‘Yes, well, it’s about time!’
Gunnarstranda looked the man in the eye as he flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray the child’s mother had provided.
Sensitive mouth. Suggestion of a grimace around the lips.
The police officer elected the direct approach. ‘Have you ever been in her flat?’
A hesitant silence cast a shadow over the other man’s self-assurance for a second. It was a shadow of cold calculation. For Gunnarstranda this was enough.
‘Yes.’
Gunnarstranda felt the woman’s eyes burning into his right shoulder.
‘How many times?’
This time the silence was longer. ‘I gave her a hand, didn’t I, Mia?… Helped her start her car with jump leads in the winter, there was also… well, after all, she was one of our neighbours.’
The man spread his hands as if to crave understanding.
Gunnarstranda gave a pensive nod. ‘Her flat is much smaller than this one. Would you mind if I had a little look around?’
‘I most certainly would!’
Joachim Senior’s top lip was visibly curled. Gunnarstranda took another drag of his cigarette. He looked the other man straight in the eye. ‘You are interested in having this murder cleared up, are you?’
The man glared back and snarled. ‘First of all, you kept yourselves to yourselves all yesterday morning, banging around, people and cars everywhere. Then we waited all afternoon for you. I cancelled two important appointments. At that speed you’ll have the murder cleared up some time in the next century!’
‘What’s your job?’ the policeman asked.
‘Financial consultant, auditor.’
Gunnarstranda nodded. ‘Private?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have a business card?’
With a resigned expression, the man took out his wallet and passed over a card with the stamp of his company and a colour photo. Gunnarstranda flicked it backwards and forwards between his fingers. ‘Well, herr Bjerke,’ he said, focusing on the other man’s eyes. ‘Since this flat is so private, perhaps you could tell me which of these rooms is closest to Reidun Rosendal’s?’
‘The bedroom.’
This answer came from Mia, still holding the child on her arm, with a nervous glance at her husband. ‘Our bedroom’s right above her flat, more or less,’ she continued, with a strained smile. ‘The bedroom is where you realize the walls are very thin in these old blocks.’
Gunnarstranda turned to her. ‘Saturday night, did you hear anything in particular then?’
‘No, we went to bed early, we generally do, Joachim Junior wakes up at an unearthly hour, you know, and we like to go walking on Sundays, and…’
‘Her flat was in a terrible mess, as you probably noticed,’ Gunnarstranda interrupted. ‘Perhaps it was a burglary. That kind of burglary does not necessarily make a lot of noise; on the other hand, a scuffle between the intruder and her would have made quite a racket.’
Her husband stirred with impatience. He burst out:
‘No one breaks into a house early on a Sunday morning when people are sleeping!’
Gunnarstranda turned to him. ‘It’s happened before,’ he answered, ice-cold. ‘It’s also happened that single women have been attacked and molested in their own homes, while asleep, on Sunday mornings.’
He had intended to say more. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead he addressed her. ‘And neither of you heard her coming in on Saturday night?’
‘No, it was all the same as usual.’
She spread her hands outwards.
‘And on Sunday morning?’
‘I got up at eight,’ she answered, contemplative. ‘And by then Joachim was in the shower, because you’d been out jogging, hadn’t you.’ She smiled at her husband. ‘We had breakfast and did normal things, you know what Sunday mornings are like, and… yes, we went for a walk by the river, just a little morning stroll.’
‘You said the door to the crime scene was open and banging before you found the body. Did you notice if it was banging when you went out for a walk?’
Joachim shook his head. Mia sat thinking. ‘I’m simply not sure,’ she concluded at length. ‘What I do remember is that I noticed it at once when I was washing the stairs afterwards, but perhaps that’s because Junior was standing there and it stuck in my mind for that reason, but I’m not sure.’
‘And you, herr Bjerke?’
Gunnarstranda addressed her husband. Stressed the formal tone. ‘You came back from your jog before eight?’
The man nodded, but his expression was surly.
‘How long had you been jogging?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I usually go before breakfast. After waking up. It’s a health thing.’
He cast a sidelong glance at Gunnarstranda’s ashtray on the table. ‘In contrast to certain other habits people have.’
The policeman ignored the barbed remark. ‘Did you see anyone?’
‘If I did, I don’t remember who.’
‘Was the front door locked when you left in the morning?’
‘No.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes, quite sure.’
‘Is that normal?’
The man shrugged again. ‘Sometimes it’s locked, sometimes it isn’t. I suppose it depends on who comes in.’
‘The gate outside, was that locked?’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
‘Is that usual or not?’
‘Both. That depends, too.’
Gunnarstranda rested his chin in his hands and stared at him in silence. Since that failed to have any effect, he concentrated on Mia. ‘You didn’t hear Joachim leave the flat or return?’
She glanced uncertainly from her husband to the policeman and back again. This question was uncomfortable for her.
He addressed the husband again. ‘Did you observe anyone outside the block or in the vicinity as you left the entrance?’
‘No.’
‘Or when you returned?’
‘There might have been a taxi, or a car in the street, a tram, who knows. I didn’t notice anything in particular. I was out for a run.’
‘And the door to the crime scene, was it open and banging?’
‘I’ve already answered that question.’
‘But you passed close by the door on three separate occasions in the course of the morning.’
‘Yes, that is correct.’
‘Did you go into her flat on Sunday morning?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘And did either of you hear any sounds coming from her flat Saturday night or Sunday morning?’ Gunnarstranda looked at both of them, but it was Mia who answered.
‘No.’
‘Have you ever been in her flat?’ He spoke directly to her.
Joachim answered for her. ‘No, she hasn’t.’
Gunnarstranda looked up at him from the corner of his eye. Knew instinctively his reaction was too abrupt, he could feel the anger burning in his cheeks. ‘Your wife is over eighteen years old and legally responsible for her actions. She can either speak for herself, without your help, in her own home, or in the more formal surroundings of my office where she will not be interrupted by you!’
Joachim Senior fell silent. Gunnarstranda turned back to Mia. Took a deep breath and treated her to a white smile. ‘Have you ever been in her flat?’
Even before he had finished the question she had shaken her head several times.
The inspector got to his feet and took the notebook from the table. ‘That’ll be all at this time,’ he concluded. ‘The methods employed in this case will be no different from those of others. We spread a wide net at the start of a case. For that reason we will return and focus on detailed statements later in the investigation. We are therefore dependent on the goodwill of all witnesses. It’s one of the premises of our procedure.’
He didn’t need to say any more. Neither was interested. He left. Neither of them accompanied him to the door.
4
Down on the street, he had to wait exactly four minutes before Frank Frølich came along in the patrol car, slowed and drew up in front of him.