Karin Fossum - Calling Out For You aka The Indian Bride

He got up and left. Einar stayed sitting, in shock. Dear God, he thought. What have I done?

Four officers went to Einar Sunde's house. Skarre went straight to the bedroom. A large wardrobe contained linen and towels. It was plain that some part of the contents had been taken; the wardrobe was only half full. He sorted through the piles of sheets and soon found what he was looking for. Green duvet covers with water lilies. Monet's lilies. Perhaps Gøran was telling the truth, perhaps he was here on the evening of the 20th. Or he remembered the design from some other evening, so it wouldn't be an alibi after all. But it was disturbing. They towed Einar's car away for forensic tests. They went over it with a fine-tooth comb without making a significant find. How could a walking, talking, educated human being be so indescribably stupid? Was it not evidence of supreme arrogance? Skarre thought of the beautiful nightgown, the underwear and the sponge bag which Poona had bought in Gunder's honour. He had thrown it all into the lake. What sort of man was Einar Sunde?

"The worst thing is that I believe him," Sejer said later at the office. Skarre opened a window. He sat on the windowsill smoking.

"So you'll let him go?"

"Yes."

"Gøran is still our man?"

"I'm quite sure. But he has a strong survival instinct. His physical condition helps him."

"For my part, I don't trust Lillian Sunde," Skarre said, and told him about the green linen.

"OK. So she has a set like that. He was there once and noticed it. I don't doubt that they were seeing each other. There are rumours that give it a certain credence. But he wasn't there that evening. When Ulla dumps him he leaves in a fury. He calls Lillian and she rejects him too. He still has the dumbbells in the car. Poona comes walking along the road alone. He stops and talks to her. Perhaps he offers to drive her to Jomann's house. Then he makes a pass at her and she gets frightened. His rage takes over. He never saw the suitcase. Now we know why. It was at the café. Then he kills her. He flees, panic-stricken, and changes his clothes. He simply puts back on the clothes he's worn at the gym. Comes home at 11 p.m. Tells his mother that he's been babysitting with Ulla. We know he hasn't been. The shape and weight of the dumbbells could have caused the injuries Poona sustained. The white powder is from the gym, we know of no other use for magnesium powder. He has no understanding of love. He has a woman or he hasn't. He's incapable of talking about his feelings. He is obsessed by sex and by having a woman he can show off to. He appears to be in a good mood, smiling and coping well in the circles he moves in, but I suspect that he is callous and very simple. Lacking in the ability to empathise with other people's feelings."

"You're saying he's a psychopath."

"That's your term, not mine, and by the way that's a concept I have never quite got to grips with."

"So you're going to go on wearing him down until you get a confession?"

"I'm trying to the best of my abilities to get him to a place where he understands that he has to make a confession. In order to move on."

"What if you don't get it? Do we have enough to go to court with as it stands?"

"Probably not. And that worries me."

"How is it possible to smash someone up the way the killer did without leaving any traces of himself? "

"It happens all the time."

"There are no traces of Poona in his car. Not a single fibre, not a single hair. Shouldn't we have found something?"

"She was wearing silk. It doesn't give off fibres like wool, for example. Her hair was tightly plaited."

"What did he do with the dumbbells?"

"I don't know. We found nothing on them. He has several sets. Perhaps he got rid of the ones he used to kill her. I want to talk to a number of people. Get hold of them and bring them in as soon as possible: Ulla Mørk, Linda Carling, Ole Gunwald, Anders Kolding, Kalle Moe. And Lillian Sunde." He looked at Skarre. "Anything else? Has Sara called?"

"Yes. Kollberg is still lying pretty much flat."

The dog looked up at him with sorrowful eyes when he appeared in the living room. It made a halfhearted attempt to stand, but gave up. Sejer remained standing, looking hopelessly at him. Sara came out of the kitchen.

"I suppose we have to force him a bit. As long as we keep feeding him he won't make an effort."

Together they tried lifting Kollberg to a standing position. Sara at the front and Sejer at the back. His paws skidded. But they kept supporting him. He began to whimper and collapsed. They lifted him again and the same thing happened. He was trying to please them so that they would leave him alone, but they weren't going to. They lifted him again and again. Sara found a scrap of carpet to stop him sliding. That worked. The dog's body shook as 50 kilos weighed down on its legs.

"He's supporting at least a fraction of his own weight," Sejer said brightly.

Sara wiped the sweat from her face. Her long fringe kept falling into her eyes and she began to laugh. "Come on, you fat lazy dog," she cried. Then they both laughed. Encouraged by all this good humour, Kollberg pushed himself off the ground and stood for a few seconds. Then they let go of him and he collapsed, barking cheerfully.

"Bloody brilliant!" Sara shouted. Sejer gave her a shocked look. "He's going to make it. We need more exercises for him to practise daily. We're not going to give up."

"I'll fetch a sausage," Sejer said happily and made for the fridge. Meanwhile Kollberg managed to paddle half a pace across the floor. Sejer came back with a whisky in one hand and a piece of sausage in the other. He stood over Kollberg and gave an uncharacteristically broad smile. Sara had a giggling fit.

"What's that for?" he said.

"You look like a big kid," she said. "And you haven't got a hand free so I can do with you what I like."

He was saved by the telephone. He threw Kollberg the sausage and answered it.

"They've all been contacted," Skarre said eagerly. "They'll be here tomorrow, one after the other. Except Anders Kolding."

"Explain."

"He's done a runner on his wife and everything. To Sweden, I think. Apparently he has a sister there. I wonder what this means?"

"The kid's got colic," Sejer said. "He can't take it any more."

"What a wimp! Are you saying we should let him go?"

"Absolutely not. Get hold of him."

He hung up and drained the whisky in one gulp.

"Good grief," Sara said. "That is the most indecent thing you've ever done." Sejer felt hot all over. "Dare I hope for more?" Sara smiled enticingly.

"Why would I want to be indecent?" he said bashfully.

"It can be very nice, you know." She moved closer to him. "You don't know how to do it," she said. "You've no idea what indecency is. And that's quite all right." She caressed his cheek quickly. "It really is quite all right."

Linda was lying trembling in her bed when Jacob came out to discover the slashed tyres on his car. She could see it clearly. In her mind she was there comforting him. Later on she went a step further and bought a long-bladed hunting knife. The handle was made from alder. She put it in her bedside drawer and it became so important to her that she kept opening the drawer to look at it. Time and time again she admired the gleaming steel. She tried to picture the blade covered in Jacob's blood. The image was so strong it made her feel all flushed. When he collapsed at her feet and she held him tight she would close her eyes and shut herself off from the rest of the world and the rest of her life. Live only for the second when he drew his last breath. He would look up into her eyes and perhaps in this last second he would understand everything. He had made a terrible mistake. He should have accepted her. Linda held the knife in her hands, she was already comfortable handling it. She had not set a time, but she would wait for him in the hallway.