Mind's Eye by Håkan Nesser

a doctor who could write out a certificate for you right away. It would be accepted, and it wouldn’t harm your case, I can promise you. What do you say?”
    “What do you think yourself?”
    Rüger thought it over. Or pretended to do so. There was no doubt it would be very strange if he had hastened to Mitter’s cell at this time in the morning if he hadn’t already made up his mind. He didn’t want to see Mitter in the dock, it was as simple as that.
    “I want you to decline to give evidence,” he said eventually.
    Mitter went to the washbasin and stubbed out his cigarette. Stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.
    “I’m not going to refuse, Mr. Rüger. You can forget about any such possibility. You can go home and wash your hands of it.”
    Rüger sat in silence for a few seconds before responding.
    “As you wish, Mr. Mitter. As you wish. No matter what you think, I shall do the best I can for you. I’ll see you in court.”
    He rang for the warder and was escorted out. Mitter didn’t open his eyes until the cell door had closed.
             
    Ferrati was wearing glasses today. Large, round goggles with light-colored metal frames, which made him look like a newly woken lemur. Or possibly a hypnotist.
    “Janek Mattias Mitter,” he began by saying.
    Mitter nodded.
    “Will you please answer the attorney’s questions loudly and clearly,” interrupted Judge Havel.
    “I didn’t hear a question,” said Mitter.
    Havel turned to Ferrati: “Please repeat the question!”
    “Are you Janek Mattias Mitter?” asked Ferrati.
    “Yes,” replied Mitter.
    Something that could have been interpreted as a titter was audible from the public gallery and Havel hammered loudly on his desk.
    He was already annoyed. That was not a good start. Rüger blew his nose and contemplated his ballpoint pen.
    “Would you kindly tell us when you first met Eva Ringmar?”
    “That would be…in September, 1990. At the start of term.”
    “What was your first impression of her?”
    “Nothing at all.”
    “Nothing at all? Didn’t you think she was an attractive woman?”
    “Yes, I suppose so.”
    “But you can’t really remember?”
    “No.”
    “When did you start your relationship with her?”
    “In April.”
    “What year?”
    “This year.”
    “Can you tell us how it happened?”
    “We had both been on the same study course one weekend, and had talked quite a bit. I took her to the movies, and we had a few drinks afterward.”
    “And then you started your affair?”
    “Yes.”
    “You were both…single?”
    “Yes.”
    “Can I ask why you started going together?”
    “I think that is an idiotic question.”
    “All right, I’ll take it back. When did you decide to get married?”
    “In June. We moved in together at the beginning of July and got married on the tenth.”
    “Shortly before you went to Greece?”
    “Yes.”
    “A sort of honeymoon, then?”
    “If you want to call it that, yes.”
    “Why did you get married? I hope you don’t find that question idiotic as well, because I’d like an answer.”
    Mitter paused. Momentarily looked away from Ferrati and eyed the jury instead.
    “I put the question, and she said yes,” he stated.
    “Can you elaborate a little?”
    “No.”
    There was a faint murmur in the public gallery, but Havel didn’t need to intervene.
    “You have both been married before,” the prosecutor affirmed. “You meet and begin a relationship. Three months later you get married. Don’t you think that seems a little…hasty?”
    “No.”
    “You weren’t in a hurry for some specific reason?”
    “No.”
    “She wasn’t pregnant?”
    “Is that a sufficient reason nowadays?”
    “Would you please answer my question!”
    “No, Eva was not pregnant.”
    “Thank you.”
    There was a short pause while Ferrati went back to his desk and consulted some notes.
    “Mr. Mitter, how would you describe your relationship with, and your marriage to Eva Ringmar?”
    “What do