybe Malene could finally put it behind her how Iben owes her for getting her the job at the Center.

She looks up at the second floor again. Dark, no signs of life.