Calling Out For You aka The Indian Bride

the cold storage room – it took up so much space.'

'Go on,' Sejer said.

'I remember hearing about the murder on the radio the next day, but I didn't hear all of it. Such as the woman being foreign. It took a long time before someone stopped by and told me that the victim might be Pakistani. Or Turkish. Eventually I thought it could be her. And her suitcase was in the cold storage room. I realised the seriousness, given that she'd actually been in my cafe and we'd been alone. You could say that's when I started feeling nervous. Besides, I couldn't be sure it was her. But she hadn't come back asking for her suitcase. So I was worried. And the thing is that as time passed it got worse. Finally I knew it all. That she was Jomann's wife whom he'd met in India. And here I was with all her belongings! I thought, well, they'll catch the murderer anyway, with or without the suitcase. It wasn't going to be crucial to that investigation. So I decided to get rid of it. Who saw me?' he burst out.

Sejer tried to digest the story which he experienced as irritatingly plausible. For a long time he scrutinised Sunde's flushed face.

'Someone who wishes to remain anonymous.'

'But it must be someone who knows me! I don't understand. It was quite dark. I didn't see a soul down there.'

'Sunde,' Sejer said, leaning forward, 'I hope you realise the seriousness of this. If your story turns out to be true, you have withheld vital information in a murder investigation.'

'If it's true?' Einar spat at him. 'It's obviously true!'

'It's not obvious to us.'

'Bloody wonderful! Now you know why I didn't call! I knew it would end up like this. You throw yourselves at every scrap you can get, just like I knew you would.'

He spun round on his chair and turned his back on Sejer.

'Were you in touch with Goran Seter during the day or the evening of the 20th?'

'We don't socialise. I'm nearly twice his age.'

'But you shared something.'

Bitterly Einar understood that he was referring to Lillian. 'Not as far as I know,' he said. 'I've told you the truth. That's how it happened. I recognise now how stupid I've been, but I just didn't want to get involved.'

'That's too late now,' Sejer said. 'You're very much involved. If you'd called straightaway we could have eliminated you a long time ago. As it is, we have now to look into a number of things. Such as your car and your house.'

'No, damn it, no!' he screamed.

'Damn it, yes, Sunde. And in the meantime you'll wait here.'

'You don't mean overnight?'

'As long as it takes.'

'Hell no. I have kids and everything!'

'Then you'll have to tell them what you've just told me. The difference is that they'll forgive you. I won't.'

He got up and left. Einar stayed sitting, in shock. Dear God, he thought. What have I done?

Four officers went to Einar Sunde's house. Skarre went straight to the bedroom. A large wardrobe contained linen and towels. It was plain that some part of the contents had been taken; the wardrobe was only half full. He sorted through the piles of sheets and soon found what he was looking for. Green duvet covers with water lilies. Monet's lilies. Perhaps Goran was telling the truth, perhaps he was here on the evening of the 20th. Or he remembered the design from some other evening, so it wouldn't be an alibi after all. But it was disturbing. They towed Einar's car away for forensic tests. They went over it with a fine-tooth comb without making a significant find. How could a walking, talking, educated human being be so indescribably stupid? Was it not evidence of supreme arrogance? Skarre thought of the beautiful nightgown, the underwear and the sponge bag which Poona had bought in Gunder's honour. He had thrown it all into the lake. What sort of man was Einar Sunde?

'The worst thing is that I believe him,' Sejer said later at the office. Skarre opened a window. He sat on the windowsill smoking.

'So you'll let him go?'

'Yes.'

'Goran is still our man?'

'I'm quite sure. But he has a strong survival instinct. His physical condition helps him.'

'For my part, I don't trust Lillian Sunde,' Skarre said, and told him about the green linen.

'OK. So she has a set like that. He was there once and noticed it. I don't doubt that they were seeing each other. There are rumours that give it a certain credence. But he wasn't there that evening. When Ulla dumps him he leaves in a fury. He calls Lillian and she rejects him too. He still has the dumbbells in the car. Poona comes walking along the road alone. He stops and talks to her. Perhaps he offers to drive her to Jomann's house. Then he makes a pass at her and she gets frightened. His rage takes over. He never saw the suitcase. Now we know why. It was at the cafe. Then he kills her. He flees, panic-stricken, and changes his clothes. He simply puts back on the clothes he's worn at the gym. Comes home at 11 p.m. Tells his mother that he's been babysitting with Ulla. We know he hasn't been. The shape and weight of the dumbbells could have caused the injuries Poona sustained. The white powder is from the gym, we know of no other use for magnesium powder. He has no understanding of love. He has a woman or he hasn't. He's incapable of talking about his feelings. He is obsessed by sex and by having a woman he can show off to. He appears to be in a good mood, smiling and coping well in the circles he moves in, but I suspect that he is callous and very simple. Lacking in the ability to empathise with other people's feelings.'

'You're saying he's a psychopath.'

'That's your term, not mine, and by the way that's a concept I have never quite got to grips with.'

'So you're going to go on wearing him down until you get a confession?'

'I'm trying to the best of my abilities to get him to a place where he understands that he has to make a confession. In order to move on.'

'What if you don't get it? Do we have enough to go to court with as it stands?'

'Probably not. And that worries me.'

'How is it possible to smash someone up the way the killer did without leaving any traces of himself? '

'It happens all the time.'

'There are no traces of Poona in his car. Not a single fibre, not a single hair. Shouldn't we have found something?'

'She was wearing silk. It doesn't give off fibres like wool, for example. Her hair was tightly plaited.'

'What did he do with the dumbbells?'

'I don't know. We found nothing on them. He has several sets. Perhaps he got rid of the ones he used to kill her. I want to talk to a number of people. Get hold of them and bring them in as soon as possible: Ulla Mork, Linda Carling, Ole Gunwald, Anders Kolding, Kalle Moe. And Lillian Sunde.' He looked at Skarre. 'Anything else? Has Sara called?'

'Yes. Kollberg is still lying pretty much flat.'

The dog looked up at him with sorrowful eyes when he appeared in the living room. It made a halfhearted attempt to stand, but gave up. Sejer remained standing, looking hopelessly at him. Sara came out of the kitchen.

'I suppose we have to force him a bit. As long as we keep feeding him he won't make an effort.'

Together they tried lifting Kollberg to a standing position. Sara at the front and Sejer at the back. His paws skidded. But they kept supporting him. He began to whimper and collapsed. They lifted him again and the same thing happened. He was trying to please them so that they would leave him alone, but they weren't going to. They lifted him again and again. Sara found a scrap of carpet to stop him sliding. That worked. The dog's body shook as 50 kilos weighed down on its legs.

'He's supporting at least a fraction of his own weight,' Sejer said brightly.

Sara wiped the sweat from her face. Her long fringe kept falling into her eyes and she began to laugh. 'Come on, you fat lazy dog,' she cried. Then they both laughed. Encouraged by all this good humour, Kollberg pushed himself off the ground and stood for a few seconds. Then they let go of him and he collapsed, barking