Murder of Halland Read Online Free PDF

my study. I rarely revealed myself to Halland, not if I had time to think before I spoke. The thoughts sounded wrong inside my head sothey never came out of my mouth. Eventually I convinced myself that we understood one another without recourse to words. His personal belongings and affairs were so inconspicuous that I never considered them at all. But his illness filled my entire consciousness. I couldn’t look away any longer. I helped him in little ways, though I spoke of the illness as seldom as possible. Only once did I ask him if he was in pain. He turned away without replying, because he was in pain, I suppose, but I never knew. Poor Halland. I think he would have liked to have known me.
     
    I stood in the living room. The lid of the piano was open. Halland had put candles in the holders. He had given me the piano when I moved in with him because I had told him I played. The only time I showed any interest in the instrument was the day the tuner came. I still had ‘ Golliwog’s Cakewalk’ at my fingertips. Part of it, anyway. But then I ground to a halt and didn’t return to the keyboard other than to run a duster over it, which happened rarely. We never spoke about the piano again. Now I began rummaging for my childhood sheet music. I found the box and placed it on the coffee table. I sorted through the sheets, chose a piece and began to play. Progress was slow, but I was in no hurry. When I looked up, I realized that an hour had passed. I felt at peace.
    I had left a window open onto the street. A man stood in the square as if listening. At first he didn’t bother me, until I recognized him as the man from the jetty. What on earth was he doing here? I noisily closed the window. He acknowledged me with a nod and went on his way.

9
    The monkey looked the buzzard right dead in the eye and said, ‘Your story’s so touching, but it sounds jes’ like a lie.’  
     
    Irving Mills, STRAIGHTEN UP AND FLY RIGHT
    I waited until dusk before going to see whether Inger had left supper on the step. I had already decided to bin the food, but as I carried the casserole into the kitchen, my stomach suddenly knotted. I couldn’t remember if I had eaten since Halland’s death. The smell of the cold stew wafted out as I lifted the dripping lid. I grabbed a fork and ate straight from the pot, standing up at the kitchen counter . My stomach contracted. I left the fork in the pot, guzzled some water from the tap and then threw myself onto the sofa, burying my face in the cushions and drawing the blanket over me. I closed my eyes and kicked off my shoes. I felt sated and drowsy, serene and utterly relaxed. Now I could sleep. But my mouth filled with acid. I knew what that meant, the familiar twinge behind my eyes. When I swallowed, the bile rose again, more insistent. My head began to spin. I flung the blanket aside and raced into the hall, reaching the toilet just as Inger’s stew flew outof my mouth in a cascade of vomit. I slumped groaning on the bathroom floor. ‘Ugh!’ The sound helped. The floor was warm. I lay there for a moment – the briefest of moments – curled into a ball till the doorbell rang. It was dark outside. My body ached. The floor was hard, and I had no idea how long I had slept.
    Someone stood in the light of the street lamp, but I couldn’t see who. As I opened the door my queasiness faded. The young woman wasn’t Abby. Doe-eyed, legs apart, a holdall over her shoulder, she seemed to be thrusting her pregnant stomach right at me.
    ‘Sorry to turn up so late,’ she said, not sounding at all apologetic. ‘It’s such a chore getting here from Copenhagen without a car. The journey took longer than I expected.’
    ‘Who are you?’
    ‘I’m Pernille.’
    ‘Have we met?’
    ‘I’m Halland’s niece. I read about his death in the paper. Didn’t he ever mention me?’
    I stood aside so she could come in. The fact that Halland had a niece was news to me. Dropping her bag on the floor in the hall,