Read Online Bad Intentions by Karin Fossum - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karin Fossum
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seed. She was not with the other mourners. She stood to one side with Melis on her arm. Reilly could see it was struggling to be let loose. She must have left the dog in the car while they had been inside the church, he thought, and now that it was all over, she had gone to get it. It really was very shaggy. It reminded him of one of those mops you use to wash floors.
He stared ahead once more, at the vicar's back, and rediscovered his rhythm. They did not have far to go now, he could see the black grave and the sight of it made him feel weak. For the second time he sensed movement and he realized Melis must have jumped down from Molly's arm. The terrier raced toward them and everything happened incredibly quickly. Overjoyed at seeing him again it latched on to Reilly's trouser leg with great determination. The terrier got hold of the cord running through the drawstring hem of his trouser leg. Reilly tried to shake his foot loose, but in the process he shifted the coffin's center of
gravity, and the broken rhythm spread to the other pallbearers. Axel, on the left-hand side, got into trouble and the cousin and the two colleagues from Siba Computers shifted from foot to foot to maintain their balance. Tony Moreno ended up squatting. He squeezed the brass handle so hard his hand grew white from lack of circulation. A hush of fear went through the mourners. All six men staggered hopelessly back and forth as the little dog yanked and tugged at Reilly's trousers. The mourners at the rear stopped, some clasped their mouths and others clutched their chests. Molly started shouting and the coffin began to slide forward. A violent struggle followed to keep it in position, but the disaster was inevitable. Jon's coffin sloped mercilessly toward the ground. A corner of it hit the slate-covered path with a crack. The flowers skidded off and arranged themselves in a heap at the feet of the vicar, a sea of roses, lilies and white ribbons. With love. From all of us.
Melis let go and rushed quick as lightning back into Molly's arms. The men lifted up the coffin again. One corner of it was damaged: the jagged wood glowed bright, but no one said a word. Later Reilly remembered that Tony Moreno made the sign of the cross.
The wake was held in the church hall.
Tony Moreno appeared in the doorway. He stared at the buzzing crowd, then hesitated before he turned around and left. People looked after him as he hurried off, a small man in a crumpled suit. Axel told funny stories, Ingerid cried, but she had to laugh, too, because he was a great storyteller, and even better at making things up, Reilly thought. After all, he had played a part in most of the incidents Axel described and he barely recognized them. In Axel's embellished version everything was wilder and madder.
It did Ingerid good to laugh, the color returned to her cheeks. After they had been chatting for a while, she remembered something important. Her bag was on the floor, and now she dipped into it to show them something. Her hand brought out a book. Its cover was made from coarse red fabric.
"Look what Hanna Wigert gave to me," she said. "It was in a drawer in Jon's room. It's a diary. He wrote a diary all the time he was at Ladegården."
Axel gave her a baffled look. Reilly felt a blow to his stomach. A diary. Goddamn it.
"Hanna wanted to give it to me personally," Ingerid said.
Axel nodded. He was gripping the edge of the table. Ingerid put the book back in her bag and clicked it shut.
"I will copy Jon," she said. "I'll put it in my desk drawer. One day, when I'm feeling very brave, I'll read it. Jon may not have wanted me to—after all, a diary is a private thing—but I might find some answers."
Axel finally leapt into action. You could see him preparing for an attack. He drew his chair closer, leaned forward over the table and placed a hand on her arm. It was golden against her white skin, a strong, tanned hand with clearly visible veins.
"Think twice before you read
He stared ahead once more, at the vicar's back, and rediscovered his rhythm. They did not have far to go now, he could see the black grave and the sight of it made him feel weak. For the second time he sensed movement and he realized Melis must have jumped down from Molly's arm. The terrier raced toward them and everything happened incredibly quickly. Overjoyed at seeing him again it latched on to Reilly's trouser leg with great determination. The terrier got hold of the cord running through the drawstring hem of his trouser leg. Reilly tried to shake his foot loose, but in the process he shifted the coffin's center of
gravity, and the broken rhythm spread to the other pallbearers. Axel, on the left-hand side, got into trouble and the cousin and the two colleagues from Siba Computers shifted from foot to foot to maintain their balance. Tony Moreno ended up squatting. He squeezed the brass handle so hard his hand grew white from lack of circulation. A hush of fear went through the mourners. All six men staggered hopelessly back and forth as the little dog yanked and tugged at Reilly's trousers. The mourners at the rear stopped, some clasped their mouths and others clutched their chests. Molly started shouting and the coffin began to slide forward. A violent struggle followed to keep it in position, but the disaster was inevitable. Jon's coffin sloped mercilessly toward the ground. A corner of it hit the slate-covered path with a crack. The flowers skidded off and arranged themselves in a heap at the feet of the vicar, a sea of roses, lilies and white ribbons. With love. From all of us.
Melis let go and rushed quick as lightning back into Molly's arms. The men lifted up the coffin again. One corner of it was damaged: the jagged wood glowed bright, but no one said a word. Later Reilly remembered that Tony Moreno made the sign of the cross.
The wake was held in the church hall.
Tony Moreno appeared in the doorway. He stared at the buzzing crowd, then hesitated before he turned around and left. People looked after him as he hurried off, a small man in a crumpled suit. Axel told funny stories, Ingerid cried, but she had to laugh, too, because he was a great storyteller, and even better at making things up, Reilly thought. After all, he had played a part in most of the incidents Axel described and he barely recognized them. In Axel's embellished version everything was wilder and madder.
It did Ingerid good to laugh, the color returned to her cheeks. After they had been chatting for a while, she remembered something important. Her bag was on the floor, and now she dipped into it to show them something. Her hand brought out a book. Its cover was made from coarse red fabric.
"Look what Hanna Wigert gave to me," she said. "It was in a drawer in Jon's room. It's a diary. He wrote a diary all the time he was at Ladegården."
Axel gave her a baffled look. Reilly felt a blow to his stomach. A diary. Goddamn it.
"Hanna wanted to give it to me personally," Ingerid said.
Axel nodded. He was gripping the edge of the table. Ingerid put the book back in her bag and clicked it shut.
"I will copy Jon," she said. "I'll put it in my desk drawer. One day, when I'm feeling very brave, I'll read it. Jon may not have wanted me to—after all, a diary is a private thing—but I might find some answers."
Axel finally leapt into action. You could see him preparing for an attack. He drew his chair closer, leaned forward over the table and placed a hand on her arm. It was golden against her white skin, a strong, tanned hand with clearly visible veins.
"Think twice before you read
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