Sunniva Rød had worked the afternoon shift and was more exhausted than usual. She had slept badly, tossing and turning in her bed, dreaming bizarre dreams. She wondered what could have prompted them. Was it because he had stopped calling? At first he had rung her all the time, endless calls and lots of messages, then a complete stop. Nothing. Had something happened to Curry? Had he been in an accident? Perhaps she ought to ring round to check? She let out a sigh and entered the last room she needed to check before she could finish for the day. Torvald Sund, the mad vicar. She would usually pause outside his door, bracing herself before going inside, but she was too tired today; she did not have the energy. She just wanted to go home and get some sleep.
She entered the room and was a little startled when she saw him sitting up, eyes wide open and a smile playing on his lips. As if he had been waiting for her to arrive.
‘I’m going to die soon,’ the vicar announced.
‘Don’t talk like that, Torvald,’ Sunniva said, walking over to his bedside table to clear away the lunch that her colleagues had brought him but which he had not touched.
‘Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want something to eat?’ Sunniva said.
‘I won’t need food in Heaven,’ the vicar continued to smile, still not taking his eyes off her. He made her feel uneasy.
‘Don’t say such things,’ Sunniva said. ‘You have many good days left.’
‘I’m going to die soon,’ the vicar said again, more insistent this time. ‘But I don’t mind because I will get into Heaven after all. God has told me that I can atone for my sins.’
Sunniva began to clear away the food.
I won’t go to Heaven.
I have sinned.
Why hadn’t Curry called? Had something happened?
She picked up the tray from the bedside table and made to leave.
‘No, listen to me,’ the vicar insisted.
Sunniva’s gaze was imploring now. She was so tired.
‘I have to clear this away, Torvald,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘And then my shift is over. But the others will be here soon, so it’s going to be OK.’
‘No,’ the old man said loudly, raising a crooked finger. ‘It has to be you.’
Sunniva was startled, and she stopped in the middle of the floor with the tray in her hands.
The mad vicar.
No. She just wanted to go home.
‘Please,’ he said in a feeble voice as she reached the door. ‘I didn’t mean to shout, God forgive me, but this is the way it must happen. You’re the messenger.’
Sunniva turned and looked at him. He was staring at her, pleading. He had folded his hands.
‘Please?’
‘Listen to what?’ Sunniva sighed.
‘Thank you so much,’ the old man said, when he saw Sunniva put down the tray on the table by the door and come back to his bedside. ‘We both thank you, God and I. The messenger.’
He raised his hands towards the heavens and murmured something.
‘Why am I the messenger, Torvald?’ Sunniva said. ‘And what’s the message? And who is it for?’
The vicar smiled at her again. ‘At first it made no sense to me, but then I found out who you are.’
‘Who I am? But you know who I am, Torvald. We’ve known each other for ages.’
‘Oh, no, no,’ the old man said with a light cough. ‘Not until I heard the other nurses talk.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, you know, they whisper and gossip when they change my bed. They don’t think Torvald has ears, they think he’s not even human, just someone waiting to die: no, he won’t know that we’re talking about Sunniva.’
‘What?’ Sunniva was confused. ‘What do they say about me?’
Suddenly she was intrigued by what the old man had to say.
‘And that was when I realized that you were the messenger,’ the old man said happily, then he looked as if he had been distracted by something.
‘What do they say about me?’ Sunniva said, bringing him back.
‘Oh, nothing to worry about. Only that you and the policeman are no longer getting married. That he drinks and gambles away your money.’
‘What the f—’ Sunniva burst out, but stopped herself. She worked in the one place in Norway where swearing could lead to dismissal.
‘How dare they—’
‘Hush, hush, my friend, it’s all for the best.’
‘How can that be …?’
‘So it’s true? He’s a police officer?’
‘Yes, sort of.’ Sunniva nodded.
‘Oh, God, thank you. Now I will go to Heaven.’ The old man smiled, and clapped his wrinkly hands.
‘Torvald, I don’t know if—’ Sunniva sighed, but he interrupted her.
‘A great sin can only be redeemed through a great good deed.’
‘I don’t know …’
‘So says the Scripture, and that is the word of God,’ the vicar went on, taking no notice of her.
Sunniva had a feeling he was heading into madness again, and yet there was something in his eyes that told her that today was different. She had never seen him this alert before.
‘So I’m the messenger,’ she said. ‘What did you want to tell me?’
‘You’ve seen the papers?’ the old man said, still lucid.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The sacrificial lamb in the circle of sin?’
Sunniva had to think hard before she realized what he was referring to. The young girl found murdered in the forest on the far side of Hurumlandet. The papers had written about little else recently. Naked. Strangled. In some kind of ritual. Even thinking about it sent shivers down her spine.
‘What about her?’ Sunniva said, still intrigued.
‘I know who it was.’
‘Who the girl was?’
‘No,’ he said, exasperated at her inability to follow his train of thought.
‘Then who?’
‘God’s will.’ The vicar nodded, content again.
‘Torvald, what are you talking about?’ Sunniva said.
The old man folded his hands across his chest and closed his eyes for a moment as if he were having a conversation with someone inside his head; then he opened them again and looked right at her.
‘I know who killed her.’