Read Online When the Devil Holds the Candle by Karin Fossum - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karin Fossum
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greet him. He opened the door a crack and whistled. Once Sejer was inside, the dog stood on his hind legs and pressed him against the wall. Now Sejer was wet all over—he definitely needed a shower. The dog sauntered into the living room. Sara called hello.
That's when he noticed the smell. He stood still for a moment, breathing it in. There were several different smells: nutmeg from the kitchen, and melted cheese. Bread baking in the oven. He could also still smell the dog, who had nearly devoured him. But the other smell! The unfamiliar smell coming from the living room. He took a few steps, peeked into the kitchen. She wasn't there. He kept going; the smell got stronger. Something wasn't right. He stopped. She was sitting on the sofa with her feet propped on the table. Soft music reached his ears from the stereo: Billie Holiday singing "God Bless the Child." She was wearing lipstick and a green dress. Her hair gleamed, blond and shiny, and he thought,
She's beautiful. But that's not it.
He glared at her.
"What is it?" she asked gently. There was no trace of anxiety in her voice.
"What are you doing?" he stammered.
"Relaxing." She gave him a radiant smile. "Dinner's ready. Jacob called, said he'd be here shortly."
It smells of hash, Sejer thought. Here, in my own living room. I know that smell, it's not like anything else, I can't be mistaken. He was dumbstruck, a mute beast, a fish out of water. The smell was thick in the whole room. He cast a wild glance at the balcony door, went over and opened it. He was so unbelievably surprised, so completely bowled over.
"Konrad," she said. "You look so strange."
He turned to face her. "It's nothing. Just ... something occurred to me." His voice didn't sound normal. He tried to think. Jacob could be there any second. Sara didn't look stoned, but maybe she would be soon. Jacob would think he condoned it, and he didn't. What on earth should he do? She's a psychiatrist, she works with people who are very sick, many of them destroyed by drugs—heroin and Ecstasy—and here she sits, getting stoned. On my sofa. I thought I knew her. But I suppose, after all, that I don't. The crease on Sejer's forehead was deeper than it had ever been.
Sara got to her feet. She placed her hands on his chest and stood on her toes—even then, he was taller than she was.
"You look so worried. Please don't be worried."
The only thing he smelled was the caramel scent of her lipstick. He swallowed hard, and there was an audible gulp in his throat.
Why do I become a child in the arms of this woman?
he wondered. And then, his voice hoarse, he asked her, "What's that strange smell?"
She laughed slyly. "I put a whole nutmeg in the mousaka by mistake, and I haven't been able to find it."
He stared at his feet. He certainly didn't have time for a shower now. Jacob would soon be at the doorbell. The fresh September air came streaming into the room. Billie Holiday was singing. He didn't know if the smell was still there as the room gradually cooled off.
Norwegian law,
he thought.
In accordance with Norwegian law.
It sounded ridiculous. He could say anything to her, but not that. It occurred to him that this woman had her own laws, and yet she had higher moral standards than anyone he knew. He felt like a schoolboy: there was so much he didn't know, so much he had never tried. He was curious about
people, he wanted to know about them, who they were and why they were that way. But right now he felt something wavering inside him.
The doorbell rang. Sara went to open the door. Jacob was sharp, though he looked like a schoolboy. Was the smell still there? His eyes stopped at the picture of Elise on the wall in front of him. She smiled back: she had no worries. For an instant she disappeared, seemed more dead than usual, it was harder to summon her back, her voice, her laughter. He felt a new kind of grief that she was about to leave him in a different way. Would it never end? He went out to the balcony. He
That's when he noticed the smell. He stood still for a moment, breathing it in. There were several different smells: nutmeg from the kitchen, and melted cheese. Bread baking in the oven. He could also still smell the dog, who had nearly devoured him. But the other smell! The unfamiliar smell coming from the living room. He took a few steps, peeked into the kitchen. She wasn't there. He kept going; the smell got stronger. Something wasn't right. He stopped. She was sitting on the sofa with her feet propped on the table. Soft music reached his ears from the stereo: Billie Holiday singing "God Bless the Child." She was wearing lipstick and a green dress. Her hair gleamed, blond and shiny, and he thought,
She's beautiful. But that's not it.
He glared at her.
"What is it?" she asked gently. There was no trace of anxiety in her voice.
"What are you doing?" he stammered.
"Relaxing." She gave him a radiant smile. "Dinner's ready. Jacob called, said he'd be here shortly."
It smells of hash, Sejer thought. Here, in my own living room. I know that smell, it's not like anything else, I can't be mistaken. He was dumbstruck, a mute beast, a fish out of water. The smell was thick in the whole room. He cast a wild glance at the balcony door, went over and opened it. He was so unbelievably surprised, so completely bowled over.
"Konrad," she said. "You look so strange."
He turned to face her. "It's nothing. Just ... something occurred to me." His voice didn't sound normal. He tried to think. Jacob could be there any second. Sara didn't look stoned, but maybe she would be soon. Jacob would think he condoned it, and he didn't. What on earth should he do? She's a psychiatrist, she works with people who are very sick, many of them destroyed by drugs—heroin and Ecstasy—and here she sits, getting stoned. On my sofa. I thought I knew her. But I suppose, after all, that I don't. The crease on Sejer's forehead was deeper than it had ever been.
Sara got to her feet. She placed her hands on his chest and stood on her toes—even then, he was taller than she was.
"You look so worried. Please don't be worried."
The only thing he smelled was the caramel scent of her lipstick. He swallowed hard, and there was an audible gulp in his throat.
Why do I become a child in the arms of this woman?
he wondered. And then, his voice hoarse, he asked her, "What's that strange smell?"
She laughed slyly. "I put a whole nutmeg in the mousaka by mistake, and I haven't been able to find it."
He stared at his feet. He certainly didn't have time for a shower now. Jacob would soon be at the doorbell. The fresh September air came streaming into the room. Billie Holiday was singing. He didn't know if the smell was still there as the room gradually cooled off.
Norwegian law,
he thought.
In accordance with Norwegian law.
It sounded ridiculous. He could say anything to her, but not that. It occurred to him that this woman had her own laws, and yet she had higher moral standards than anyone he knew. He felt like a schoolboy: there was so much he didn't know, so much he had never tried. He was curious about
people, he wanted to know about them, who they were and why they were that way. But right now he felt something wavering inside him.
The doorbell rang. Sara went to open the door. Jacob was sharp, though he looked like a schoolboy. Was the smell still there? His eyes stopped at the picture of Elise on the wall in front of him. She smiled back: she had no worries. For an instant she disappeared, seemed more dead than usual, it was harder to summon her back, her voice, her laughter. He felt a new kind of grief that she was about to leave him in a different way. Would it never end? He went out to the balcony. He
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