one.’
‘I see. Tell me about Jan Egil. What actually happened?’
Again a flicker, as though of fear, flitted across his friendly face. ‘Well, what happened? As I mentioned to you on the phone… he turned up here in May, and he’s stayed here ever since.’
‘He was supposed to be working at a car repair shop, I heard.’
‘Yes, but it went badly. He couldn’t get up early enough in the morning, and the jobs he was given there were not particularly demanding. So he took odd jobs here and there.’
‘What sort of odd jobs?’
‘Well, removals, bit of loading and unloading for transport firms
… I’m not entirely sure. Anyway, he paid his rent as regular as clockwork. There was never any trouble about that.’
‘He had contacts with the criminal fraternity, didn’t he?’
‘Who told you that?’
I shrugged. ‘Most people who’ve been inside do, don’t they?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. From that point of view, modern prisons function as first class training establishments,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘But maybe he did. I haven’t noticed anything of that kind myself.’
‘Are you here all the time?’
‘No, no. I have office hours from ten to twelve every day, and so I can be contacted if there are any problems of a practical nature — water, electricity and so on. But part of the point is that residents should manage on their own as far as possible. And I have a deal with a security firm who look in regularly to protect us against various kinds of public order offence.’
‘So you’re free for the rest of the day?’
‘If only I was! No, the rest of the day I run my other properties. Pure business, but quite profitable actually.’
‘And you’re happy doing that?’
‘Yes, but wasn’t it Jan Egil we were going to talk about, not me?’
‘Yeah, yeah. We got distracted. He’s become a father, I’ve heard.’
‘Cecilie did a good job of getting you up to speed, I can hear.’ As I reacted with no more than a nod, he went on: ‘Yes, he has, and with this Silje, whom I’m sure you remember from 1984.’
‘Goes without saying.’
‘Yes, I don’t know much more than that. They have a little boy whom social services are keeping a bit of an eye on.’
‘Have you met her?’
‘No. She’s never been here. Neither her nor the boy.’
‘And if that wasn’t enough, you had Terje Hammersten living in the house, of all people, as well.’
‘Yeah. Jan Egil showing up was a coincidence, but Terje came because he had heard I was running this place.’
‘Terje? You were on first name terms?’
He smiled in a good-natured way. ‘That’s probably something you don’t know, Varg, but… Terje Hammersten had been converted.’
‘Converted? What to?’
‘He had found Jesus, as he put it.’ ‘
Christ! Who would have thought that? Whenever I met him, he generally threatened to beat me to pulp.’
‘You know… there was a powerful personal reason. He lost his wife. Mette. I’m sure you can remember…’
‘Did they get married? Mette Olsen and him? Jan Egil’s mother?’
‘Yes, but then she died. She had cancer of the womb and it spread so fast it was impossible to operate. They treated her with cytotoxin, but she was already so weakened that the end was a foregone conclusion. It was while she was ill that he found Jesus. That was how he explained it.’
‘And they also lived in Oslo?’
‘No, in Klofta. Jan Egil was banged up in Ullersmo, and I suppose this ran through her life like a leitmotif. Wherever Jan Egil went, she followed. And up there she was given permission to visit. I think she was the only person he had left. His foster mother had been out of his life for a long time, and the foster parents had been killed — by him, if we’re to believe the court.’
‘Vibecke Skarnes lives here too — I seem to remember. At any rate she moved here after leaving prison.’
‘That’s possible but… I’ve never heard that there was any contact. But there was a relationship between Jan Egil and his real mother for the first time in their lives. It was worse with Terje. I don’t think Jan Egil could ever accept that Terje and his mother had become a couple, and even worse, when he was finally given parole, that only Terje was left. And that the mother he had got so used to as his very own was also suddenly gone. For good.’
‘When did she die?’
‘Last autumn. She was buried up there. In Ullensaker. The end of a long and tragic life. Another homeless soul,’ he said with a heavy sigh, half standing, half sitting on the edge of the desk.
‘So how did he react when he came here and found that Hammersten was living here, too?’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘I realised I would have to take the bull by the horns, so I told him straight out, in case he would prefer to live somewhere else. But he didn’t, and afterwards I introduced them to each other, made them shake hands and swear to be good neighbours. Of course I could feel there were no warm feelings between them, but I would never have guessed it would go this far!’
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
‘Not in any detail. After all, I wasn’t here when it happened. It must have been some time over the weekend. One of the other residents found him.’
‘Mm?’
‘Norvald Kristensen’s his name. He realised he hadn’t seen Terje since the Saturday. He knocked and listened at his door, which was unlocked. And when he opened… well, I can assure you, Varg, it was not a pretty sight. Norvald rang me and I drove down immediately, but I knew straightaway that I would have to call the police. There was no hope for Terje Hammersten.’
‘How…?’
‘He was lying on his back. Someone had battered his face to mush. If I hadn’t recognised his clothing and his torso, it would have been impossible to say who it was. Blood was spattered all over the floor, and next to him lay his Bible, open but face down.’ When he saw my quizzical look, he added: ‘You never saw Terje without the Bible in his hand. Every single time I dropped by to talk to him he was sitting and flicking through it. Absolutely had to read out to me a new bit of the scriptures he had found, some words, like manna, that would give him comfort and forgiveness for all the misdeeds he had committed over a long life of sin.’
‘Mm… he didn’t confide in you at all about any of these misdeeds, did he?’
‘No, but he complained a lot about what a bad father he had been to his son in Bergen. I don’t know if you remember I had some dealings with him, too?’
‘How can I forget that? That was how Hammersten got his alibi back in 1984.’
‘Yes, but you can just forget all that. Jan Egil has paid the penalty for the double murder, and now he’s got another damn murder on his hands…’
‘Are the police confident this time as well?’
His brow darkened. ‘They found a bloodstained baseball bat in his room, Varg. And the boy has vanished into thin air. At first they didn’t know about his background. But then they made a few phone calls, to Forde and Bergen, and that was when all the alarm bells started ringing. I gave them Silje’s address. He wasn’t there, either. But they’ve got a full-scale search for him under way, and it can’t be long before they catch him, I hope.’
‘Silje’s address, can I have it, too? Is her name still Tveiten?’
‘Yes. I noted it down on his registration card when he moved in. It’s always good to have tabs on… relatives.’ He turned round, pulled out a drawer from the desk and lifted out a small grey card-index box. He flicked through to a card, checked it, leaned over and passed it to me.
‘Soren Jaab?ks gate?’
