Remember: the oldest trick in the book is the one that works best. It was enough for me to glance at another woman for Lucy to decide to have sex with me. As I lay naked beside her on the floor of her flat an hour or so later, I was amazed at how easy it was to get what you wanted the whole time. She’d started the evening saying no, and ended up saying yes.
Same old story.
My mobile rang.
‘Martin, you’ve got to come over. The cellar’s flooded.’
Perfect.
My mum only rings to ask if she can look after Belle, or because she wants my help with something. I have a standard response to requests for help.
‘You know I’d help you if I could, Marianne. But I’m afraid I simply haven’t got time. A client needs me, and I can’t leave her in the lurch. Call someone else and I’ll take care of the bill later.’
The idea that being rich doesn’t make you happier is rubbish. Money means you can buy time, and time lets you buy freedom. And a person who is free is also happy.
I’ve never actually called my mum ‘Mum’. Her name is Marianne, and there’s no good reason not to call her that.
When I hung up I saw that Lucy was looking at me.
‘That wasn’t very nice.’
‘It’s getting late. I need to go home and relieve the babysitter.’
I got up from the floor and stretched.
‘You know, I could go home with you,’ Lucy said. ‘Stay the night and take Belle to preschool tomorrow.’
I pulled on my pants and trousers.
‘Baby, that’s probably not a good idea.’
We both knew why. So that Belle didn’t see us together too often. Because I didn’t want her to think that we were a proper couple.
‘Another time, okay?’
Lucy went into the bathroom and closed the door. I heard her turn the tap in the basin. So I wouldn’t hear her pee. Ridiculous.
But what was even more ridiculous was that I was still thinking about Sara Texas. And Bobby.
She had confessed to five murders. This case had never been some trashy reality show. There was evidence. Sara had been able to account for specific times and dates. She’d said where the murder weapons were, insofar as there were any. And she had described other details that no one but the murderer could have known about.
Even so, doubts were starting to grow inside my head like a vague itch.
That damn ticket. That didn’t prove anything, did it? It wasn’t even an individual ticket, there was no name on it to say who had used it.
Bobby said he got it from his sister’s friend Jenny. Bobby. That was a really stupid name, too. A problem name. In Sweden, anyway. I remembered photographs I’d seen in the papers. She wasn’t at all like her brother. Which didn’t matter, of course. I wasn’t much like my sister. We had different fathers. Mine was black and came from the USA. From Texas, in fact. My sister was as white as Mum. Her father came from Sälen. Actually from Sälen, the ski resort. I never imagined anyone really lived there.
I smiled at the thought of how different my sister and I used to look. The first time I dropped Belle off at preschool the staff were astonished. I could see it very clearly even though they didn’t say anything. How could such a tall black man have such a fair little child?
Sara Texas. Obviously her name was Tell, not Texas, as her brother had pointed out. Texas was what the newspapers called her. Because that was where she claimed her first victims. Like a hunter.
I sighed. I wasn’t going to be able to resist, I knew that. I was going to sit down and read through all the articles I could find about Sara Texas, I’d stay up all night if necessary. When dawn came I’d rub my eyes and fall asleep at my desk. The spell would be broken the moment Belle woke up. Irritable and dishevelled, I’d drive her to preschool and wait for Sunday, when I would call Bobby and explain things to him. That his sister’s case was interesting, but not for me.
Seeing as she was dead.
Seeing as I wasn’t a private detective.
Bobby had said a single sentence that I couldn’t shake off quite as lightly. That Sara’s lawyer hadn’t done his job. That he had ‘known things’.
Lucy came out of the bathroom. Naked and beautiful. It was hard to believe that she had once been mine.
‘Do you remember who defended Sara Texas?’ I said.
Lucy laughed and picked her briefs off the floor.
‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to let it go.’
‘Stop it, I’m just curious.’
‘I can understand that. Tor Gustavsson was in charge of her case.’
I let out a whistle. Of course, old Gustavsson, I’d completely forgotten that.
‘Didn’t he retire fairly recently?’ I said.
‘December last year, just after Sara died,’ Lucy said. ‘You missed his leaving do because you and Belle were in Copenhagen that weekend.’
I found myself smiling when Lucy reminded me of that trip to Copenhagen. It had been a great success. Just Belle and me. We flew there for the second weekend of Advent and stayed in one of the hotels along the coast. That was probably the first time I properly understood that children change over time. That they grow gradually. For some stupid reason I was surprised that Belle ate so nicely when we went to restaurants. She could say what she liked and what she didn’t like. I drank wine and she drank fizzy pop. When we went back to the hotel, she walked all the way. No pushchair, no carrying. Not that it was particularly far, but I was still proud of her. And incredibly sad. About the fact my sister had died when Belle was so small. And that the person looking after Belle – me, in other words – didn’t even know that she could feed herself.
After that I promised myself that I would be more present in her life. And I’ve kept that promise.
The memory went from warming to painful and I had to blink a few times.
‘It was boring as fuck,’ Lucy said. ‘Gustavsson made the longest speech ever, going on and on about all the great things he’d done in his career.’
‘Did he mention Sara Texas?’
‘No, and that was seriously bloody weird. Because I don’t think he actually ever worked on a bigger case than that. But I dare say he saw that one as a failure. Seeing as she died.’
That was true. I remember being surprised when I saw Gustavsson being quoted in the papers. Why had Sara picked one of the best lawyers to defend her when she’d decided to admit everything and then commit suicide before the trial?
‘Shall I call for a taxi?’ Lucy said.
I tucked my shirt in my trousers.
I looked out of the window and saw the rain. Was that how it was going to be from now on? Rainy and wet.
‘Yes please,’ I said.
Shortly afterwards I was sitting in the taxi. I called my mother to ask what was happening with the flooded cellar. A plumber was on his way.