Further up the street one of the parking department’s cars drove slowly past, on the lookout for a last kill of the day. I took a quick look at the parking meter. Then turned on the ignition and indicated a left-hand turn.
‘How long’s this gone on for, Astrid?’
‘Since – last autumn.’
‘Before you were sixteen, then?’
She shook her head firmly. ‘My birthday’s in August!’
‘But Torild’s birthday was only now, in January.’
She shrugged.
‘Was she mixed up in all this?’
Her eyes flashed. ‘She was just as daft as me! Don’t think that just because she comes from a better-class neighbourhood… She liked it, she did! I never have.’
‘And the parties, did she go to them too?’
‘She was the worst of the lot of us!’
‘Smoked dope and took tablets?’
‘Till her eyes popped out!’
‘Why did she do it, do you think?’
‘To get her own back on her parents for what they’d done to her. No doubt about it!’
‘Done? How do you mean?’
‘When they got divorced?
The car from the parking department stood there, its engine idling, waiting for me to drive off. I waved wearily to the meter men and drove the car off up the hill. Neither of them waved back.
‘The fellow who’s in custody for her murder. Helge Hagavik. Did you know him?’
‘Haven’t a clue who he is. But I bet I know his ugly mug… I told them I’d seen her at Jimmy’s with a guy.’
I drove down into Nygårdsgaten and took the outside lane so as not to irritate any drivers behind by driving at conversation pace.
I glanced quickly sideways. ‘Do you have any suspicions, can you think why she was murdered?’
‘No! Unless she… unless it was to punish her.’
‘Quite a tough punishment in that case.’
‘You don’t have a clue what they’re capable of, guys like – Kenneth.’
‘Oh yes I do, Astrid. I nearly killed one of them myself once.’
‘One of…’
‘One of that sort.’
I drove over Gamle Nygårds Bridge and moved into the left-hand lane up towards Danmarksplass. Outside the Forum Cinema stood a group of youths about the same age as Astrid. She hardly glanced at them.
I drove along Ibsensgate up to Haukeland and from there down Natlandsveien as far as Mannsverk. There was nothing left to say.
When I’d parked in front of the tower block, I said: ‘I’ll see you up.’
‘There’s no need!’
‘No, I will anyway.’
‘OK then,’ she replied, slamming the car door hard behind her.
We went into the tower block, pressed the button for the lift and stood there waiting.
‘Would you be willing to repeat to the police everything you’ve told me this evening?’
She shrugged sulkily. ‘Maybe.’
‘We could get him put away. Do you realise that?’
A hint of fear came over her face. ‘But – what d’you think he’ll do about that, though?’
‘He won’t be able to do anything, Astrid.’
The lift came and we got into it.
She pressed the button. ‘What about when he gets out, though?’
‘We’ll get him sent down again.’
‘We’ll get him sent down again!’ she said, mimicking me. ‘By then me and Gerd’ll most likely be dead – have you thought of that, clever dick?’
‘That’s never how it turns out, you know. Mostly it’s just empty threats.’
‘Mostly, yeah. But what about the one time they’re not empty?’
Yes, what about it? Doesn’t that go for me too?
We’d reached her floor now and went out of the lift and along the outside walkway. She rang the bell herself.
‘Haven’t you got the key?’
‘Forgot it, didn’t I?’
Gerd Nikolaisen answered the door. Her lip was less swollen now, but you could still see she’d been knocked about. The swelling round her eye had gone down, but the bruising was more obvious than before, despite the thick layer of make-up.
For a moment we just stood there looking at one another.
Then Astrid exclaimed: ‘Gerd! Who was it who -?! Was it that Kenneth?’
Her mother nodded. Her face was like a rigid mask, but there were tears in her eyes, and her neck began to redden.
‘Oh, Gerd!’ She threw her arms round her.
I half-turned away, as if this was too private a matter for me to be involved in. If I looked up, I could see past Landås and up to Ulriken, where the TV mast stood like a floodlit finger pointing at all of us: Big Brother is watching you. If you step out of line, you’ll be pilloried on the News Programme.
In front of us lay Mannsverk, a district still quite well lit at eleven o’clock in the evening on a gloomy February night: a random collection of housing blocks of various types and sizes, not unlike a moraine left over from the last Ice Age, the difference being that the New Ice Age lay within us.
‘Do you still need me for anything?’ I asked.
They looked at me as though they’d forgotten I was there. Astrid’s mother said: ‘No, but thanks for – finding her.’ Her daughter just shook her head.
‘You two need to have a real heart-to-heart, about everything.’ I looked at Astrid. ‘Then I’ll tell the police what you’ve told me.’
The look on Gerd Nikolaisen’s face suddenly altered. With one movement she pushed her daughter behind her and came right out onto the walkway. ‘I don’t want the police mixed up in this, Veum! It’s private – we have our private life as well, you know!’
‘Understood, but Astrid’s just told me that -’
‘Astrid!’ She turned to face her daughter. ‘Tell him you don’t want this to go any further!’
Astrid looked hesitantly from her mother to me. ‘N-no, when you…’
‘It’s not about your private life,’ I said to her mother. ‘It’s about what your daughter’s been up to the last six months. It’s important for a murder case! It’s no good brushing it under the carpet!’
‘We’ll deny everything! We won’t say another word! Right, Astrid?’ She turned to her daughter for support.
Astrid Nikolaisen nodded feebly, shrugged her shoulders and, avoiding my eyes, went back into the flat.
Gerd Nikolaisen looked at me in triumph. ‘So that’s that!’ she said, putting an end to the matter once and for all, following her daughter and slamming the door so hard that I half expected the neighbours to come out to see what was going on. But when I came to think of it, no, they wouldn’t. This was what they were used to.
Getting into my car I looked at the clock again. Five to eleven. Fløenbakken awaited me.
I took a good look round before parking the car in front of the low-rise block Karin lived in. But I didn’t see a living soul. Not so much as a tomcat on the prowl.
Karin sat up waiting for me, frowning. Somebody or other had rung and invited her to the funeral.
Thirty-six
‘A MAN?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at me unhappily. ‘He said he was ringing from the undertaker’s, but he didn’t sound like an undertaker.’
‘Was he from Bergen?’
‘Yes. Maybe somewhere near, but I’m not certain. I mean somewhere like Kalandseidet, Arna, it was sort of – something wasn’t quite…’
‘When was this?’
‘Just now – half an hour ago.’
‘What did he say? Can you remember as near as possible?’
‘He… The phone rang, and I answered. A man’s voice asked: “Is that Karin Bjørge?” “Yes,” I said. “You’re an acquaintance of Varg Veum, aren’t you?” It gave me the shivers, Varg, I was sure something had happened! “Er, yes,” I managed to get out, “who am I speaking to?” “This is Nedre Nygård Undertakers,” he said. I nearly passed out, Varg!’