been inside.’
‘I’ve tried and tried, Mrs Blom,’ he says and looks down.
‘So you haven’t found anything out?’
Gronningen studies his napkin in detail. ‘Not much, no.’
‘That probably explains why Tore rang me yesterday,’ Henning says and waits for Gronningen to look up. Which he does half a second later.
‘Did he?’
‘Yes. He asked for my help. Since you’re clearly trying to help him too, I thought we might be useful to each other.’
Gronningen snorts with ill-concealed contempt.
‘I get it,’ Henning continues. ‘You don’t know if you can trust me. And no one has claimed the one-million- krone reward yet. But you can relax, Geir. I don’t give a toss about the money. I have my own reason for doing this.’
‘What reason would that be?’
‘This is how we do it,’ Henning says and waits until he has Gronningen’s undivided attention. ‘I tell you everything you want to know about me and why I’m here, and then you tell me what you know about your friend’s case. I’m interested in anyone who knew Tore. Who they were and what they stood for.’
Gronningen directs his dark-brown eyes at a floral arrangement on one of the console tables.
‘I don’t snitch on my mates,’ he says in a mournful voice that suggests that he has just betrayed a lifelong principle.
‘I’m not asking you to. All you have to do is tell me a bit about Tore and how he got on with his friends, how they treated each other. You don’t have to talk about what they got up to if you don’t want to. And just to make it clear: I’m only interested in this story. If I should stumble across anything else while I’m sniffing around I’ll leave it alone.’
Henning is surprised when he realises that he actually means what he says.
Many seconds pass without Gronningen saying anything. At regular intervals he looks at Henning before his gaze breaks away. The waiter comes over to their table. Gronningen orders a Wiener schnitzel with extra potatoes and vegetables. When the waiter has gone, Henning leans across the table.
‘My son died,’ he says, and a lump forms instantly in his throat. ‘I tried to rescue him from my flat. Somebody set fire to it.’ Henning tries to swallow. ‘Tore says that he knows something about what happened that day. He has promised to tell me what it is — if I help him. That’s the only reward I’m looking for. I’ll do anything to make Tore tell me what he knows. No matter what that is or where it takes me.’ He pauses for effect. Gronningen stares pensively at the table. ‘And it’s fine if you don’t want to help me help your friend. But I promise you, Geir, I’m not going to go away. Not now, not ever.’
Henning notices that his voice is trembling. Even so Gronningen remains silent.
‘You don’t happen to know something, do you?’ Henning continues after a pause.
‘Eh?’
‘About the fire in my flat?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you — given that you and Tore are such close friends. If Tore knows something then it’s not inconceivable that he might have told you.’
‘He didn’t.’
Henning concentrates on Gronningen’s eyes. At the other table a family erupts in a collective giggling fit. Gronningen quickly turns in their direction before resuming his study of the napkin in front of him. He picks it up and spreads it out.
‘How was he?’ he asks.
‘Tore? I don’t know. I’ve never met him so I don’t know what he was like before. And I didn’t speak to him for very long.’
‘I haven’t spoken to him for a long time.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s only allowed one visit a week and Veronica gets first pick. That’s all they’ve got, the two of them, so the rest of us tend to leave them alone.’
Henning refrains from saying anything for a while. He senses that Gronningen has started to open up.
‘It has been difficult to talk about Tore since he went to prison,’ he says. ‘Nobody really wants to, and in a way we’ve put it behind us. I’ve tried to find out where everyone was the night that Jocke Brolenius was killed, but people were either with each other or they were out of town.’
Henning nods. ‘But you knew that Tore was meeting Jocke Brolenius?’
‘Yes, several of us did. He came to the gym to work out before he drove up to the old factory.’
Henning picks up a jug on the table and fills his glass with water. He looks at Gronningen to see if he wants some and Gronningen holds out his glass without nodding.
‘Can you describe Tore to me?’ Henning asks as he pours the water. ‘I mean from a friend’s perspective?’
Gronningen sighs and starts to reminisce. Suddenly he breaks into a smile. ‘The first time I met Tore, he punched me in the face.’
‘Why?’ Henning asks, mirroring his smile.
‘Because I had just put Tore’s cousin in hospital for chatting up my girlfriend. Petter was only a boy then, so Tore had to step in. He broke my jaw.’
Gronningen touches his face and briefly strokes the beard that decorates his chin.
‘When I came to, he squatted down in front of me and said, “I look after my own. I just want you to remember that.”’
‘And from then on you were best mates?’ Henning asks in disbelief.
‘Well, not straight away. But he saw that I had what it took and that’s why he recruited me for-’
‘The enforcer business?’
‘Call it what you will. He put me up for the odd job here and there. In time, we grew to be best mates even though there were lots of contenders for that role.’
‘How come?’ Henning asks, and sips his water.
‘Tore was a popular guy. And he was feared as well. Being around Tore gave you a certain status. Everyone looked up to him. He got whatever he wanted. And I’m not just thinking of his job, but… other things.’
‘What things?’
‘One day we were watching some reality-TV show when Veronica appeared on the screen. And Tore said, “I want her!” And that’s what happened.’
Henning twirls the glass in his hands. ‘And did he get whatever he wanted in the property business, too?’
‘Yes, on the whole.’
‘Did he have any enemies in the property business?’
‘I’m sure he did, but I doubt if any of them would have gone to so much trouble to get rid of him. It would have been simpler just to have him killed.’
That sounds very reasonable, Henning thinks. Tore’s meeting with Jocke Brolenius was an internal affair which had nothing to do with his legitimate business activities.
‘I understand Tore met with some resistance when you discussed what to do about murder of Vidar Fjell?’
‘Not just some.’
‘Who shouted the loudest?’
Henning folds his hands and leans closer.
‘Irene Otnes. Vidar’s girlfriend. She made it clear that she wanted revenge, and there was no shortage of volunteers. Petter was one of them. But Tore put his foot down. All hell would have broken loose if we had picked a fight with a Swedish gang.’
‘Was anyone apart from Irene Otnes out for blood?’
‘We all were.’
