'Yes. And a balaclava.'
'What colour, herr Klementsen?'
'Red.'
At this point Beate had stopped taking notes and soon after they were in the car on their way back to town.
'If judges and juries only knew how little of what witnesses said about bank robberies was reliable, they would refuse to let us use it as evidence,' Beate had said. 'What people's brains recreate is almost fascinatingly wrong. As if fear gives them glasses which make all robbers grow in stature and blackness, makes guns proliferate and seconds become longer. The robber took a little over one minute, but fru Brжnne, the cashier nearest the entrance, said he had been there for close on five minutes. And he isn't two metres tall, but 1.79. Unless he wore insoles, which is not so unusual for professionals.'
'How can you be so precise about his height?'
'The video. You measure the height against the door frame where the robber enters. I was in the bank this morning chalking up, taking new photos and measuring.'
'Mm. In Crime Squad we leave that kind of measuring job to the Crime Scene Unit.'
'Measuring height from a video is a bit more complicated than it sounds. The Crime Scene Unit's measurements were out by three centimetres, for example, in the case of the Den norske Bank robber in Kaldbakken in 1989. So I prefer to use my own.'
Harry had squinted at her and wondered whether he should ask her why she had joined the police. Instead, he had asked her if she could drop him off outside the locksmith's in Vibes gate. Before getting out, he had also asked her if she had noticed that Helge hadn't spilt a drop of coffee from the brimming cup he had been holding during their questioning. She hadn't.
'Do you like this place?' Anna asked, sinking back on her stool.
'Well.' Harry cast his eyes around. 'It's not my taste.'
'Not mine, either,' Anna said, grabbing her bag and standing up. 'Let's go to my flat.'
'I've just bought you a beer.' Harry nodded towards the frothy glass.
'It's so boring drinking alone,' she said and pulled a face. 'Relax, Harry. Come on.'
It had stopped raining outside and the cold, freshly washed air tasted good.
'Do you remember the day, one autumn, we drove to Maridalen?' Anna asked, slipping her hand inside his arm and starting to walk.
'No,' Harry said.
'Of course you do! In that dreadful Ford Escort of yours, with the seats that don't fold down.'
Harry smiled wryly.
'You're blushing,' she exclaimed with glee. 'Well, I'm sure you also remember that we parked and went for a walk in the forest. With all the yellow leaves it was like…' She squeezed his arm. 'Like a bed, an enormous bed of gold.' She laughed and nudged him. 'And afterwards I had to help you push-start that wreck of a car. I hope you've got rid of it by now?'
'Well,' Harry said, 'it's at the garage. We'll have to see.'
'Dear, oh dear. Now you make it sound like an old friend who's been taken to hospital with a tumour or something.' And she added-softly: 'You shouldn't have been so quick to let go, Harry.'
He didn't answer.
'Here it is,' she said. 'You can't have forgotten that, anyway, can you?' They had stopped outside a blue door in Sorgenfrigata.
Harry gently detached himself. 'Listen, Anna,' he began and tried to ignore her warning stare. 'I've got a meeting with Crime Squad investigators at the crack of dawn tomorrow.'
'I didn't say a word,' she said, opening the door.
Harry suddenly remembered something. He put his hand inside his coat and passed her a yellow envelope. 'From the locksmith.'
'Ah, the key. Was everything alright?'
'The person behind the counter scrutinised my ID very closely. And I had to sign. Odd person.' Harry glanced at his watch and yawned.
'They're strict about handing out system keys,' Anna said hastily. 'It fits the whole block, the main entrance, the cellar, flat, everything.' She gave a nervous, perfunctory laugh. 'They have to have a written application from our housing co-op just to make this one spare key.'
'I understand,' Harry said, rocking on his heels. He drew breath to say goodnight.
She beat him to it. Her voice was almost imploring: 'Just a cup of coffee, Harry.'
There was the same chandelier hanging from the ceiling high above the same table and chairs in the large sitting room. Harry thought the walls had been light-white or maybe yellow-but he wasn't sure. Now they were blue and the room seemed smaller. Perhaps Anna had wanted to reduce the space. It is not easy for one person living alone to fill a flat with three reception rooms, two big bedrooms and a ceiling height of three and a half metres. Harry remembered that Anna had told him her grandmother had also lived in the flat on her own, but she hadn't spent so much time here, as she had been a famous soprano and had travelled the world for as long as she was able to sing.
Anna disappeared into the kitchen and Harry looked around the sitting room. It was bare, empty, apart from a vaulting horse the size of an Icelandic pony, which stood in the middle on four splayed wooden legs with two rings protruding from its back. Harry went over and stroked the smooth, brown leather.
'Have you taken up gymnastics?' Harry called out.
'You mean the horse?' Anna shouted back from the kitchen.
'It's for men, isn't it?'
'Yes. Sure you won't have a beer, Harry?'
'Quite sure,' he shouted. 'Seriously, though, why have you got it here?'
Harry jumped when he heard her voice behind his back: 'Because I like to do things that men do.'
Harry turned. She had taken off her sweater and was standing in the doorway. One hand resting on her hip, the other up against the door frame. At the very last minute Harry resisted the temptation to let his eyes wander from top to toe.
'I bought it from Oslo Gym Club. It's going to be a work of art. An installation. Much like 'Contact', which I am sure you haven't forgotten.'
'You mean the box on the table with the curtain you could stick your hand in? And inside there were loads of false hands you could shake?'
'Or stroke. Or flirt with. Or reject. They had heating elements in so they could maintain body temperature and were such a great hit, weren't they. People thought there was someone hiding under the table. Come with me and I'll show you something else.'
He followed her to the furthest room, where she opened sliding doors. Then she took his hand and pulled him into the dark with her. When the light was switched on, at first Harry stood staring at the lamp. It was a gilt standard lamp formed into the shape of a woman holding scales in one hand and a sword in the other. Three bulbs were located on the outside edge of the sword, the scales and the woman's head, and when Harry turned, he could see each illuminated its own oil painting. Two of them were hanging on the wall while the third, which clearly wasn't finished yet, was on an easel with a yellow-and-brown-stained palette fastened to the left-hand corner.
'What sort of pictures are they?' Harry asked.
'They're portraits. Can't you see that?'
'Right. Those are eyes?' He pointed. 'And that's a mouth?'
Anna tilted her head. 'If you like. There are three men.'
'Anyone I know?'
Anna gazed at Harry pensively for a long time before answering. 'No. I don't think you know any of them, Harry, but you could get to know them if you really wanted.'
Harry studied the pictures more closely.
