– What’s this about Midsummer’s Day? Roar asked.
Liss Bjerke appeared to think about it for a moment before replying: – She was going to get married.
Roar typed something. – Who to?
– Don’t tell me you don’t know who her partner is, said Liss Bjerke impatiently. – You’ve interviewed him at least three times. The irritation was back in her voice.
– Right, so that’s Viljam Vogt-Nielsen, nodded Roar.
– Mailin wasn’t the type to live with one person and make plans to marry someone else, Liss added, and Roar had to admit that she was right. He was already getting used to these sudden changes of mood in her. She was a bit temperamental, he thought; women who looked like that often were. He started asking her what she was doing in Amsterdam, but it quickly became apparent that she had no wish to talk about herself. At least not with him.
– Did you know Viljam Vogt-Nielsen previously? he asked instead.
She gave him a sceptical look, or maybe it was condescending, as though she was about to ridicule that question too, but she answered:
– I met him for the first time just after I came home. That’s more than two weeks ago.
Before he could say anything else, she said: – You want to know what I think of him, right? If I think he could have done this to Mailin.
– And do you think so?
– Even though he was at my parents’ when she went missing? Even though he and Mailin got on well together?
Her cheeks had grown slightly flushed. The way she defends her sister’s boyfriend, he thought. Check to make sure they never met before.
There was a knock on the door and Viken popped his head in. When he saw Liss Bjerke, he stepped inside. He was well dressed as usuaclass="underline" dark blue blazer and white shirt. He might have passed for some famous old crooner. He stood observing her for a few seconds.
– Viken, Detective Chief Inspector. He squeezed her hand. – My condolences, he added.
– Thank you, she said.
He carried on with a few well-chosen words, the kind of things a priest might have said, thought Roar, although Viken wasn’t subject to the same kind of censure as he had been. On the contrary, to judge by Liss Bjerke’s face, she accepted the detective chief inspector’s expressions of sympathy.
– It’s lucky you’re here, Viken went on. – I got a reply to this business of the mobile phone just a couple of minutes ago.
She looked up at him enquiringly. – Mailin’s mobile phone?
– Exactly. We’ve had an expert going over the videos. We’re very interested in trying to find out what she’s actually saying.
– It wasn’t very clear, said Liss Bjerke, suddenly keen. – And I couldn’t bring myself to play it again.
– I understand that. Viken had at once found the tone Roar had been struggling to find for almost half an hour. – And it’s not certain it would have helped you to hear it several times either. Our experts have played it over and over again, but they’re still not a hundred per cent sure.
He produced a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolded it, spread it out. – It’s particularly important for us to hear what you think it is, since the video ends with Mailin calling out your name. But let me ask you one thing first. It is of crucial importance for the investigation that none of this gets out.
Liss Bjerke leaned forward, began twining a lock of hair around her index finger. – I’ll keep it to myself.
– Good. It sounds as if Mailin says four or five words. Sand, oar – maybe or – and then fare, end, she, before she calls out Liss. Did you get that?
Liss repeated: – Sand, oar, maybe or, fare, end, she, and then Liss.
– Exactly, said Viken. – Does that mean anything to you?
He sat on the edge of the table and waited, not putting any pressure on her.
After about half a minute she said: – Can I have a bit more time?
– Of course, Liss. Take all the time you need.
Roar worked away on the keyboard. He couldn’t remember having heard Viken address a witness by their first name before.
The detective chief inspector handed her a card. – I want you to ring me if you come up with anything. Whenever it might be, do you promise me that? Even if it’s the dead of night.
She looked at the card, sat there a while fingering it. – Have you found out any more about the guy who was in her office? she asked.
Viken’s bushy eyebrows curved together above his nose. – What do you mean?
– I rang you twice and told you about a guy sneaking round in Mailin’s office the first time I went there. He ripped a page out of her diary with her appointments for the day she disappeared.
Viken looked at Roar. This visitor had been mentioned in a memorandum from the crime response unit, but nothing about any appointments book. Roar wrinkled his brow to show that this was news to him too.
– I don’t think they completely understood what you were getting at, he said tactfully. – Tell me what you saw.
Liss Bjerke gave him an exasperated look, thinking perhaps it was his fault that they’d screwed up at the crime response unit. He pretended not to notice and began to transcribe her account, word for word.
– And the initials were J. H.? he said, double-checking. – And you saw this man at Central Station a few days later?
– And at a party, in a flat in Sinsen.
– What’s the name of the person who owns this flat?
Liss Bjerke’s fingers were now no longer twining one of the reddish locks of hair but a chain she had hanging around her neck.
– I can find that out.
– Who did you go to this party with? Viken wanted to know.
She gave the names of some girlfriends and a couple of professional footballers. Roar had the strong impression she was sifting through the information before she handed it on to them, and it gave him some idea of the sort of thing that had been going on in the Sinsen apartment.
– So you live in Amsterdam, Viken remarked once they had made a record of what Liss Bjerke had to tell them, or was prepared to tell them. – A lovely city.
She glanced over at him. – Does that have anything to do with the case?
Viken spread his hands wide. – Everything has to do with everything. What do you do over there?
She sat up straight in her chair, crossed one leg over the other. – Study design.
Viken said: – I’ve also heard it rumoured you’re a model.
Roar saw how her eyes widened.
– Is this part of the interview?
– Not exactly. But every witness has more to tell us than they themselves realise.
– What the fuck do you mean by that? She jumped to her feet. – I’m here so that you can find out what happened to my sister, what sort of sick bastard it was who tortured and killed her. What I do has no connection with the case at all.
For a few moments she stood there looking at a point somewhere between the two policemen. Then she turned on her heel, let herself out and was gone before they had a chance to say anything. On the floor beside the chair lay Viken’s card, squashed into a ball.
Viken was still there when Roar returned after a vain attempt to get the witness to come back and finish the interview. He was standing by the desk reading through what Roar had typed in.
– That’s one genuinely unstable young lady, Roar remarked. – The same thing happened when I asked her about Amsterdam. She clammed up completely.
Viken thought about it. – Don’t forget what she’s been through, he said forgivingly. – You’ll have to get her back in here so she can sign your witness statement. And we need her to help us find out about this guy sneaking around in the office.