'Yes,' he said, looking up. 'When someone is unhappy, he still hopes for something better. But when he gives up, sadness takes over.'
Sejer listened with surprise to this explanation.
'When I met Annie two years ago, she was different,' he said suddenly. 'Joking and laughing with everybody. The opposite of me,' he added.
'And then she changed?'
'All of a sudden she grew so tall. And then she became quieter. Not as playful any more. I waited, thinking that it might pass, that she'd be her old self again. Now there's nothing left to wait for.'
He clasped his hands and stared at the floor; then he made an effort and met Sejer's gaze. His eyes were as shiny as wet stones. 'I don't know what you're thinking, but I didn't do anything to hurt Annie.'
'We're not thinking anything. We're talking to everyone. You understand?'
'Yes.'
'Did Annie drink or take drugs?'
Skarre shook his pen to get the ink down to the tip.
'Don't make me laugh! You're way off the mark.'
'Well,' Sejer said, 'I didn't know her.'
'I'm sorry, but it just sounded so ridiculous.'
'What about you?'
'It would never occur to me.'
Good heavens, Sejer thought. A sober, hardworking young man with a steady job. This certainly looks promising.
'Do you know any of Annie's friends? Anette Horgen, for instance?'
'A little. But we were mostly alone. Annie sort of wanted us to keep to ourselves.'
'Why was that?'
'Don't know. But she's the one who decided.'
'And you did what she wanted?'
'It wasn't difficult. I don't care much for crowds myself.'
Sejer nodded sympathetically. Maybe they were compatible after all.
'Do you know whether Annie kept a diary?'
Halvor hesitated for a moment, stopped an impulse at the last moment, and shook his head. 'You mean one of those pink, heart-shaped books with a padlock?'
'Not necessarily. It might not have been that sort of thing.'
'I don't think so,' he muttered.
'But you're not sure?'
'Well, fairly sure. She never mentioned one.' Now his voice was barely audible.
'Do you have anyone to talk to?'
'I have my grandmother.'
'You're close to her?'
'She's OK. It's quiet and peaceful here.'
'Do you own a blue anorak, Halvor?'
'No.'
'What do you wear when you go outdoors?'
'A denim jacket. Or a padded jacket if it's cold.'
'Will you call me if there's anything you want to talk about?'
'Why should I do that?' He looked up in surprise.
'Let me rephrase that. Will you call the station if you happen to think of anything, anything at all, that you think might explain Annie's death?'
'Yes.'
Sejer looked around the room to memorise it. His eyes rested on the Madonna. It looked nicer than it had at first glance.
'That's a beautiful statue. Did you buy it in the south?'
'It was a gift from Father Martin. I'm Catholic,' he said.
Sejer looked at him more intently. There was something remote and tense about him, as if he were guarding something they weren't allowed to see. They might have to force him to open up, put him in boiling water like a clam. The thought fascinated him.
'So, you're a Catholic?'
'Yes.'
'Forgive my curiosity – but what attracted you to that particular faith?'
'It's obvious. Absolution of sins. Forgiveness.'
Sejer nodded. 'But aren't you rather young?' He stood up and smiled. 'Surely you haven't managed to commit many sins, have you?'
The question hung in the air.
'I've had a few evil thoughts.'
Sejer did a quick survey of his own thoughts. 'What you've told us will be verified, of course. We do that with everyone. And we'll be in touch.'
He gave the boy a firm handshake. Tried to give him good thoughts. They went back through the kitchen, which smelled faintly of boiled vegetables. In the living room the old woman was sitting in a rocking chair, wrapped up warmly in a blanket. She gave them a frightened look as they passed. Outside stood the motorcycle covered with plastic. A black Suzuki.
'Are you thinking the same thing I am?' Skarre asked as they drove off.
'Probably. He didn't ask us a single question. Someone has murdered his girlfriend, and he didn't seem the least bit curious. But that might not mean anything.'
'It's still strange.'
'Maybe it didn't really sink in until right now, as we drove away.'
'Or maybe he knows what happened to her. That's why it didn't occur to him.'
'The anorak we found, it would be too big for Halvor, don't you think?'
'The sleeves were turned up.'
It was late afternoon, and they needed a break. They drove back, putting the village behind them and leaving its residents to their shock and their own thoughts. In Krystallen people were dashing across the street, doors were opening and closing, phones were ringing. People were rummaging through drawers for old pictures. Annie's name was on everyone's lips. The first tiny rumours were being conceived in the glow of candles, and then spreading like weeds from house to house. Drinks appeared on the tables. A state of emergency existed on the short street.
Raymond, meanwhile, was preoccupied with other things. He was sitting at the kitchen table, gluing pictures into a book about Tommy and Tiger, and Pip and Sylvester. The ceiling light was on, his father was taking an afternoon nap, the radio was playing requests. 'And now here's one for Glenn Kare, with a happy birthday from his grandmother.' Raymond listened and sniffed at the glue stick, enjoying the delicious scent of essence of almonds. He didn't notice the man staring at him intently through the window.
Halvor closed the door to the kitchen and switched on his computer. He logged on to the hard drive and stared pensively at the rows of files: games, tax forms, budgets, address lists, a database of his CD collection, and other trivial items. But there was one other thing. A file labelled 'Annie', the contents of which were unknown to him. He sat there, staring at it while he pondered for a while. By double-clicking the mouse the files would open, one after the other, and a second later their contents would appear on the screen. But there were exceptions. He had a file marked 'Personal'. To open it he had to enter a password. The same was true of Annie's file. He had taught her how to protect it from anyone else, quite a simple procedure. He had no idea what password she had chosen or what the file might contain. She had insisted on keeping it secret, giving a little laugh when she saw his disappointment. So he'd shown her how to do it, and then he'd left and sat in the living room while she entered her password. He double-clicked anyway and immediately received the message: 'Access denied. Password required.'
Now he was going to open it. This was all he had left of her. What if there was something about him in there,
