The Man In The Window [Mannen i vinduet - no]

'Idon't know.'

'SoI've misunderstood what you said about Karsten's big problem?'-

Arvidwent quiet. He seemed befuddled.

'Whatdid you mean?' Frølich repeated.

'I meantthat… I've got myself tied in knots now. I don't want to put anyone in adifficult spot, do I? Karsten and Ingrid are good friends. The wolf in sheep'sclothing – if such a thing exists – the person who is most upset that Karstenis not the sole heir – is probably Susanne, Karsten's wife. This happens in allfamilies, though. You know…'

'Fine.'Frølich cut him short. 'But is the ownership of the shop a cut-and-driedmatter?'

'Iassume so – so long as a will does not appear, I would expect Ingrid to takeover from Reidar.'

'Willyou try to get her to agree to work with…?'

'Kirkenær.It's written as it sounds: K-I-R.'

'I'vegot it,' Frølich said with a flourish of his pen to move the man on.

'Whatwas it you asked again?'

'Whethershe would agree to what Reidar rejected – the sale of the shop.'

'Ofcourse.'

'Andhis son, Karsten?'

'Whatabout Karsten?'

'Well,he works there, doesn't he? In the shop?'

'Wehad aired the proposal with Karsten beforehand, and I believe he was happy withit.'

'Buthe would lose his job, wouldn't he?'

'It'squestionable how important the job is to him. You see, Karsten has otherambitions. He works as a writer on the side. That's what he does when there areno customers in the shop, sitting in the backroom, banging away on thetypewriter. When we talked about the sale, he was far from hostile to theidea.'

'Doyou think that was why Reidar turned down the deal? Because he wanted toprotect Karsten's interests – his son's job in the shop.'

'No,I don't think so,' Arvid said bluntly.

'Youseem very sure,' the detective said, peering up.

'IfReidar had refused for Karsten's sake, he wouldn't have made a secret of it.Reidar was not the reticent kind.'

'But whydo you think Reidar would not agree to the sale?'

'Sothat he would have one over us, I think. And because he couldn't stand the ideaof not working. That's perhaps the most important reason. Reidar never acceptedthat he was getting old. Reidar was a man who denied the existence of death.'

Frølichjotted down the last phrase and sat for a few seconds formulating his nextquestion: 'Jonny Stokmo. I've heard he was employed by the shop.'

'Heisn't any longer.'

'Hewas given the boot by Reidar. Why was that?'

'Morelike the opposite,' said Arvid with a faint smile. 'I would guess – I don'thave a clue really – but I would guess that it was Jonny being difficult. He'sa hard nut, you know. There was nothing personal between Reidar and Jonny. Theyare two proud men. It was a kind of affair of honour.'

'Butwhat did they quarrel about?'

'Godknows. I don't, anyway.'

'WasReidar the type to have lots of enemies?'

Arvidgrinned. 'If you're thinking about the business with Jonny, then it was justchildish. Reidar must have said or done something. We reckoned that time wouldpass and Jonny would come back with his tail between his legs.'

'Whyantiques?' Frølich asked politely.

'Morecoffee?'

'No,thank you.' Frølich sat looking at the man as he poured himself another port.Two curly white hairs stood out on the tip of his bluish-purple nose. Frølichrepeated the question.

'Oh,it's a long story. It started with paper.' Folke Jespersen folded his handsover his stomach.

'Paper?'

'Yes,in those days none of us had any education. Emmanuel did an apprenticeship as abricklayer. By the way, he built the house next door, which you passed as youcame up the hill. Not on his own, of course. He was just one of many. And Ibegan at a bank which disappeared long ago. Reidar was the brightest of us, buthe was the one with least education. He worked as a newspaper boy onAftenposten. As a young man, Reidar had idealistic tendencies. For a longtime he was one of those few foolish types who think they can get rich byhonest means.'

Frølichlooked up and was met by a good-natured smile from the opposite side of thetable. 'For example, it always irritated Reidar that things were thrown away,and then he found out that newspaper companies threw away those rolls of paper- that is, they had to change rolls on the presses and afterwards there were afew metres of paper left on the roll, quite a lot actually, because newspaperis so thin, of course. There was perhaps that much on the roll.' Arviddemonstrated with his fingers. 'Waste paper; a pile of excellent raw materialswhich were just chucked out.'

Frølichnodded.

Warmingto the topic, Arvid leaned forward in his chair: 'And no one gave a damn aboutthis wasted paper. Reidar got it for free; he undertook to remove it and thenewspapers were happy. And at that time, you know, paper was in short supply inmany places in the world.'

'Hesold the paper on?'

FolkeJespersen nodded. 'A business grew out of it. He earned money from waste. Thenhe moved on to antiques.'

'Whobought the paper?'

'Anyonewho needed it. There were newspaper businesses in South America, in Africanstates…'

Frølichnodded. 'But then he turned to antiques?'

'Exactly.'Arvid nodded.

'Why?'

'Well…'Arvid straightened up again. 'There were several reasons, I suppose. But themost important were financial. The paper had to be re-mounted – in other words,put on a new roll so that it could be used for newspaper production. As long asReidar got the paper free, the production and transport costs could be covered,but one day the free paper came to an end. And then there was an economicdownturn – this was before the exploitation of the rain forests. Nowadays theymake paper from eucalyptus trees in the jungle and cheap Russian timber…Anyway, it stopped.'

'Butwhy antiques?'

Arvidcocked his head.

'Why notsomething else?' Frølich asked. 'Why antiques of all things?'

Arvidshrugged and spread his hands. 'You tell me,' he said with a grin.

Frølichobserved him in silence. Arvid sipped his port and smiled behind the glass. 'Ithink, firstly, it had something to do with Reidar's love for objects, fineobjects,' he said. 'Then there was Margrethe – Karsten's mother, who died along time ago – she was a terrible snob. She liked to surround herself withbeautiful, expensive things. On top of that, Reidar had this idea of makingmoney from waste, that is, from the things that others throw away. He was aheadof his time, Reidar was. Now it's recycling and reclaiming and re-I don't knowwhat. But you're right. It must have begun with something specific. I don'tremember what. All of a sudden Reidar began to buy and sell curios, and then itturned out that all three of us were making good money out of it. But how itactually started? I do not remember.'

Frølichjotted down: Why antiques? Arvid F.J. doesn't give an answer. He chewedon his pencil thoughtfully, and asked:

'Didyou contact your brother later that day?'

'Whichbrother?'

'Reidar.Did you get in touch at any point afterwards?'

Arvidslowly shook his head.

Frølichformed a tentative smile, unsure how to express himself. 'That's a bit strange,isn't it?' he suggested in a soft voice.

'Oh?'

'Yes,he had spoiled your deal, injured your dog…'

'Ididn't contact him.'

'DidEmmanuel?'

'You'llhave to ask Emmanuel.'

Frølichobserved the man on the other side of the table. All of a sudden he seemedsulky and very distant. 'You and Emmanuel didn't hatch any other specific planswith regard to Reidar that day?'

'Whatdo you mean by hatch?'

'Imean,' Frølich said, putting his notes down. 'If I had met this kind ofresistance from my sister – I don't have a brother – I think I would have triedto talk to her. That's quite natural, I imagine.'