The Exception: A Novel Part 37

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.

She places the ladder she found in the garage near a first-floor window and climbs up. The rooms must be unusually high-ceilinged, because the climb is more than twenty feet.

If she and Malene could be back on equal footing, like the old days, then it would be all right for Iben to phone Gunnar.

The window next to the ladder isnt closed properly, just secured with a hook. Its somebodys study. She sees a computer and a shelf full of magazine boxes and folders.

Iben listens for sounds. There arent any. She wont go in, of course that isnt part of her plan.

She thinks of what she will tell Gunnar when she calls him. She leans farther across the windowsill. Right in front of the window stands a large desk with stacks of papers and files. Its too tempting. Iben pulls off her bulky jacket and hangs it on the edge of the open window. Then she takes off her shoes and hangs them by their laces on the window hook.

She estimates the distance across the desktop and then from the desk to the door. The seconds spent crawling over the desk are the most critical. Afterward she will put a chair under the door handle. If they try to get in, the chair should hold them off long enough for her to escape.

She manages to climb in without any problems. Her thick black winter gloves feel too warm, but she keeps them on. A wooden chair seems perfect for jamming the door shut, but she checks it to make sure. Putting the light on is out of the question, and it takes time to locate the computers volume k.n.o.b in the dark. The bedrooms are likely to be on this floor too and she doesnt want the Windows start-up to wake somebody.

The computer is pa.s.sword protected, and she tries everything she can think of, first pressing Enter, then keying in Anne-Lise, Henrik, their childrens names, and their initials. Nothing works. She starts checking through the bookshelves. Its difficult to read in the frail light and everything has to be brought close to the screen. Then she finds a lot of odds and ends some coins, a battery, a plastic bag. Underneath the bag lies a small bicycle LED lamp. Its batteries are low, but the faint red glow it emits is better than nothing.

With the help of the lamp she realizes quickly that everything in here is related to Henriks job and his finances. Theres nothing here. This is as far as sh.e.l.l go. She knows she should get out now.

She listens at the door. Still nothing. After gently extracting the chair from under the handle, she opens the door a fraction. It moves smoothly on its hinges. She peers through the crack, then opens the door a little wider. The floorboards are bound to creak in a house this old.

Behind one of these doors Anne-Lise is sleeping at Henriks side. Her two children are asleep behind other doors. Iben hears a few grunts and, for a while, a mans snoring. The noises come from behind the door farthest away.

Only a few steps to the top of the stairs.

If Henrik wakes up and sees her, itll be easy enough to run back to his study, jam the door shut, and speed down the ladder.

She tries her weight on the floor outside. It doesnt creak. Sweeping the red light around the landing, she can see that they have had a smart new floor laid. She creeps toward the top of the stairs.

From the ground-floor hall she walks into a room that was probably three rooms in the original design. The red light from her lamp is lost under the high ceiling.

The first thing she looks for is a quick exit route. Two large French windows lead out into the garden, but they are locked and she would need a key to open them. The main door probably has the same kind of lock. They make it harder for a thief to get away and a burglar alarm less essential. If Iben needs to escape she will have to break the gla.s.s.

She starts investigating the living room. The walls are white and a large sofa covered in black leather has been placed in the middle of the floor. Almost everything is in the style of the 1980s, including the blue Montana shelving system and the large framed Wala.s.se Ting print. Seeing the quality of everything in here, shes certain that the Ting lithograph is an original.

But still nothing to show Malene.

The door to the dining room is open and so is the door between the dining room and the kitchen. The entire ground floor smells slightly of pizza, and the floor is littered with small cars and toys. Iben tries to memorize where the cars are so she wont slip on them if she has to switch her lamp off and run.

Here and there on the tables and shelves are bundles of old mail and other papers. She leafs through them: bills, notes from Ulriks soccer club, information leaflets from the Pensions Authority, messages from the a.s.sociation of Librarians, and a handful of old furniture catalogs.

Then theres the telephone. It has an answering machine. Its not blinking, but there might still be some old messages stored. Fumbling in her thick winter gloves, Iben turns the sound down and presses Play.

