The Cruel Stars of the Night - Kjell Eriksson [96]
He broke off at once when he saw Ann, stood up, pulled out a bar stool, and made a gesture of invitation. She had certain problems getting up there in her tight skirt.
“So, here we are again,” Morgansson said in a knowing tone, after she had managed to get herself up.
Lindell looked around. There were many more customers tonight than last time. Two cooks were busy in the open kitchen and someone that Lindell assumed was new. He looked desperately young but was chopping vegetables at a frenetic pace and with a seriousness that demonstrated that he intended to make the mark.
“So are you done scoping the place out?”
A tall ungainly lug of a bartender towered over them from the other side of the counter. He would have looked rather forbidding had it not been for his eyes which revealed a more congenial personality.
“Perhaps a glass of white wine for the lady?”
Lindell got the impression that he didn’t like to be contradicted and she nodded obediently.
“This here is Tall Per,” Morgansson explained. “He graduated from Örebro Grammar School with a C in comportment.”
“But a B in organization.”
They bandied words back and forth while the Närke native poured out a glass of wine and drew a couple of glasses of beer.
Lindell smiled to herself, tasting the wine and peeking at her colleague from the side. He looked comfortable. She felt relaxed and a surge of anticipation. Her life had all too long been a series of disappointments and duties, with Erik as the only real source of happiness. Her work, which had earlier meant so much—not in terms of a career, which everyone always seemed to talk about, but rather the feeling of being able to make a difference—had slowly but surely changed character. Or was she the one who had changed?
Let it be like this for a while, she thought and took another sip of wine. When she turned to Morgansson he was looking at her.
“This feels good,” he said and Ann was pleased at the straightforward comment.
She nodded. Tall Per retreated and disappeared into the hidden regions behind the kitchen. Morgansson put the menu in front of her. She was ravenous and decided to get the gambas to start and the anglerfish as a main course.
“Great choice,” Tall Per said when she had communicated her order, and she felt as if she had finally received his approval.
They sat there for three hours. Ann called home once and everything was fine. They said almost nothing about work. In part this was because they were out in public, in part because neither one of them was interested in engaging in a form of overtime at the restaurant.
Ann told him about her background, but skipped Edvard. She imagined her colleague had heard that story anyway. When she started in on Erik, Morgansson looked more distracted.
“You don’t have any children?”
He shook his head but said nothing and Ann let the subject drop.
Charles told her about his thirteen years at the Umeå Police. They found that they had similar experiences. Both of them had come from smaller towns and ended up working in large cities.
“I felt as if I knew everyone back home in Storuman, but in Umeå I didn’t get to know very many people,” Charles said. “I don’t miss Umeå but I am homesick for Storuman.”
Ann thought about whether there was any place she missed but she didn’t think so, definitely not Ödeshög. She caught herself starting to think about Laura Hindersten but did everything to push those thoughts away.
Charles paid as he had offered to do, and Ann did not object.
When they got up from their seats she was gripped by anxiety. They hadn’t said anything about the rest of their evening. Maybe he took for granted that he was going to go home with her? He knew she had a sitter.
They walked out onto the street together accompanied by Tall Per’s thunderous thanks but then Morgansson ran back inside, said something to the owner, and returned just as fast.
“I’ve called you a cab,” he said. “I’ll pay,” he added when he saw her confused expression.
She opened her mouth to