words, just one of many. If that makes you feel better.'
'I don't need to feel better.'
Goran was strong and convincing. The smile never left his face.
'Ulla likes to stir,' he explained.
'Not according to my officer.'
'Well, he spoke to her for a few minutes. I've known her for over a year.'
'So you still maintain that you spent the evening with her?'
'Yes. We were babysitting.'
'Why would Ulla lie about this? To a police officer?'
'If he was attractive that would probably be reason enough. She goes for everyone. Wanted to appear available, I guess.'
'That's a bit cheap, in my opinion.'
'You can't have any idea what lengths girls will go to to make themselves look interesting. They'll stop at nothing. Ulla is no exception.'
'Have you been to her sister's house before?'
'Yes.' His smile broadened. 'So I can describe to you the living room and the kitchen and the bathroom. What a shame, eh?'
'How were you dressed when you left Adonis?'
'Tennis shirt. White probably. Black Levis. That's what I wear.'
'You showered after the work-out?'
'Of course.'
'Nevertheless you took another shower later on?'
Brief pause.
'How do you know that?'
'I've been speaking to your mother. You were home by 11 p.m. Went straight to the shower.'
'If you say so.'
Still he smiled. No fear or anxiety. The heavy body rested in the chair, carefully sculpted.
'Why?'
'Felt like it.'
'Your mother also said that when you came home that night you were wearing a blue T-shirt and grey jogging pants. Did you change again after your work-out?'
'My mum's memory is not all that great, in my opinion.'
'So you're the only one in the village who can think straight, is that it, Goran?'
'No. But honestly, she doesn't notice stuff like that. However, I do work out in a blue T-shirt and grey jogging pants.'
'So after you left Adonis wearing a clean white shirt and before you came home, did you change back into your sweaty work-out clothes?'
'No, I'm telling you. It's Mum who's getting it mixed up.'
'What did you wear on your feet?'
'Trainers. These ones.'
He stretched out his legs and showed him.
'They look new.'
'Not at all. They've been worn.'
'Can I see the soles?'
He lifted his feet. The soles of the trainers were white as chalk.
'Who did you call?'
'Call? When?'
'You made a call in your car. Ulla saw you.'
For the first time Goran looked serious.
'I called someone I know. Simple as that.'
Sejer considered this. 'This is your situation as of today. You passed the crime scene in your car at the crucial time. You drive a red Golf. A similar car was seen at the scene, parked on the roadside. A witness saw a man wearing a white shirt out in the meadow. He was with a woman. You're lying about where you spent the evening. Several witnesses have remarked that your face was scratched when you turned up at Einar's Cafe on the 21st, the day after the murder. Your face is still scratched. I'm sure you can appreciate that I need an explanation for this.'
'I had a fight with my dog. And I don't go around assaulting women. I don't need to. I have Ulla.'
'That's not what she says, Goran.'
'Ulla says a lot of things.' He was no longer smiling.
'I don't think so. I'll be back.'
'No. I won't have you bothering me. Sod you.'
'My only concern is for the dead woman, no-one else,' Sejer said.
'Your lot are never concerned about anyone.'
Sejer went out into the yard. He had a strong feeling that Goran Seter was hiding something. But everyone is, he thought, and it doesn't have to be a murder. That's what made this job so difficult, there was a touch of guilt in everyone, which put them in a bad light, sometimes quite undeservedly. The ruthlessness of it, digging into other people's lives, was the part of the job he most disliked. So he closed his eyes and summoned up the image of Poona's battered head.
Chapter 16
Sara was waiting for him, sitting on the sofa, with a pot of coffee ready. Kollberg his dog was lying at her feet. He was dreaming he was chasing something, his paws were twitching as though he was racing at great speed. Sejer wondered if dogs experienced the same nightmarish feelings when they dreamed, the sensation of running on the spot.
'He'll never grow up,' Sejer mused. 'He's just an overgrown puppy.'
'Maybe something happened in his childhood,' Sara laughed and poured him some coffee. 'What do you know about Kollberg's first weeks?'
Sejer thought back. 'He wasn't quick enough. Always the last one to get to the food. Pushed around by the other puppies. It was a big litter, thirteen in all.'
'Then he's been starved of attention. And you picked the puppy you ought never to take.'
He chose to ignore this. 'But since then he's had far too much. This starvation – it'll pass, surely?'
'Something like that never passes,' Sara said.
They turned off the lamps and sat in the twilight. A candle burned on the table. Sejer thought of Poona.
'Why did he destroy her face?' he said. 'What does that mean?'
'I don't know,' she said.
'There must have been a reason for it.'
'Perhaps he thought she was ugly.'
Sejer was astonished. 'What makes you say so?'
'Sometimes it's that simple. You're bloody ugly too, he thinks, his fury is provoked and he crosses a line.' She sipped her coffee. 'What do you think? Is he desperately unhappy now?'
'Not necessarily. But I'd like to think he was.'
'You're so upright,' she smiled. 'You'd like remorse.'
'In this case it would be entirely appropriate. But when we catch him he'll above all be concerned with his own survival. Make excuses for himself. Defend himself. He has rights too, he'll say.'
Sara got up and squatted on the floor next to Kollberg, scratching its back. He saw the heavy animal rock backwards and forwards contentedly beneath her hands.
