Murder of Halland Read Free Page B

speech: ‘He could go for days without saying a word to Mum, all because of some little thing that annoyed him. No wonder she died before her time!’ My grandfather had shunned me for ten years. Maybe because of Abby, maybe because he opposed divorce. I didn’t know. He behaved wonderfully towards me during my childhood. Now he wouldn’t answer my letters. After the separation, I had attended a couple of family get-togethers . When I sat down next to him, he got up and went to the other end of the room. I didn’t care about the family if Abby wasn’t there. And most of them didn’t want to see me anyway; they wanted to see her. In the end, they kept their distance and I kept mine.
    I deliberately didn’t plan what to say before I rang the hospital back. My grandfather didn’t sound poorly or even especially weak. ‘Hello?’ he barked.
    ‘Grandfather, it’s Bess. Mum said you wanted to talk to me?’
    ‘Yes. I’d prefer to see you face to face.’
    ‘I would like to visit, but something’s happened… Halland… my husband. How are you?’
    ‘Not well, my dear.’
    ‘One of the photographs hanging on the wall above my bed shows you sitting in a deckchair wearing a strawhat. Do you remember? I look at it every night before I go to sleep.’
    ‘I’ve been foolish, my dear,’ he said. He never called me ‘my dear’ when I was a girl. ‘We’re all so fond of Abby. I suppose that’s why we didn’t…’
    Now he did sound poorly.
    ‘I’m very happy we’re speaking now,’ I said.
    ‘I’m a great-great-grandfather! Did you know?’
    ‘Yes! I’ve seen baby Sofie!’
    ‘Do you know…’ – he winced, or shifted his weight – ‘who was there when she was born?’
    I did know: my cousin’s daughter – the baby’s mother – her husband, her mother and her sister.
    ‘Three witnesses,’ he spluttered, ‘and here I am, all on my own! You all live so far away. What a mess!’
    ‘Grandfather, I’ll come and see you as soon as I can.’
    ‘All right, dear, all right,’ he said. ‘Bye.’
    A commotion followed as though he had dropped the receiver. I continued to listen. The line was still connected, but no one said anything. All I could hear was a hiss and what sounded like footsteps in a corridor. I hung up. I didn’t cry, only stared at the phone. After a while I looked out of the window at the fjord. Was that all?
    I thought of calling Halland. And remembered I couldn’t. Then again, perhaps I could. Where was his mobile? I could make it ring somewhere. In a bush. In a car. In the pocket of a stranger, a man with a hunting rifle. I pressed 1. The number didn’t pick up.
    Now I could only wait for Abby to ring. Perhaps I should call my mother again, but I didn’t want to speakto her. The police would be coming back. But what about Halland? I went into the hall to check on his briefcase. It was still standing in the same spot and his coat still hung on the same peg. Why had he left the house without his coat and briefcase? His big binoculars stood on the windowsill in the living room, so he hadn’t gone out because he had seen a bird. No one had rung the doorbell; I would have heard that. I rummaged in his pockets, even though I had seen the police checking them earlier. They were empty. I picked up the briefcase and went upstairs.
    This was Halland’s domain – a place I hardly ever entered. Here was his office. Next door was the guest room. At the far end was empty loft space with a clothes line and some junk.
    I felt apprehensive as I pushed open the door to his office. I am just putting the briefcase away, I told myself. I went over to the window, looked out. How tidy his desk was! A bulldog clip holding receipts, two biros, a calendar. That was it.
    On the wall above the desk hung a black-and-white photograph. I took the picture down and wiped the dust off the glass with my sleeve. It showed Halland and me on our way to a film premiere. A press photographer had caught the moment.