Free Mind's Eye by Håkan Nesser Page A

but Havel merely gave him a look.
    “…left the apartment without your knowledge?” Rüger asked.
    “I don’t think she did,” said Mitter.
    “No, but it’s not impossible, is it?”
    “No.”
    “What other men friends did your wife have?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, she must surely have had other men as well as you—I mean, you’d only been together for six months. She separated from her former husband, Andreas Berger, six years ago. Do you know anything about relationships she had in the meantime?”
    “She didn’t have any,” said Mitter abruptly.
    Rüger looked surprised.
    “How do you know that?”
    “Because she said so.”
    “Do I understand this rightly? Are you saying that your wife had no relationship at all with another man for six years?”
    “Yes.”
    “She was a beautiful woman, Mr. Mitter. How is that possible? Six years!”
    “She didn’t have any other men. Have you got that into your head? I thought you were supposed to be my attorney. My Lord, do I have the right to terminate this line of questioning?”
    The judge looked somewhat confused, but before he had time to reach a decision, Rüger was speaking again.
    “I apologize, Mr. Mitter. I merely want the matter to be clear to the jury as well. Allow me to take another approach. Everyone agreed that your wife, Eva Ringmar, was a beautiful and attractive woman. Even if she didn’t want to enter into a relationship, surely there must have been other men who, er, expressed an interest?”
    Mitter said nothing.
    “Before you came into the picture, at least. What about the situation at your school, for example?”
    But Mitter had no desire to answer, that was obvious. He leaned back and folded his arms.
    “You’ll have to ask somebody else about that, my learned friend. I have nothing to add.”
    Rüger hesitated a moment before putting his next question.
    “Your quarrel at the Mephisto restaurant, referred to by the prosecuting attorney—it didn’t have to do with another man, by any chance?”
    “No.”
    “You’re certain?”
    “Of course.”
    Ferrati suddenly intervened.
    “Are you jealous, Mr. Mitter?”
    “Stop!” bellowed Havel. “Erase that question! You have no right to intervene at this stage, that was…”
    “I can answer it even so,” insisted Mitter, and Havel fell silent. “No, I’m no more inclined to jealousy than anybody else. Nor was Eva. And besides, neither of us had any need. I don’t understand what my attorney is getting at.”
    Havel sighed and looked at the clock.
    “If you have anything else to ask, please keep it short,” he said, turning to Rüger.
    Rüger nodded.
    “Of course. Just one more question, Mr. Mitter: Are you quite certain that your wife wasn’t lying to you?”
    Mitter appeared to be pausing for effect before answering.
    “One hundred percent certain,” he said.
    Rüger shrugged.
    “Thank you. No more questions.”
             
    He’s lying, Van Veeteren thought. The man is sitting there and lying his way into jail.
    Or…or is he extending the premise of telling the truth
in absurdum
?
    God only knows. But why? If he doesn’t miss her, why defend her as if she were an abbess?
    And as he elbowed his way out through the crowd of reporters, he decided to leave the pyromaniac lying in peace for another half day.

14
    Why the mother?
    He didn’t know the answer to that himself. Perhaps it was a question of geography. Mrs. Ringmar lived in Leuwen, one of the old fishing ports on the coast. It meant an hour in the car through the polders, and perhaps that was what he needed right now. A lot of sky, not much earth.
    He arrived at the precise moment the clock in the little town hall struck three. He parked in the square and asked his way to Mrs. Ringmar’s house.
    The air was full of sea.
    Sea and wind and salt. If he wanted, he could allow it to remind him of his childhood summers, but there was no reason why he should.
    The house was small and white. Wedged in