'The staff room,' Mai said, showing him the way. He kept his eyes lowered because he could feel that everyone was watching him. Since they had always ignored him before, he didn't know how to deal with it.
The staff room was long and narrow. They sat down in a corner with their backs to the door. Skarre looked at the young face and was seized with a keen melancholy. How many people am I going to encounter in my life, he thought, on account of some gruesome and savage murder? How will I feel about it ten years from now? What will it do to me as a person, to be constantly asking innocent people: where were you yesterday? When did you get home? And, what is your financial situation at the moment?
He took his notebook from his back pocket.
'It's certainly hot here,' he began in a cheerful manner. He looked at the red face.
'It suits me fine.' Mai said with a quick smile. 'I'm from Hammerfest. We were always freezing up there.'
Skarre opened his notebook and began. 'When did you find out that your aunt was dead?'
'My mother called me last night.'
'And what did she tell you?'
He raised his eyes towards the electric fan on the ceiling and sighed heavily. 'That someone had broken into her house and stolen all of her money, killed her with an axe, and then run off.'
'A hoe,' Skarre corrected him.
'Same difference,' he said in a low voice. 'People say that she had a lot of money.'
'What do you know about that?'
'She had half a million,' Mai replied. 'But the money was in the bank.'
'You knew about it?'
'Christ, yes. She was proud of it.'
'Did you tell anyone else?'
'Who would I tell, for example?'
'Friends. Colleagues.'
'I keep pretty much to myself,' he said simply.
'But there must be a few people that you talk to?'
'The man I rent a room from. Nobody else.'
He shifted position and gave Skarre a long look. 'You're here to interrogate me regarding the case, aren't you? Isn't that what you call it?'
Skarre put down his notebook and looked at Mai. Not for an instant had he imagined that this young man might be the murderer. That he might have killed his own aunt for her money. But his visit would be interpreted that way, and now he wondered how that must feel. Was it enough to know deep inside that your conscience was as driven snow? Or was there a nagging uneasiness in knowing that someone had contemplated the possibility? Kristoffer Mai had green eyes. They looked innocent. It struck Skarre that everyone did, everyone he had interviewed, interrogated, questioned. Maybe it was enough that at one time, in dire straits, each had entertained the thought. Halldis has lots of money, and here I am, slaving away in a kitchen, earning a miserable wage. What if?
'You visited her now and then, is that right?'
'If three times a year is now and then, the answer is yes.'
Skarre attempted a smile, to soften the next question. 'Is it a long time since you were last there?'
Mai looked out of the window and shrugged his shoulders. 'Three months, maybe. Whether that's a long time ago or not depends on how you look at it.'
'You sent her a letter? Postmarked six days ago?'
He shifted unhappily. 'That's what I've been thinking about. That in the last days of her life she was waiting for someone who never showed up.'
'Why didn't you go?'
'We had a lot of people call in sick, and I had to work extra shifts.'
'Did you ring her to say that you had been delayed?'
'No, very sadly not. I suppose I'm like most people,' he mumbled. 'I'm so busy with my own life. At least that's what I've realised now.'
Skarre recognised the feeling of guilt that always surfaced when someone died. Even if there was no good reason for it, people felt guilty.
'Do you like working here?' he asked. It seemed ridiculous to be sitting here questioning one of the few relatives the dead woman had, one of the few people who did occasionally visit her. At the same time he couldn't understand his discomfort. This was exactly what he had set out to do. Maybe I've been working too long hours, he thought, and this is the sign that I need a holiday.
'What's the name of your landlord?' he asked. 'You live in a rented room?'
'It's actually a small flat with its own entrance and bathroom. It costs 2,500 a month. But it's OK, and he's a nice man. Sometimes he makes waffles, and knocks on my door. He's rather lonely, and must be in his late sixties. Just so you know that if I had mentioned Halldis's money, he wouldn't have made it up there to the woods to steal it.'
Skarre smiled. 'I see what you mean. It's unlikely that I'll need to go and see him. Let's just say that the man has been crossed off by virtue of his age.'
As he spoke, it occurred to him that he had just made an error. Maybe the man was much younger. Maybe they spent a lot of time together. Had a drink, talked about all kinds of things. This young man from the north was lonely, hadn't managed to make any friends, but he had an aunt who lived somewhere up in the woods. And the aunt had money. It slipped out over a double whisky. Half a million. What if.
'But I'd better have his name,' Skarre said.
Mai pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket. He looked through it and then took out a receipt that he slid across the table.
'My rental payment,' he said. 'There's the name and address. Go ahead, write it down.'
Skarre's eyes widened. He almost gave away his astonishment. An address in the East End. And the name Rein.
'Excuse me,' he said in a low voice. 'There's just one small detail I need to check. You're renting from a man named Rein? Thomas Rein? Does he use the name Tommy? And could he be a little younger than you have said?'
Mai looked at him in surprise, but he was also on guard. There was a mixture of honesty and fear in his expression.
'No, he's old,' he said firmly. 'But he has a son named Tommy, and in fact my apartment belongs to him. I'm only renting it while he's away.'
'And where is he right now?'
'I don't know where. All I know is that he's away.'
Skarre tried to stay in control. Hastily he scribbled some notes, breathing as calmly and evenly as he could, striving to keep a poker face, his expression smooth and unruffled, just the way his boss always looked.
'And when did you start work yesterday?'
'At midday. And there are a good many people who can verify that. But apparently the murder occurred early in the morning, so of course I could have done it.'
His tone was insolent. He could tell that the officer was on full alert, and he was trying to defend himself against a danger that he couldn't see.
'Do you have a car?'
'An old banger.'
'I see,' Skarre said. 'Were you close to Halldis?'
'Not really.'
'But you visited her?'
'Only because my mother nagged me to. You know, because we're her heirs. But the few times that I was there, I actually had a good time. I didn't really think about it until afterwards, now that she's gone.'
'So you've never met this man named Tommy Rein?' Skarre asked.
'No. Why do you ask?'
'It's just the second to last question on my list.' Skarre said.
'Pure routine?' Mai asked.
