'I'd like you to draw something for me,' he said.
'Oh no! Not on your life!'
He looked so worried that Sejer put his hand on Raymond's shoulder.
'I can't draw.'
'Everybody can draw,' Sejer said.
'Well, I can't draw people.'
'You don't have to draw any people. Just a car.'
'A car?'
Now he looked suspicious. His eyes narrowed and looked like ordinary eyes.
'The car that you and Ragnhild saw. The one that was driving so fast.'
'You keep on talking about that car.'
'That's true, but it's important. We've put out a bulletin, but no one has contacted us. Maybe he's a bad person, Raymond, and if he is, we have to catch him.'
'But I told you it was driving too fast.'
'You must have seen something,' Sejer said, lowering his voice. 'You noticed that it was a car, didn't you? Not a boat or a bike. Or a caravan of camels, for instance.'
'Camels?' He laughed heartily, making his white belly quiver. 'That would have been funny, seeing a bunch of camels going down the road! There weren't any camels. It was a car. With a ski-box on the roof.'
'Draw it,' Sejer commanded.
Raymond gave in. He sank on to a chair at the table and stuck his tongue out, like a rudder. It only took a few minutes to realise that he had been right. His drawing looked like a piece of crispbread on wheels.
'Could you colour it too?'
Raymond opened the box, carefully examined all the crayons, and finally selected the red one. Then he concentrated hard, trying not to colour outside the lines.
'Red, Raymond?'
'Yes,' he said brusquely, and kept on colouring.
'So the car was red? Are you sure? I thought you said it was grey.'
'I said it was red.'
Sejer pulled a stool out from under the table, and thought carefully before he spoke. 'You said you couldn't remember the colour. But that it might have been grey, like Ragnhild said.'
Raymond scratched his stomach, looking offended. 'I remember things better after a while, you know. I told him that yesterday, the man who was here, I told him it was red.'
'Who was that?'
'Just a man who was out walking and stopped in the courtyard. He wanted to see the rabbits. I talked to him.'
Sejer felt a faint prickling on the back of his neck.
'Was it someone you know?'
'No.'
'Can you tell me what he looked like?'
Raymond put down the red crayon and stuck out his lower lip. 'No,' he said.
'Don't you want to tell me?'
'It was just a man. And you won't like what I say, anyway.'
'Please tell me. I'll help you. Fat or thin?'
'In between.'
'Dark or light hair?'
'Don't know. He was wearing a cap.'
'Is that right? A young man?'
'Don't know.'
'Older than me?'
Raymond glanced up.
'Oh no, not as old as you. Your hair is all grey.'
Thanks a lot, thought Sejer.
'I don't want to draw him.'
'You don't have to. Did he come by car?'
'No, he was walking.'
'When he left, did he head down the road or up towards Kollen?'
'Don't know. I went in to see to Papa. He was really nice,' he said.
'I'm sure he was. What did he say to you, Raymond?'
'That I had great rabbits. And did I want to sell one if they ever had babies.'
'Go on, go on.'
'Then we talked about the weather. And how dry it's been. He asked me if I'd heard about the girl at the tarn and if I knew her.'
'What did you tell him?'
'That I was the one who found her. He thought it was too bad the girl was dead. And I told him about you, that you had been here and asked me about the car. 'The car,' he said, 'that noisy one that's always driving too fast on the roads around here?' Yes, I told him. That's the one I saw. He knew which one it was. Said it was a red Mercedes. I must have been mistaken when you asked me before, because now I remember. The car was red.'
'Did he threaten you?'
'No, no, I don't let anyone threaten me. A grown man doesn't let people threaten him. I told him that.'
'What about his clothes, Raymond. What was he wearing?'
'Just ordinary clothes.'
'Brown clothes? Or blue? Can you remember?'
Raymond gave him a confused look and hid his face in his hands. 'Stop bothering me so much!'
Sejer let Raymond sit for a moment and calm down. Then he said, in a very soft voice, 'But the car was really grey or green, wasn't it?'
'No, it was red. I told the truth, and there's no use threatening me. Because the car was red, and that pleased him.'
He bent over the paper and scribbled a little over the drawing. His lips were set in a stubborn line.
'Don't wreck it. I'd like to have it.'
Sejer picked up the drawing. 'How's your father?' he asked.
'He can't walk.'
'I know. Let's go and see him.'
He stood up and followed Raymond down the hall. They opened the door without knocking. The room was in semi-darkness, but there was more than enough light for Sejer to notice at once the old man standing next to the night table, wearing an old undershirt and underwear that were much too big. His knees were shaking perilously. He was just as gaunt as his son was round and stout.
'Papa!' cried Raymond. 'What are you doing?'
'Nothing, nothing.'
He fumbled for his false teeth.
'Sit down. You'll break a leg.'
He was wearing support stockings, and at the top edge his knees were swollen like two pale bread puddings, with liver spots that resembled raisins.
Raymond helped him get back in bed and handed him his teeth. He avoided Sejer's gaze and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes were colourless, with tiny little pupils framed by long bushy eyebrows. He put his teeth in his mouth. Sejer went over and stood in front of him, looking up at the window, which faced the courtyard and road. The curtains were drawn, letting in only a minimum of light.
'Do you watch what goes on out on the road?' he asked.
'You're from the police?'
