Gunder thought about it he could not remember a single previous occasion on which he had spoken to a police officer. Until that grumpy fellow out at Hvitemoen. But these two were pleasant. The young one was open and gentle, the older one courteous and reserved. He had never been to the police station either. They took the lift. Gunder thought of Karsten and hoped that he had managed to get some sleep. I have to get back to work, he thought. This mess cannot go on.
They were in Sejer's office. He switched on a lamp and pressed a number on his telephone.
'We're here. You can come up.'
He showed Gunder to a chair. Gunder felt the enormous gravity in the room; he looked at the door, to that which was approaching. It is only some jewellery. He forgot to breathe. Did not quite understand this tension simply because he was being asked to look at a few pieces of jewellery and say that he had never seen them before. Never. The younger one offered to take his jacket, but Gunder wanted to keep it on. A woman police officer came in. Gunder noticed her shoulders, which seemed broad because of the epaulettes. She wore thick- soled black shoes with laces. In her hand she held a brown paper bag and a long yellow envelope. The paper bag was large enough to hold a loaf of bread, Gunder thought. What was this? She put these items on the desk and went out again. What was in the long envelope? In the brown bag? What were they thinking of him? What was the real reason they had come for him? He felt dizzy. Only the desk lamp was on; it threw a harsh light on to the surface of the desk, lit up the inspector's blotting pad, with its map of the world. Sejer pushed the blotter to one side; it stuck to the surface and there was a painful tearing noise as he tugged it loose. Then he picked up the envelope, which was fastened with a paper clip. Gunder's heart was pounding. All sound in the room ebbed away, only his heartbeat remained. Sejer tipped up the yellow envelope and there was a faint jingling sound as the jewellery spilled on to his desk. It settled and sparkled in the lamplight. An earring with a small ball. It did in fact resemble a pair which Poona had worn one day when they were out together. Two tiny rings, quite anonymous, and a large red band, a hair band probably. But then something else… partly hidden by the rings and other things. A beautiful filigree brooch. Gunder gasped. Sejer raised his head and looked at him.
'Do you recognise this?'
Gunder closed his eyes, but he could still see the brooch. He saw every detail of it because he had looked at it so many times. But then he told himself that many more exactly like it must have been made. So why should this one just happen to belong to Poona?
'It's impossible to say for certain,' said Gunder hoarsely. 'Brooches can be so alike.'
Sejer nodded. 'I understand, but can you eliminate it for us? Can you say that this one is definitely not the one you gave to your wife?'
'No.' He coughed into his palms. 'I suppose it does look like it. Perhaps.'
Skarre nodded silently and caught his boss's eye.
'The woman in question,' Sejer said, 'is, as far as we can ascertain, from India.'
'I understand that you think it's her,' Gunder said in a firmer voice. 'There's no other way. I guess I'll have to see her. The victim. So we can finish this once and for all.' His voice was now so distorted by his irregular breathing that it came out in a rasping staccato.
'I'm sorry. That won't be possible.'
'Why not?' Gunder said, surprised.
'It's not possible to identify her.'
'Oh, you don't understand what I mean,' Gunder said nervously. 'If she's my wife, then I'll know at once. And if she's not then I'll know that too.'
'It's not that,' Sejer said. He looked towards Skarre as if he was asking for help.
'She's very hard to recognise after what's happened to her,' Skarre said carefully.
'What do you mean, hard to recognise?'
Gunder remained sitting, staring at his lap. Finally he grasped what they were telling him.
'But how else will we know?' His eyes were wide with fear.
'The brooch,' Sejer said. 'Is this the brooch you gave to your wife?'
Gunder began to sway in his chair.
'If you think it is, then we have to contact her brother in New Delhi and ask for his help. We haven't found her papers. But perhaps you know the name of her dentist?'
'I don't think she went to the dentist that often,' Gunder said miserably.
'How about other distinctive features?' Sejer said. 'Beauty spots or birthmarks. Did she have any of those?'
Gunder swallowed. She had a scar. She had once had a glass splinter removed from her shoulder and she had a fine, narrow scar paler than the rest of her skin. On her left shoulder. She had had four stitches. Gunder sat thinking of this, but he said nothing.
'Scars, for example?' the inspector said. Again he looked intently at Gunder. 'The victim had a scar on her left shoulder.'
It was at this point that Gunder snapped. 'But the suitcase?' he cried out. 'You don't travel from India to Norway without a suitcase!'
'We haven't found a suitcase yet,' Sejer said. 'The assailant must have got rid of it. But she did have a bag. It is quite distinctive.'
He began opening the paper bag. Slowly the yellow bag appeared. Sejer gave thanks to an otherwise cruel fate. The bag was clean, not bloodstained.
'Jomann,' Sejer said. 'Is this your wife's bag?' Gunder had been holding on, hoping against hope for so long. It felt strange, almost good, to let himself fall.
Chapter 9
The image of the broken man haunted Sejer. The instant when he finally gave up. His voice as he begged and pleaded to see his dead wife. I must have rights, Jomann had said. Can you really deny me those?
He could not. Only ask him to spare himself. She would not have wanted you to see her like this, he said. Gunder was a shadow of his former self as he walked down the corridor. A woman police officer would drive him home. To an empty house. How he had waited for her! Bursting with excitement like a little kid. Sejer thought of the marriage certificate which he had proudly shown them. This vital document, proof of his new state.
'Her name is Poona Bai,' Sejer said later on, standing in the open doorway to the duty office. 'From India. Here in Norway for the first time.'
Soot, who was manning the telephone, looked up at him, wide-eyed.
'Are we going public with this?'
'No. We don't have any documentation. But there's a man in Elvestad waiting for her. They were married in India on August 4th. She was on her way to join him.' He leaned forward to read the screen. 'What have you got there?'
'A young woman,' said Soot excitedly. 'Just called. You've got to get over there. Linda Carling. Aged sixteen. Cycled past Hvitemoen on the 20th, just after 9 p.m. A red car was parked at the side of the road and a man and a woman were up to something in the meadow.'
'Up to…?' Sejer said. He was instantly alert.
'She had a hard time finding the right words,' Soot said. 'Her impression was that they were about to have sex. They were running after each other, as though they were playing. Then they fell over in the grass. Later on she realised that she might have seen the victim and the killer, that they might have had sex first and he'd killed her afterwards. Neither of them saw her go by.'
'There was no sexual intercourse,' Sejer said brusquely. 'Mind you, he might have tried it. What about the car?'
He was unaware that he had clenched his fists.
'A red car. And the red is interesting,' Soot said. 'Karlsen came in. A man in a red Volvo parked by the scene of the crime yesterday evening. Just sat there. They took his details, in case. He was acting strangely.'
'What was his name?' Sejer said.