When the tape starts up she raises the volume just enough to hear whats being said. A slurred womans voice begins uncertainly: Jutta. If you Well, I was, you know, talking to a friend and then I thought of you and An upper-cla.s.s accent. She is high as a kite.

Anyway, remember the time wed all gone around to what was his name? And wed just got the trousers, or at least Id just got them. But she said we should go. And you were so smart and said wed just arrived from Odense. Ha ha! It was brilliant. I thought about that just now. Because Ive been talking to a friend and she didnt think so at all.

The message rambles on for a while longer. Iben cant make any sense of it. Its weird, though. Why is a drunk woman confiding in Anne-Lise over the phone? Has Anne-Lise called her in the same state? Does Jutta know that Anne-Lise hits the bottle too?

No more messages. The house is so silent that Iben has become uncertain about how loud any noise she makes is and how far it will travel.

The stairs creak. She starts as if the sound were an explosion. Is someone coming downstairs? She takes a few long steps to reach the fireplace and grabs hold of the heavy poker. Iben would never use it against anyone it would be as remote a possibility as pulling her knife on Anne-Lise or Henrik but she needs a heavy implement to break the French windows. She has a vision of herself running through shards of gla.s.s into the dark garden.

She switches off her lamp, takes up a position facing the glazed door, and freezes on the spot, the poker raised. With any luck sh.e.l.l respond quickly if someone does come in, so that whoever it is wont see anything just a shadow slipping into the darkness.

She listens intently. Henrik could be watching her from only a few yards away without her having heard a thing. Once more, shes unable to distinguish whether the sounds are imagined or real. Faint noises from the bedroom, perhaps? Whispering? Like the voices she thought she heard before Rasmus fell.

After a while she lowers the poker. Her hand and shoulder ache. Turning around, she tries to make out if someone is standing in the dark room.

No one, it seems.

She really must get out of the house.

Still, she shouldnt miss the kitchen. There might be some sign of Anne-Lises alcoholism. She peers into the kitchen cupboards. Theres nothing as obvious as empty bottles of spirits.

There is a magnetic calendar stuck on the fridge. In the light of the cycle lamp Iben reads all about Henrik and Anne-Lises dates. It says where they have been tonight. A + H Meet in nursery. Re Clara. Whats that about? Why a meeting about their daughter?

Theres nothing else of interest on the refrigerator door.

The rubbish bin is stuffed with folded pizza cartons, but underneath them Iben finds a scrunched-up piece of paper with handwritten notes, partially soggy from the tomato sauce. She flattens the page between sheets of paper towels, which she is careful to put in her pocket.

The writing isnt Anne-Lises. It is in a small, precise hand with very straight uprights that slope slightly to the left. It must be Henriks.

Meeting re C.

It upsets us to hear about children hit by C. We want to apologize to their parents.

What can we do to improve things?

It is true that Clara has been aggressive toward friends who have come home to play. (Okay, well accept that they call her unusually aggressive but will stand for nothing stronger. Do not tell them about the episode with Victor in our house.) Stress this: Our willingness to cooperate. Remind them that we both turned up for the PTA day in August. (Try s.h.i.+fting talk away from the other meeting.) Important remember: we have not had any anger management problems with Clara before and we both believe that she will get over this phase soon.

(Agree with A-L in the car.) ONLY if necessary: That the family is angry about other matters and it might have affected Clara. Not angry at her. She is not to be blamed.

No problems, that is, apart from her mothers terrible situation at work.

Stress that were optimistic.

We hope that the Center will become part of Human Rights, surely quite soon. Then A-L gets new colleagues. Well become stronger as At this point the paper is too stained to read. The only other words she can read are in confidence.

What a relief. Shes found something!

With clumsy gloved fingers, she folds the notepaper and puts it into her jeans pocket too. She becomes aware of an itch on her s.h.i.+n, just above the strap for the knife. She tries to scratch it with the toes of her other foot but her knee bangs into the open door of a kitchen cabinet and it slams shut.

On tiptoe she runs back to the living room and takes up the same position as before, the poker ready to smash the glazed garden doors. She stands absolutely still. Her heart is thumping and her mind is churning with fantasies about Henrik coming into the room brandis.h.i.+ng a baseball bat or maybe a gun.