Silje Sorensen had a bad habit of interrupting, Johanne thought.
‘Of course,’ she nodded. ‘Of course you are.’
They sat like that for a surprisingly long time. In silence, each waiting for the other to say something. Johanne tried to guess how old Silje Sorensen might be. She must be younger than her, but not much. Thirty-five, perhaps. Maybe even younger. She was well-groomed and smartly dressed without seeming out of place in this environment.
Silje’s hands were slender and her nails so perfectly manicured that Johanne hid her own by putting down her cup and sliding her hands under her bottom.
‘Are you looking at hate crimes directed against one particular group, or are you looking at the bigger picture?’
Silje was leaning forward, her elbows resting on the desk.
‘The thing is,’ Johanne said, taking a deep breath. ‘I think I need to start from the beginning. Can you spare half an hour to listen to a very strange story?’
A large diamond on the ring finger of Silje Sorensen’s left hand sparkled in the bright light as she made a generous and inviting gesture.
‘Fire away,’ she said. ‘I’m all ears.’
Johanne knocked back the rest of her hot chocolate and started to tell her story, unaware that she now had a large, brown, seriously unflattering milk moustache.
Adam still hadn’t heard anything from Johanne, and it worried him. He was back in his hotel room picking up some notes he had forgotten when the temptation to lie down for a few minutes grew too much. Deep down he suspected he had left the papers behind on purpose. Lunch at the hotel was significantly better than anything the Bergen police had to offer, and since it was included in his full board he didn’t even feel guilty.
Except when it came to the chocolate pudding.
He had eaten two helpings, and a slight feeling of nausea persuaded him that he really did need just a tiny little rest. He kicked off his shoes and threw himself on the bed. It was a bit too soft, particularly lying on top of the covers, but if he could just find the right position he would fall asleep.
He didn’t want to sleep.
He wanted to get hold of Lukas.
Ever since the episode on the roof it was as if the guy was playing cat and mouse with him. Adam had decided not to disturb Astrid unnecessarily after their melancholy encounter out in Os. Therefore he had only called Lukas on his mobile, but it always went straight to voice-mail. Lukas never called him back. In the end Adam had rung the university, but they seemed to have virtually no idea where Lukas might be. He was clearly being given considerable leeway after his mother’s tragic death.
Adam’s eyes closed.
The fact that Johanne hadn’t called worried him. She had sounded so peculiar on the phone last night.
He sat up abruptly.
He didn’t have time for this.
His irritation over the Bishop’s uncooperative son made him feel wide awake.
‘You might not want to, but you’re going to have to,’ he mumbled crossly as he searched for the number of the house in Os. He keyed it in. The phone rang for so long that he was on the point of giving up when a subdued female voice eventually answered.
‘Lysgaard.’
‘Good afternoon, it’s Adam Stubo. I apologize for disturbing you on Tuesday. I hope you-’
‘It’s fine. No need to apologize. I assume you found Lukas eventually.’
‘I did, yes. But now I need to talk to him again, actually. There’s no answer on his mobile, and I wondered if you’d have any idea where he might be?’
‘He’s here.’
‘At home? At this time of day?’
‘Yes. He’s ill. It’s only a sore throat, but he’s got a temperature and… he’s really not very well at all.’
‘Oh.’
In a flash Adam saw the drenched, shivering figure of Lukas Lysgaard from two days ago in his mind’s eye.
‘Anything I can help you with?’ said Astrid.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
He could hear running water and the slamming of a cupboard door.
‘Then again, there might be,’ he said suddenly. ‘It’s just one small detail. Nothing important, really, but perhaps you could help me, then I won’t need to disturb a sick man. It’s about your mother-in-law’s… sanctuary.’
He laughed. There was silence at the other end of the line.
‘You know, the room on the ground floor where she used to go when she couldn’t sleep. The room where-’
‘I know the room you mean. I’ve hardly ever been in there. A few times, maybe. What’s this about?’
‘There are four photographs in there,’ Adam said, keeping his tone casual. ‘Two or three family photos and a portrait, as far as I remember. I just wondered who the portrait might be?’
‘The woman with…’
Her voice disappeared abruptly, as if it had been snipped off with a pair of scissors.
‘Hello?’ said Adam. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes. I don’t know who she is. I can ask Lukas when he wakes up.’
‘No, no, there’s no need. Don’t bother him with details. I’ll give him a call in a couple of days.’
‘Was there anything else?’
‘No. Say hello from me and tell him to get well soon.’
‘Thank you, I will. Bye.’
The connection was broken before he had time to say goodbye. He put down the phone and lay back on the bed, his hands linked behind his head.
At least now he knew the photograph was of a woman.
He felt slightly guilty at having deceived Astrid, but the feeling quickly disappeared when it struck him that she had probably lied to him in return. The way she had suddenly broken off in the mid-sentence suggested something had occurred to her.
Something she didn’t want to share with him.
If nothing else, it suggested he was on the right track.
The Reluctant Detective
His underpants were lying on the floor. The skid marks showed up with revolting clarity, even against the dark green cotton fabric. She grabbed the waistband between her thumb and forefinger and went into the bathroom to drop them in the laundry basket. Since he had obviously had a bad stomach, his trousers could go in there, too. They were lying just outside the closed bedroom door. She had picked up his socks on the way. With the clothes bundled underneath her arm, she quietly opened the door and went in.
The room smelled of a sick person.
Bad breath, sleep and flatulence combined to produce a stench that made her fling the balcony door wide open. She filled her lungs with fresh air a couple of times before turning to look back at him.
He was so deeply asleep he didn’t even notice the racket as she struggled with the awkward door, nor the blast of freezing cold air. The covers were moving slowly and evenly up and down, and she could see just the top
