‘Sorry,’ said the older man, and both of them smiled as they turned to face the front.
He must have given them a real fright, because they didn’t say another word for the rest of the ceremony. It didn’t last much longer anyway. No one spoke, apart from the priest. Not like when Lasse died in a car accident two years ago; he had been one of three little boys racketing around in Godlia in the eighties. His funeral had been held in the large chapel next door, and there still wasn’t room for everyone who wanted to attend. There had been eight eulogies, and even a live band playing ‘Imagine’. A sea of flowers and an ocean of tears.
Nobody here was crying, and there was just one wreath on the coffin.
The thought brought tears to his eyes.
He should have got in touch with Niclas long ago. If it hadn’t been for the aspect of their relationship that he really wanted to forget, the aspect that had never really been his thing, he would have kept up the friendship.
Suddenly he didn’t want to be there any more. Just before the final note died away, he got up. He pushed the old, short-sighted man out of the way and yanked open the heavy wooden door.
It had started snowing again.
He started to run, without really knowing what he was racing towards.
Or from.
‘Changing the subject,’ said Sigmund Berli, before kicking off his shoes and putting his feet up on the little table between the two armchairs in Adam’s hotel room. ‘I’ve got myself a girlfriend.’
Adam held his nose, pulled a face and stabbed his index finger several times in the direction of his colleague’s feet.
‘Congratulations,’ he said, laughing behind his clenched fist, ‘but your socks stink to high heaven. Take them away! Put your shoes back on!’
Sigmund leaned forward as far as he could towards his own feet. Sniffed hard and wrinkled his nose slightly.
‘They’re all right,’ he said, settling down again. ‘I haven’t had any complaints from my girlfriend, anyway.’
‘Who is she?’ asked Adam, moving over to the bed, as far from Sigmund as possible. ‘And how long has this been going on?’
‘Herdis,’ Sigmund said eagerly. ‘She’s… Herdis is… Guess! Guess what her job is!’
‘No idea,’ Adam said impatiently. ‘Are you actually going to offer me a drink or what?’
Sigmund fished a plastic bottle of whisky out of his inside pocket. He picked up one of the glasses Adam had fetched from the bathroom and poured a generous measure before handing it to his friend.
‘Thanks.’
Sigmund poured himself a drink.
‘Herdis,’ Sigmund repeated contentedly, as if just speaking her name was a pleasure. ‘Herdis Vatne is a professor of astrophysics.’
‘Hmff…!’ Adam sprayed whisky all over himself and the bed. ‘What did you say? What the hell did you say?’
Sigmund straightened up, a suspicious look in his eyes.
‘I suppose you thought I couldn’t pull an academic? The trouble with you, Adam, is that you’re always so bloody prejudiced. You defend those Negroes to the death. Despite the fact that they’re over-represented in virtually all the crime statistics we have, you’re always going on about how difficult things are for them, and-’
‘Pack it in,’ said Adam. ‘And don’t use that word.’
‘That’s a form of prejudice, too, you know! Always thinking the best of people just because they belong to a particular group! You never think the best of anyone else. You’re sceptical about every white person we pick up, but if their skin’s just a little bit darker than ours, you start pointing out how decent they probably are, and how-’
‘Pack it in! I mean it!’ Adam suddenly sat up straight on the bed.
Sigmund hesitated, then added sullenly: ‘And you don’t believe for a moment that I’ve got a girlfriend who works at the university. You think it’s funny. That’s definitely what I call having preconceived ideas. And it’s actually quite hurtful, to be perfectly honest.’
‘Sorry,’ said Adam. ‘I apologize, Sigmund. Of course I’m very happy for you. Have you…?’ He pointed to Sigmund’s mobile phone. ‘Have you got a picture of her?’
‘You bet!’
Sigmund fiddled with his phone and eventually found what he was looking for, then held it out to Adam with a broad grin.
‘Not bad, eh? Beautiful as well as clever. Almost like Johanne.’
Adam took the phone and examined the picture. A fair-haired woman in her forties was looking back at him with a big smile. Her teeth were white and even, her nose upturned slightly in an attractive way. She must be quite slim, because even on the little display screen he could see deep laughter lines, with a furrow running from the corners of her mouth down to her chin on either side. Her eyes were blue and she was wearing just a little bit too much eye make-up.
She looked like just about any competent Norwegian woman in her forties.
‘Not bad at all,’ he mumbled, handing back the phone.
‘I was going to tell you on Saturday, before Johanne suddenly went off to bed. But then I decided to wait, because yesterday Herdis was meeting my boys for the first time. Well, it wasn’t really the first time, because her son plays hockey with Snorre. They’ve been good friends for ages. But I had to see how things went when we kind of… met up privately. All of us. I mean, I can’t have a girlfriend who doesn’t like my boys. And vice versa.’
‘So I gather it went well?’
‘Couldn’t have gone better. We went to the cinema, then back to her place for a meal afterwards. You should see her apartment! Stylish and spacious. In Frogner. I almost feel like a stranger in that part of town. But it’s lovely there, I have to admit.’
He sipped contentedly at his whisky and leaned back in his armchair.
‘Love is a beautiful thing,’ he announced solemnly.
‘Indeed it is.’
They sat in silence for a while as they worked their way through about half of their generous drinks. Adam could feel the tiredness creeping up on him as he lay there on the bed, three pillows providing a soft support for his back and neck. He closed his eyes, then gave a start as he almost dropped his glass.
‘What do you think about our woman?’ said Sigmund.
‘What woman? Herdis?’
‘Idiot. Eva Karin Lysgaard.’
Adam didn’t reply. The two of them had spent the day trying to impose some kind of system on the vast amount of documents relating to the case. Nineteen days had passed since the Bishop was stabbed to death, and basically the Bergen police were no closer to a solution. You couldn’t actually blame them, thought Adam. He was just as much at a loss. So far they and Sigmund had worked well together, with no friction. To begin with Adam had taken responsibility for interviewing the witnesses who were most central to the case, while Sigmund had acted as a link between Kripos and Hordaland police district. This was a role he fulfilled admirably. It was difficult to find a more jovial soul than Sigmund Berli. He was a strong all-rounder who could usually sort out any potential conflict before things turned serious. For the last week they had both worked in a slightly different capacity, evaluating the material gathered so far. The Bergen police were responsible for all aspects of the investigation and coordination. They operated entirely independently, while Adam and Sigmund tried to gain an overview of all the information that came pouring in.
‘I think we’ve made a mistake,’ Adam said suddenly. ‘The opposite of the mistake we usually make.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve been looking at too wide an area.’
‘Rule Number One, Adam: keep all doors open at all times!’
‘I know,’ said Adam with a grimace. ‘But listen…’
He picked up a notepad and pen from the bedside table.
