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

Ingridknitted her brows in astonishment. 'Given the boot? Are you sure? No…' Sheshook her head. 'I find that difficult to believe. But why would Reidar keepthat from me – I mean, if there was some disagreement between them?'

Frølichshrugged: 'I couldn't say.' He looked at his notes and went on. 'So, Reidararrived back just before half past seven, and what happened then?'

'Weate.'

'Whatdid you eat?'

'Reindeersteak.'

'Whatwas the atmosphere like around the table?'

'Whatdo you mean by atmosphere?'

'Well,was it as usual, open or strained?'

Ingridpaused for a couple of seconds. 'Just as usual,' she concluded. 'Most of theattention was focused on Reidar's grandchildren, of course. It was a typicalfamily meal.'

'WasJonny Stokmo's name mentioned?'

Shepondered. 'No, I don't think it was, that is… I mentioned to Reidar that he hadbeen here, that was all. But that was before we started eating.'

'Anythingbusiness-related mentioned?'

'Karstenand Reidar had their usual chat, but that was after the meal. They talkedtogether on their own.'

'Ontheir own?'

'Yes,Susanne helped me to clear the table and put things in the dishwasher. Thechildren floated around – and the two men sat on their own with a cognac. Isuppose they were talking about money or politics, that's what they usuallydo.'

'Butthe atmosphere was very relaxed, or…'

Shegave a pensive nod. 'There was one phone call, there may have been more, butReidar answered it. He seemed very angry.' 'Did you hear what was said?'

Sheshook her head slowly.

'Whenwas that?'

'Atabout half past ten, I think. Karsten and Susanne were on the point of leaving,yes, it must have been half past ten. The little one was asleep. Benjamin wasgrumpy, beyond himself. He usually goes to bed at nine.'

'Theyleft at half past ten?'

Ingridnodded. 'Perhaps closer to eleven. I didn't look at my watch, but I sat aroundin the living room and relaxed before the late-night news. I watched the newsat eleven.'

'AndReidar?'

'Hemay have been on the phone, I don't know.'

'Youdon't know what he was doing?'

'No.'

'Hadhe gone down to the shop?'

'No,he was sitting and reading or doing something else. I went to the bathroomafter the news and I heard him moving about. And afterwards I went to bed andwe talked for a bit.'

'Didhe normally go to bed after you?'

'No,in fact he didn't, and that was what we were talking about… I asked him if hewas coming to bed.' She went quiet.

Frølichwaited. She was clearly finding it more difficult to speak. A sudden, shrillelectronic sound cut through the silence. It was his mobile phone. He sent the womanin the chair an apologetic smile and searched for his phone. Ingrid dried thecorner of her eye with a finger. Frølich checked the display. It was a textmessage from Eva-Britt: Could you pick up some nice fish on the way home?He could feel his irritation mounting. The word: home. He switched offthe phone and put it in his jacket pocket. As soon as he had done that, Ingridstood up. 'Excuse me,' she said, disappearing through the door. Frølich couldhear her tearing paper off a roll. He heard her blowing her nose. Soonafterwards she returned with a handful of white tissues. She sat down with astrained smile. The rims of her eyes were red and moist. 'He said he wanted tosit up reading,' she said, fighting to hold back the tears. A teardrop found itsway to the tip of her nose. She wiped it away.

'Andyou went to sleep?'

Shenodded. 'I took a sleeping pill, an Apodorm.'

'Whywas that?'

'Icouldn't settle. I took a pill to get off.'

'Butyou woke up later in the night?'

Ingridwas staring into space.

'Youwoke up?' Frølich repeated.

'Itseems like a dream sometimes,' she said, wiping her nose again. 'Now it seemslike a dream.'

'Whatseems like a dream?'

'ThatI woke up.'

'You rangKarsten Jespersen at half past two that night,' Frølich said patiently.

'Ithought someone was in the room.'

Frølichraised both eyebrows.

'Thefloor was wet, you see.'

'Wet?'

'Yes,wet patches from melted snow, like when someone has come in without removingtheir shoes and left snow behind them. I saw it, too: the remains of the snow,the zigzag pattern, the rough pattern of a shoe sole.'

Frølichstared at her. The silence endured. The middle- aged woman sat stiffly staringin front of her. She seemed to be studying a point on the floor. Most probablyshe was contemplating something within her. She wiped tears from her noseagain. 'I was petrified,' she said. 'I've never been so frightened in my life.I was sure someone was standing there, watching me in the dark. I didn't daremove a muscle.'

Thesilence enveloped them again.

Frølich'sattention was focused on his own winter boots. The snow that tended to attachitself to the laces had melted now, and at the extreme tip of one lace a dropof water had collected but refused to let go and fall onto the floor.

'Wasanyone there?' he asked brightly.

Sheshook her head.

'Whydo you think it was wet?'

'Reidar…'she began, but stopped to fight back the tears.

'HadReidar been watching you sleep?' Frølich asked.

'Itsounds so awful when you say it… but it couldn't have been anyone else,' shesaid. 'There wasn't a sound.'

'Andyou're sure there was snow and water on the floor? It wasn't something you hadbeen dreaming?'

'Ididn't dream I wiped it up.'

'Youwiped it up? When?'

'WhenI got up.'

'Andwhen was that?'

'Itmust have been just after half two.' She blew her nose on the paper towel. 'Iwas so tired that night, and I may be mixing things up because of the sleepingpill. But I was out of my mind with fear and couldn't get back to sleep. I hadto know if there was someone in the room, so in the end I switched on thelight…'

'Isee.'

'Yes,I'd been lying there for a while – and when the light came on, it didn't seemso bad.'

'Whichlight was that?'

'Thebedside lamp. I can show you. Come…'

Shegot to her feet and Frølich followed her. There was still a strong waft ofperfume. He couldn't take his eyes off her lithe hips, and again he was struckby the gracefulness of her movements. 'Did you both sleep in the same room?' heasked, embarrassed.

'Weshare a bed. We've always shared a bed.'

Shecame to a sudden halt in the doorway to the bedroom. They collided. The contactsent an echo deep into his solar plexus, but she didn't seem to register it.

Frølichwas sweating because she was standing so close to him. He apologized with asmile and stepped forward to scrutinize the room. There was a green bedspread overthe double bed. A lush green plant stood on a pedestal beside an armchair infront of the window which let in diffuse light through white blinds. The wallswere green and a painting with loud colours adorned the wall behind thebedhead. Frølich was unable to make sense of the motif in the painting, butdiscovered that he liked it. As he viewed the painting and the high, narrowbookshelf lined with paperbacks and magazines, he felt like a voyeur,especially because he soon found himself imagining what position she lay inwhen she was reading, what nightclothes she wore, the material, the colour…

'Thatone,' she said, bringing him back to reality. On either side of the bed therewas a wooden table. On each table there was a small, round lamp with a widelampshade. She went round the bed and switched on one of the lamps. 'Likethat,' she said, standing lethargically by the large bed.

'Andthe snow?'

'Here,'she said, taking two steps forward and pointing, 'Here… and here.'

Frølichscratched his nose with the pen. 'Did you wash the floor afterwards?'

'Ofcourse.' She looked at him askance.

'Iwas just wondering if we should have carried out a forensic examination here.'

'My God,don't cordon off my bedroom,' she said in a hushed voice, alarmed.