Karin Fossum - Calling Out For You aka The Indian Bride

"It's odd that someone can lie as still as that," he said to Karsten. "And not even blink. Imagine if she loses her voice."

"It'll just be a bit hoarse," Karsten said. "They can probably rehabilitate it."

"Everything will need rehabilitating," Gunder said sadly. "Her muscles are wasting away. They say that her body is turning soft. They say…"

"All right, all right. We'll just have to be patient. I don't want to hear any more. I don't understand a word of it anyway."

Fear crept into his voice. Karsten had not mentioned Poona at all, though by now it had leaked out who she actually was. Gunder was deeply hurt. He stood there fiddling with the curly telephone cable. Karsten didn't come to the hospital. Gunder personally was happy to sit by his sister's bedside. He spoke quietly and sombrely to her about everything that had happened. They've found her suitcase now, Marie. With her clothes. And her brother's coming. I'm so worried. I took his sister from him. True, Poona said they weren't especially close, but all the same. He advised her against going. And he was right.

He sat there, talking in this way. Thus he coped with his thoughts, one by one.

He was still on sick leave and did not want to return to work. The days came and went, sometimes Bjørnsson called to chat. He seemed perky. He had finally got the chance to show them what he was made of, now that their senior sales person was away. But Svarstad had asked for Jomann. And according to Bjørnsson had stood there gawping in the doorway when he heard the lengthy story. He had never believed that Jomann had the courage to go abroad and find himself a wife.

"In an earlier interview with one of our officers, Jacob Skarre, you stated that you were with your girlfriend Ulla on the evening of August 20th."

Sejer looked at Gøran Seter, who smiled back at him. The scratches on his face were now reduced to faint lines.

"That's correct."

"However, the interview with the young lady revealed the following: she's no longer your girlfriend and she didn't spend the evening with you. You worked out together at Adonis Studio from 6 p.m. to around 8 p.m. Thereafter she ended the relationship. At which point you drove off in anger, alone in the car. And subsequently passed Hvitemoen sometime between 8.30 p.m. and 9 p.m."

Gøran Seter's eyes widened. He was a heavily built man with blond hair with bright red stripes. His hair stood up. His eyes shone intensely. Sejer was reminded of pearls of mercury.

"So Ulla's ended it again?" He let out a bemused laugh. "She tends to do that. It happens all the time, I've stopped taking it seriously."

"I'm less interested in whether you're still in a relationship or not. You have previously stated that you were with her later that evening, at her sister's, and that's not correct."

"It is. But excuse me, why do I have to answer this?"

"We're investigating a murder. A great many people have to answer a great many questions. You are, in other words, just one of many. If that makes you feel better."

"I don't need to feel better."

Gøran was strong and convincing. The smile never left his face.

"Ulla likes to stir," he explained.

"Not according to my officer."

"Well, he spoke to her for a few minutes. I've known her for over a year."

"So you still maintain that you spent the evening with her?"

"Yes. We were babysitting."

"Why would Ulla lie about this? To a police officer?"

"If he was attractive that would probably be reason enough. She goes for everyone. Wanted to appear available, I guess."

"That's a bit cheap, in my opinion."

"You can't have any idea what lengths girls will go to to make themselves look interesting. They'll stop at nothing. Ulla is no exception."

"Have you been to her sister's house before?"

"Yes." His smile broadened. "So I can describe to you the living room and the kitchen and the bathroom. What a shame, eh?"

"How were you dressed when you left Adonis?"

"Tennis shirt. White probably. Black Levis. That's what I wear."

"You showered after the work-out?"

"Of course."

"Nevertheless you took another shower later on?"

Brief pause.

"How do you know that?"

"I've been speaking to your mother. You were home by 11 p.m. Went straight to the shower."

"If you say so."

Still he smiled. No fear or anxiety. The heavy body rested in the chair, carefully sculpted.

"Why?"

"Felt like it."

"Your mother also said that when you came home that night you were wearing a blue T-shirt and grey jogging pants. Did you change again after your work-out?"

"My mum's memory is not all that great, in my opinion."

"So you're the only one in the village who can think straight, is that it, Gøran?"

"No. But honestly, she doesn't notice stuff like that. However, I do work out in a blue T-shirt and grey jogging pants."

"So after you left Adonis wearing a clean white shirt and before you came home, did you change back into your sweaty work-out clothes?"

"No, I'm telling you. It's Mum who's getting it mixed up."

"What did you wear on your feet?"

"Trainers. These ones."

He stretched out his legs and showed him.

"They look new."

"Not at all. They've been worn."

"Can I see the soles?"

He lifted his feet. The soles of the trainers were white as chalk.

"Who did you call?"

"Call? When?"

"You made a call in your car. Ulla saw you."

For the first time Gøran looked serious.

"I called someone I know. Simple as that."

Sejer considered this. "This is your situation as of today. You passed the crime scene in your car at the crucial time. You drive a red Golf. A similar car was seen at the scene, parked on the roadside. A witness saw a man wearing a white shirt out in the meadow. He was with a woman. You're lying about where you spent the evening. Several witnesses have remarked that your face was scratched when you turned up at Einar's Café on the 21st, the day after the murder. Your face is still scratched. I'm sure you can appreciate that I need an explanation for this."

"I had a fight with my dog. And I don't go around assaulting women. I don't need to. I have Ulla."

"That's not what she says, Gøran."

"Ulla says a lot of things." He was no longer smiling.

"I don't think so. I'll be back."

"No. I won't have you bothering me. Sod you."

"My only concern is for the dead woman, no-one else," Sejer said.

"Your lot are never concerned about anyone."

Sejer went out into the yard. He had a strong feeling that Gøran Seter was hiding something. But everyone is, he thought, and it doesn't have to be a murder. That's what made this job so difficult, there was a touch of guilt in everyone, which put them in a bad light, sometimes quite undeservedly. The ruthlessness of it, digging into other people's lives, was the part of the job he most disliked. So he closed his eyes and summoned up the image of Poona's battered head.

Sara was waiting for him, sitting on the sofa, with a pot of coffee ready. Kollberg his dog was lying at her feet. He was dreaming he was chasing something, his paws were twitching as though he was racing at great speed. Sejer wondered if dogs experienced the same nightmarish feelings when they dreamed, the sensation of running on the spot.

"He'll never grow up," Sejer mused. "He's just an overgrown puppy."

"Maybe something happened in his childhood," Sara laughed and poured him some coffee. "What do you know about Kollberg's first weeks?"

Sejer thought back. "He wasn't quick enough. Always the last one to get to the food. Pushed around by the other puppies. It was a big litter, thirteen in all."

"Then he's been starved of attention. And you picked the puppy you ought never to take."