Read Murder of Halland for Free Online Page B

shoulders but was unable to get a proper hold. I just stopped myself from falling. Oh, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me . I began to cry. ‘And I’ve broken a tooth!’ I wailed. Funder helped me to a chair. I didn’t look at him. I wasn’t really crying; I merely shed some tears. The detective busied himself with the gas.
    ‘Making any headway with the investigation?’ I finally asked.
    Not much news. They knew where the killer had stood - at the far end of the churchyard on the other side of the bank, under cover of some trees. No one had actually seen him. Halland’s mobile had gone missing. And what about his computer?
    ‘He had a laptop,’ I said, ‘but it’s not here. I haven’t seen his grey shoulder bag either.’
    ‘And the keys we found in his pocket?’
    ‘No idea,’ I said.
    ‘Halland was a lot older than you, no?’
    He was. Halland would have been sixty in a few months. We had talked, rather painfully, about celebrating . We rarely invited guests after his illness. And now I didn’t feel like talking to anyone about his death. Thirty-seven emails - and not one that deserved a reply.
    ‘Was he married before?’
    Halland was never married. He had a number of relationships, but I didn’t want to know about them.
    ‘Did he never mention particular women?’
    ‘No. Well, yes. But no one I knew. Do you think some old flame could have shot him?’
    Finishing his coffee, Funder stood up. ‘Do you mind if I look around in the loft? I won’t disturb anything.’
    ‘I thought you’d already looked there.’
    ‘I did. But I’d like to look again.’ On his way up the stairs, he called back down to me, ‘I’ve reconnected your landline. Both your plugs had been pulled out of the sockets.’
    I sat in the kitchen and tried to follow the detective in my mind. What would he find? What could he find? There was very little in the desk, I knew. Was that normal? Did I even know? Of course I did, I just couldn’t remember. Did I remember anything? I hadn’t even realized that the computer was missing. I only admired Halland’s sense of order. Was the desk usually that empty, or had he recently cleared out the papers?
    I had twisted my back when I slipped in the kitchen. Hobbling out onto the doorstep after Funder had gone, I inhaled the clear air. The rain had stopped. The man from the jetty crossed the square. As he approached my neighbour’s door, he smiled wryly and put the key into the lock. He was starting to annoy me.
    ‘Are you staying with Brandt?’ I asked. The question was stupid. He clearly had a key.
    The man said nothing.

12
    Dreaming softens you and makes you unfit for daily work.
     
    Henriette Heise (quoting Louise Bourgeois),
INSTALLATION
    I stood on the tree-lined promenade that runs along the fjord. The limes were coming into leaf. Evening light played on the gently rippling water. A tongue probed inside my sleeve, licking my wrist. Startled, I cried out.
    ‘He’s just being friendly.’ A man’s voice. Brandt, the doctor, my neighbour.
    ‘Now that’s news! I didn’t know you owned a dog.’ I only spoke after he had pulled his pet to heel.
    ‘I’m looking after him for my sister,’ Brandt said from beneath the trees.
    ‘So you’ve had guests too.’ I turned back to the fjord, disgusted by the wetness on my wrist. I didn’t want him to see me wipe it off.
    ‘Bess, I’m so sorry about Halland. Dreadful!’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I saw him.’
    ‘You were there? On the square?’
    ‘I saw you as well.’
    My feet felt cold. ‘I didn’t see anyone.’
    ‘Have the police found anything?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘An old friend’s staying with me. He’s researching photographs in the museum archives. Perhaps you’ve seen him?’
    ‘We’ve said hello. He takes a lot of strolls for someone who’s meant to be busy.’
    ‘I’ve been thinking of having you round… How are you?’
    The fjord had become a blend of blues and greens.
    ‘When’s the funeral?’
    ‘Funeral?’ The