Read Online When the Devil Holds the Candle by Karin Fossum - Free Book Online
Authors: Karin Fossum
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moved quietly and didn't make too much noise. With his kind of coloring it was almost too much for them.
"I want to know what they did," said his mother again.
"Ingrid," said her father, "if he doesn't want to tell you, he should be allowed to keep it to himself."
Matteus cleared his throat. "They asked me how to get to the bowling alley. But they knew where it was. Afterward they came back. They didn't do anything."
He took out the bag of sweets that he had been clutching in his hand, lifted it up to his nose and sniffed at it. It contained sour balls, jelly worms, and marshmallows.
"I'm sorry," his mother said softly. "I was just so worried."
Chief Inspector Konrad Sejer picked up his grandson and sat him on his lap. He buried his face in the boy's curly hair and thought about the years yet to come. Tried his utmost to decipher the shadowy images that lay ahead, far in the future.
"They said I had a cool jacket," Matteus said, grinning.
"What's inside is even cooler," Sejer said. "Walk me to the door. I have to go home."
"No, you don't. I know Kollberg isn't alone."
"I have to go home to Sara."
"Is she going to move in with you? Where am I going to sleep when I come to stay?"
"She's not going to live with me. She lives with her father, because he's sick. But she comes to see me, and sometimes she stays overnight. If she's there when you come over, you can sleep on the floor. All by yourself. On a foam mattress."
Matteus blinked his eyes in dismay. He stood there holding his grandfather's hand, tugging at it. Ingrid had to turn away to giggle.
"She's not fat, is she? So that there wouldn't be room for all of us?"
"No," Sejer said, "she's not fat."
He patted his daughter rather awkwardly on the arm and went out into the courtyard. Waved to Matteus in the open doorway. He drove slowly toward his apartment building. Later he would remember that in those few minutes it took him to drive home from his daughter's house life had seemed so orderly, so predictable and safe. Lonely, perhaps, but he had his dog. A Leonberger that weighed a hundred and fifty pounds and was lacking in any manners. He was actually ashamed about that. Sara had a dog, too, a well-behaved Alsatian. Sejer didn't like surprises: he was used to always being in control. He had almost everything. A good reputation. Respect. And, after many years as a widower, he had Sara. Life was no longer predictable. She was waiting for him now. They had invited Jacob Skarre to dinner, a younger officer whom Sejer liked and in an odd way counted as a friend, even though he was old enough to be Skarre's father. But he enjoyed being with someone who was still young. And, he had to admit, it was good to have someone who listened, who still had a lot to learn. He had never had a son. Perhaps that was why he was so fond of Skarre.
He braked gently for a red light. Sara is standing in the kitchen. She's dressed up, but not too much. Probably put on a dress, he thought. She has brushed her long blond hair. She's not stressed. Her movements are measured and gentle, like the way I drive my car through town. The nape of her neck. A shiver ran down his spine. Those short blond hairs against her smooth skin. Her wide shoulders. She looks at her watch because she's expecting me home, and Jacob could turn up at any moment. The food is ready, but if it's not, that doesn't make her nervous. She's not like other people. She's in control. She's mine. He started humming a tune by Dani Klein—"Don't Break My Heart"—and then he glanced in the rearview mirror. For a moment he was shocked at how gray his hair was. Sara was so blond and slender.
Oh, well. I'm a grown man,
thought Konrad Sejer as he pulled into the garage. He used the stairs, even though he lived on the thirteenth floor. He was trying to stay in shape; he took them at a run, without getting out of breath. Maybe he'd have a shower. As he pushed down the door handle, he heard his dog making a racket, bounding up to
"I want to know what they did," said his mother again.
"Ingrid," said her father, "if he doesn't want to tell you, he should be allowed to keep it to himself."
Matteus cleared his throat. "They asked me how to get to the bowling alley. But they knew where it was. Afterward they came back. They didn't do anything."
He took out the bag of sweets that he had been clutching in his hand, lifted it up to his nose and sniffed at it. It contained sour balls, jelly worms, and marshmallows.
"I'm sorry," his mother said softly. "I was just so worried."
Chief Inspector Konrad Sejer picked up his grandson and sat him on his lap. He buried his face in the boy's curly hair and thought about the years yet to come. Tried his utmost to decipher the shadowy images that lay ahead, far in the future.
"They said I had a cool jacket," Matteus said, grinning.
"What's inside is even cooler," Sejer said. "Walk me to the door. I have to go home."
"No, you don't. I know Kollberg isn't alone."
"I have to go home to Sara."
"Is she going to move in with you? Where am I going to sleep when I come to stay?"
"She's not going to live with me. She lives with her father, because he's sick. But she comes to see me, and sometimes she stays overnight. If she's there when you come over, you can sleep on the floor. All by yourself. On a foam mattress."
Matteus blinked his eyes in dismay. He stood there holding his grandfather's hand, tugging at it. Ingrid had to turn away to giggle.
"She's not fat, is she? So that there wouldn't be room for all of us?"
"No," Sejer said, "she's not fat."
He patted his daughter rather awkwardly on the arm and went out into the courtyard. Waved to Matteus in the open doorway. He drove slowly toward his apartment building. Later he would remember that in those few minutes it took him to drive home from his daughter's house life had seemed so orderly, so predictable and safe. Lonely, perhaps, but he had his dog. A Leonberger that weighed a hundred and fifty pounds and was lacking in any manners. He was actually ashamed about that. Sara had a dog, too, a well-behaved Alsatian. Sejer didn't like surprises: he was used to always being in control. He had almost everything. A good reputation. Respect. And, after many years as a widower, he had Sara. Life was no longer predictable. She was waiting for him now. They had invited Jacob Skarre to dinner, a younger officer whom Sejer liked and in an odd way counted as a friend, even though he was old enough to be Skarre's father. But he enjoyed being with someone who was still young. And, he had to admit, it was good to have someone who listened, who still had a lot to learn. He had never had a son. Perhaps that was why he was so fond of Skarre.
He braked gently for a red light. Sara is standing in the kitchen. She's dressed up, but not too much. Probably put on a dress, he thought. She has brushed her long blond hair. She's not stressed. Her movements are measured and gentle, like the way I drive my car through town. The nape of her neck. A shiver ran down his spine. Those short blond hairs against her smooth skin. Her wide shoulders. She looks at her watch because she's expecting me home, and Jacob could turn up at any moment. The food is ready, but if it's not, that doesn't make her nervous. She's not like other people. She's in control. She's mine. He started humming a tune by Dani Klein—"Don't Break My Heart"—and then he glanced in the rearview mirror. For a moment he was shocked at how gray his hair was. Sara was so blond and slender.
Oh, well. I'm a grown man,
thought Konrad Sejer as he pulled into the garage. He used the stairs, even though he lived on the thirteenth floor. He was trying to stay in shape; he took them at a run, without getting out of breath. Maybe he'd have a shower. As he pushed down the door handle, he heard his dog making a racket, bounding up to
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