‘Good. Straight away, please. I’ll stay in my office until you get here.’
She hung up, a furrow of surprise appearing across the top of her straight, slender nose from her left eyebrow.
‘A will,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘What?’
‘A woman who is evidently the secretary at a legal practice here in the city called the information line to say that she’s sitting on a will that has Niclas Winter as the beneficiary, and that it could have some relevance to the investigation into his murder.’
‘I see… so…’
‘Fortunately the information was picked up relatively quickly, and one of my team has got hold of this woman. She’s on her way over with the will right now.’
‘But what…? If the theory about The 25’ers is correct, what would a will have to do with anything?’
Silje shrugged her shoulders.
‘No idea. But it’s on its way here, so we can have a look at it. Now, what was it you were going to tell me? Adam made me really curious, I have to admit.’
Johanne opened the bottle and poured herself a drink. The carbon dioxide hissed gently, tickling her upper lip as she drank.
‘Eva Karin Lysgaard wasn’t just sympathetic towards gays,’ she said eventually, putting down the glass. ‘She was, it appears, a lesbian herself. Which strengthens our theory about The 25’ers.’
Judging from the expression on Silje Sorensen’s face, Johanne might as well have said that Jesus had come back to earth and sat down on the bed in Kristiane’s room.
Marcus Koll sat up in bed in confusion, mumbling something that neither Rolf nor little Marcus could make out.
‘Lazybones,’ Rolf grinned, placing a tray of coffee, juice and two slices of toast topped with ham and cheese on the bedside table. ‘It’s gone one o’clock!’
‘Why did you let me sleep so late?’
Marcus moved to avoid their hugs; he was sweaty, and smacked his lips to try to get rid of the sour taste of sleep.
‘I don’t think you got a wink of sleep last night,’ said Rolf. ‘So when you finally dropped off, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.’
‘We’ve been flying the helicopter,’ little Marcus said excitedly. ‘It’s so cool!’
‘In this weather?’ Marcus groaned. ‘It says in the instructions that the temperature is supposed to be above zero when you fly it. Otherwise the oil freezes.’
‘But we couldn’t wait until spring,’ Rolf smiled. ‘And it was brilliant. I had full control, Marcus.’
‘And me!’ said the boy. ‘I can fly it all by myself!’
‘At least when it’s up in the air,’ Rolf added. ‘Here you go: today’s tabloids. That’s a terrible story – the one about that gang who’ve been murdering people! We’ve been shopping, too. Lots of good food for this evening. You haven’t forgotten we’re having guests?’
Marcus didn’t remember anything about any guests. He reached for
‘Are you ill, Dad? Is that why you slept so late?’
‘No, no. It’s just a bit of a cold. Thank you so much for breakfast. Maybe I can enjoy it and have a look at the papers, then I’ll come down in a little while?’
He didn’t even look at Rolf.
‘OK,’ said the boy, and headed off.
‘Is everything all right?’ asked Rolf. ‘Anything else you need?’
‘Everything’s fine. This is really kind of you both. I’ll be down in half an hour, OK?’
Rolf hesitated. Looked at him. Marcus forced himself to adopt an unconcerned expression and licked his finger demonstratively as he prepared to turn the page.
‘Enjoy,’ said Rolf as he left the room.
It didn’t sound as if he meant it.
‘I was really intending to speak to you alone,’ said Adam Stubo, looking from Erik to Lukas and back again. ‘To be perfectly honest, I’d be much happier with that arrangement.’
‘To be perfectly honest,’ Erik replied, ‘what makes you happy isn’t the most important thing right now.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Adam mumbled.
Erik had certainly perked up. In their earlier encounters his indifference had bordered on apathy. This time the scrawny widower had something aggressive, almost hostile about him. Adam hesitated. He had prepared himself for a conversation with a man in a completely different frame of mind from the one Erik was clearly in at the moment.
‘I’m rather tired,’ said Erik. ‘Tired of you constantly turning up here with nothing to tell us. From what Lukas tells me, there has been a breakthrough in the investigation, in which case I would have thought you might have better things to do than coming out here yet again. If you’re going to start on about where my wife was going so late at night, then…’
It was as if he had suddenly used up all his reserves of energy. He literally collapsed; his shoulders slumped and his head drooped down towards his flat, bony chest.
‘I’m not going to say anything I haven’t said already. Just so we’re clear.’
‘There’s no need,’ Adam said calmly. ‘I know where Eva Karin was going.’
Erik slowly lifted his head. His eyes had lost their colour. The whites had taken on a bluish tinge, and it was as if all the tears had washed away the blue from the irises. Adam had never seen an emptier gaze. He had no idea what he was going to say.
‘Lukas,’ Erik said, his voice steady. ‘I would like you to leave now.’
At last time could begin to move again, thought Martine Br?kke as she struck a match.
The portrait of Eva Karin, which normally stood in the bedroom where no one ever saw it, had been moved into the living room. It had been the police officer’s suggestion. He had asked her if she had a photograph. She had fetched it without a word, and the big man had held it in his hands. For a long time. He almost seemed to be on the point of bursting into tears.
She held the match to the wick of the tall white candle. The flame was pale, almost invisible, and she went and switched off the main light. She stood for a moment before picking up a little red poinsettia and placing it next to the photograph in the window. The glitter on the leaves sparkled in the candlelight.
Eva Karin was smiling at her.
Martine moved a chair over to the window and sat down.
A great sense of relief came over her. It was as if she had finally, after all these years, received a kind of acknowledgement. Until now she had borne her grief over Eva Karin’s death all alone, in the same way as she had borne her life with Eva Karin for almost fifty years all alone. When Erik turned up the day after the murder, she had let him in. She had regretted it immediately. He had come for company. He wanted to grieve with the only other person who knew Eva Karin as she really was, but she had quickly realized they had nothing in common. They had shared Eva Karin, but she was indifferent to him now, and had sent him away without shedding a tear.
The big police officer had been another matter.
He treated her with respect – admiration almost – as he walked around the small living room talking to her
