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

Gunnarstrandastood up and paced to and fro in the small bedsit. He stopped by the window andlooked out onto the trees lining the road, their heavy, leafless branchesstretching into the air.

'Butthe forgiveness must have had something to do with her,' came the delicatevoice behind him.

ThePolice Inspector turned around.

'Ihad to forgive him on her behalf. I think he once did something nasty to her,and never managed to make amends.'

Gunnarstranda,sunk in thought, nodded. 'And the last time this happened was the eveningbefore he was killed. What was the other chunk of dialogue?'

Heturned, walked around the chair and caught her eye, but she was still lookingaway.

'Whatwas the last piece of dialogue?'

Shehesitated.

Gunnarstrandaglanced at her. 'Who was the woman on whose behalf you were supposed to forgivehim?'

Sheshook her head. 'I haven't a clue.'

Hesighed. 'Come on, you must know. You had to play someone. You're an actress.You must have asked him about the role!'

'Ireally don't have a clue who she is.'

'Butit must have been tempting to ask – a woman with long hair, the mole, and yourfigure I suppose, your features,' Gunnarstranda said and added with intrigue inhis voice, 'I'll tell you something. I've got a photo of her.'

Gro HegeWyller blenched. The look she sent the policeman was troubled, riddled withdoubt, and there was a forced rigidity about her body he had not seen untilnow.

'Youlook like her,' Gunnarstranda said without emotion. 'I noticed – at thefuneral.'

'Idon't believe you,' she mumbled and, in a rather firmer voice, re-stated herview: 'You're bluffing.'

Gunnarstrandasat back in his chair. He crossed his legs and let her uncertainty rumble aboutinside her.

'Whyshould I lie?' he said at last.

'Whereis the photo?'

Hetapped his breast pocket. 'Here.'

'Letme see then!'

Gunnarstrandahesitated.

'Aren'tI allowed to see it?'

'Whydo you want to?'

'Letme see the picture,' she repeated peremptorily.

Gunnarstrandabeamed a mischievous smile. 'Are you wondering whether you mastered the role,whether you got her likeness?'

'No,'she said with emphasis.

'Sure?'Gunnarstranda smiled coldly. 'But there were two bits of dialogue. They musthave something to do with the woman?'

'MayI see if I tell you the other line?' she cut in.

'Allright.'

'Ilove you.'

'Ibeg your pardon?'

'Thatwas the other bit of dialogue: I love you.' She sat with her eyesclosed, in another world. Again there was something about the contours of herprofile, how the light met the lustre of her skin that rendered the policemanspeechless, and he sat spellbound as she slowly opened her eyes. They exchangedglances. 'And the photo?' she asked.

Heput his hand in his inside pocket and pulled out the photograph he had found inJespersen's office. He concealed it in his hand and gave a tentative cough:'Are you sure you want to see it?'

Againthey exchanged looks. He looked into her blue eyes; for a few seconds theyrevealed a vulnerability which made him swallow hard, and he could see that shehad noticed, that she was pained by it, he noticed the moment she looked awayand whispered: 'No… perhaps it's best not to.'

Hedidn't move.

'Well,'she said in bewilderment. 'Is that it?'

'Didyou feel,' he began, running two fingers across his lips. 'Did you feelanything was different on that day?'

'Mm,it was different every single time, but he seemed perhaps a little… sad,' shefaltered.

'Sadin what way?'

'Hestarted to cry,' she said. 'Not much, a little. And that has never happenedbefore. I don't know. I think he seemed sadder than usual, quieter, a bitdistracted.'

Gunnarstrandastudied her. She was somewhere else. When, finally, she did look up, sheappeared to be emerging from water. She blinked to focus on him. 'What happenedafterwards?' he asked in a low voice, putting the photograph back in hispocket.

'Weshared a taxi.'

Gunnarstrandawaited.

'Fromthe warehouse,' she said. 'From Ensjo.'

'Whereto?'

'Here.'

'Bothof you?'

'Igot out here, he went on. Back home, I assume.'

'Whorang for the taxi?'

'Hedid.'

'Andyou didn't notice anything outside the building in Bertrand Narvesens vei whenyou came out?

Sheglanced quickly over her shoulder. 'What do you mean now?'

'Idon't mean anything. I'm asking – and your reaction tells me you did noticesomething.'

Shedidn't answer.

Thepoliceman got to his feet, pushed the table to the side and crouched down infront of the woman on the sofa. 'You have nothing to lose,' he whispered. 'Andyou have nothing to gain. Once you've said A you have to say B – that's the waythe game works. Believe me, I know the rules, I've been playing it half of mylife. Don't lie to me. Was the driver someone you knew?'

Shecast down her eyes. 'How do you mean?'

'Don'tgive me the How do you mean?' Gunnarstranda barked withirritation. 'Answer my question. Did you know the driver?'

'Icame by taxi.'

'Answermy damn question!'

'Hisname's Richard. He lives in this building – but he drives a taxi.' She added,annoyed: 'I am not lying.'

Gunnarstrandareleased a little sigh and sat back in the chair. 'Did you ask this taxi driverto take you there – to Jespersen's warehouse in Bertrand Narvesens vei – or wasit just a coincidence that his taxi turned up when you needed a lift?'

'Iasked him if he felt like taking me – he was here when Folke rang.'

'Hewas here – with you?'

'Yes.'

'Youand this taxi driver here, alone?' 'Yes.'

'Butwhy didn't you say that at once?'

'Idon't know.'

'Areyou a couple?'

'No.'

Thepolice officer regarded her with a sceptical expression.

Sheignored him.

'Richard- what's his surname?'

'Ekholt.His name is Richard Ekholt. He does the evening and night shifts. I once got alift with him and he gave me his card and I've used him a few times since -when it's hard to get hold of a taxi, late at night and so on, it's great to beable to ring someone you know. Yes, I've done it a few times. And now he's gotit into his head that he's in love.'

'Didyou see Ekholt again later that day?'

Shesaid nothing.

Gunnarstrandastroked his lips nervously. 'I assure you it is relevant to the case.'

'Somethinghappened, something which means I do not wish to meet him again.'

'Whathappened?'

'Idon't feel like talking about it.'

Gunnarstrandastudied her. 'Did he hurt you?' he asked gently.

'Notas such.'

Gunnarstrandawaited.

'Hewasn't nice – on the way there he was bad-tempered and quarrelsome – and whenwe arrived he began to paw me and tried to take my clothes off. I had to run.

It wasslippery and bloody cold.' She stared at Gunnarstranda as though she wererevisiting the scene. 'He went ballistic. I think he was jealous because heknew I was meeting another man.'

'Wheredid you go?'

'ToFolke. The key was in the postbox, as always. Fortunately I managed to unlockthe door and slam it shut before he…'

'Youweren't hurt?'

'No.I was furious though.'

'Didyou mention this incident to Jespersen?'

'Yes- it became part of the play. Forgiveness,' she said with a blank expression,looking at her desk. The policeman watched her – without speaking.

'Ihad a shock afterwards. You see, I never thought he would wait for me, but whenI came out, there he was,' she said at length. 'When Folke and I went out tothe taxi, Richard's car was in the same place. He was sitting inside and I'msure he followed us back here.'

'Howcan you be so sure?'