The Human Flies - [28]

I nodded.

‘We both hope so. But we also have to talk about a certain young woman who lives – and was at home – in the building in which the murder took place, and whom you definitely lied about when we first spoke together.’

The reaction was instant. There was a flash in Kristian

Lund’s eyes. With a slightly shaky hand he lit a new cigarette and took a couple of puffs before he answered.

‘I know what you are talking about. Was it the caretaker’s wife or Sara herself who told you?’

I shook my head.

‘Neither of them. I drew my own conclusions based on the information I had, and probability.’

He nodded with approval.

‘Impressive of you and reassuring for me. I am beginning to believe that you will indeed find the murderer. But that has nothing to do with the murder either. It is, of course, information that may be of some importance in terms of alibis and the like, and I apologize for lying, but I have got myself into rather a sticky situation. My wife does not need to know anything about this, does she?’

I agreed, but added quickly: ‘On the condition that it is of no relevance to the murder. And that you now give me a better account, which is more honest than the last one!’

He nodded vehemently. It appeared that Kristian Lund had no problems talking about deeply personal things. My impression that he was somewhat egocentric but also an intelligent and socially gifted person was reinforced.

‘I realize that the fact that I am having an extramarital affair with a woman who lives next door does not inspire confidence. Especially as I have such an attractive, good wife and a sweet little boy. I am afraid the explanation may take some time.’

I indicated that I was in no rush. Kristian Lund’s life was something that interested me more and more. He nodded gratefully, leaned back in his chair and thought for a few moments before starting.

‘It started sometime last year with a rather generous dose of good old-fashioned desire.’

He sat in silence for a moment. Then his face tightened before he carried on in a self-pitying vein once again.

‘But in fact it all goes back to my mother and my childhood. For many years I was the boy who none of the girls wanted to touch or admit that she liked. By the time I turned seventeen, I had still not kissed a girl. One experience in particular left its mark, even though it was completely innocent. When I was fourteen, we went on a school trip and all the boys in the class got a goodnight hug from one of the girls. Except me. “There are limits. Even for hugs,” she said with a cold, sarcastic smile. Everyone laughed. I cried all night and swore that one day I would be a success. Then when I was eighteen, everything suddenly changed. I played in a band and was the star of the football team. I had accumulated such a vast lack of intimacy that I exploited my advantage for all it was worth. The girl who refused to give me a hug when we were fourteen was one of several who then lay moaning under me when she was nineteen.’

He broke into a smile. It was obvious that this episode was one of the better memories from his youth.

‘I am certain there was an underlying need for self-vindication and revenge on my part, but also physical desire. I was an active young man with a strong libido. Young women soon excited me more than football matches. But then I got older and wiser, and my hormones settled. The atmosphere at business school was more mature and serious, and after I met Karen, I never touched anyone else. Until…’

The word hung in the air for a moment before he finished.

‘Until Sara stood there one day, glimmering on the stairs, and said that she had just moved in. I felt a surge of excitement and desire stronger than ever before.’

He leaned over the table towards me.

‘You are further from those days than I am, but you must at least once have stood slightly too close to one of those annoyingly beautiful temptresses between seventeen and twenty-three… who appears to have unwittingly tightened her belt too much, undone three buttons on her blouse and be standing a bit too close. With a provocative smile that seems to say that you can see this much whenever you like, but no more.’

I waved him on without answering. I indeed had stood too close to at least one young lady who fitted that description. And I noted that we were now on very familiar terms.

‘No girl provoked me or turned me on more when I was a lad. Sometimes I lied and made promises that I had no intention of keeping, even when I was sober. I believed that if a girl was giving out mixed messages, she had to accept that the opposite party might do the same. So I played the game, and gained more than I lost, I would say. Certainly, more than once they got a taste of their own medicine and were left crying in their own trap. Sara gave exactly that impression when she stood there in front of me. She was older, taller and more dignified in a way, in her long black dress with only two buttons open at the neck. But her smile had the same teasing, tempting effect, and the impact was all the greater because she otherwise appeared so respectable and intelligent. Her smile seemed to say that no one had been here before and being the first would not be easy. It felt like an open challenge as she stood there no more than an arm’s length from me, with her perfect curves under wraps. I have always been attracted to tall, dark women, and suddenly here I was facing my dream woman who was taller and darker than any I had met before. So I fell hopelessly in love, right there on the stairs, with her soft hand in mine. I found myself thinking, as I had in my youth, That smile is going to change and that dress is coming off!’