Karin Fossum - Don't Look Back

"Good observation, Raymond. Did you get that, Skarre? So your father is in bed?"

"He's waiting for his food now, I think."

"We didn't mean to hold you up. Could we peek in and say hello before we go?"

"Sure, I'll show you the way."

He walked through the living room, and the two men followed. At the end of the hall he stopped and opened a door very gently, almost with reverence. In the bed lay an old man, snoring. His teeth were in a glass on the bedside table.

"We won't disturb him," Sejer said, withdrawing from the room. They thanked Raymond and went out to the courtyard. He trotted after them.

"We might come back again. You've got nice rabbits," Skarre said.

"That's what Ragnhild said. You can hold one if you want."

"Another time."

They waved and then jolted off along the bumpy road. Sejer drummed on the steering wheel in annoyance.

"That car is important. And the only thing we've got to go on is something 'in between'. But a ski-box on the roof, Skarre! Ragnhild didn't say anything about that."

"Everyone under the sun has a ski-box on their car.

"I don't. Stop at that farm."

They drove up to the house and parked next to a red Mazda. A woman wearing a cap and gumboots caught sight of them from the barn and came walking across the yard.

"Police," Sejer said politely, nodding towards the red car. "Do you have any other cars on the farm?"

"Two others," she said, surprised. "My husband has a station-wagon, and my son has a Golf. Why?"

"What colour are they?" he asked.

She stared at him in astonishment. "The Mercedes is white and the Golf is red."

"What about the farm next door, what kind of vehicles do they have?"

"A Blazer," she said. "A dark-blue Blazer. Has something happened?"

"Yes, it has. We'll come back to that. Were you home yesterday in the middle of the day?"

"I was in the fields."

"Did you see a car coming down the hill at high speed? A grey or green car with a ski-box on the roof?"

She shrugged. "Not that I recall. But I don't hear much when I'm driving the tractor."

"Did you see anyone around that time of day?"

"Hikers. A group of boys with a dog," she said. "No one else."

Thorbjørn and his group, he thought.

"Thanks for your help. Are your neighbours home?"

He nodded towards the farm further down the road as he looked at her. Her face was one of someone who worked outdoors often, healthy-looking and attractive.

"The owner of the farm is away, there's only a caretaker there. He left this morning and I haven't seen him come back."

She shaded her face with her hand and stared in that direction. "The car's not there."

"Do you know him?"

"No. He's not the talkative sort."

Sejer thanked her, and they got back into the car.

"He had to drive up there first," Skarre said.

"He wasn't a murderer then. He might been driving very slowly, and that's why no one noticed him."

They drove in second gear down to the highway. Shortly afterwards they saw a small country shop on the left-hand side of the road. They parked and went in. A tiny bell rang above their heads, and a man wearing a blue-green nylon smock appeared from the back room. For several seconds he simply stood and stared at them with a look of horror. "Is it about Annie?"

Sejer nodded.

"Anette feels so terrible," he said, sounding shocked. "She rang up Annie today. All she heard was a scream on the other end of the line."

A teenage girl appeared and stood motionless in the doorway. Her father put his arm around her shoulders.

"We're letting her stay home today."

"Do you live next to the store?"

Sejer went over and shook hands.

"Five hundred metres from here, down by the shore. We can't believe it."

"Did you see anyone unusual in the area yesterday?"

He thought for a moment. "A group of boys came in and each bought a coke. Otherwise only Raymond. He came in around midday and bought milk and flatbread. Raymond Låke. He lives with his father up near Kollen. We don't have many customers, we're going to have to shut down soon."

He kept on patting his daughter on the back as he talked.

"How long did it take for Låke to buy his bread and milk?"

"I don't know, a few minutes. A motorcycle stopped here too, by the way. Must have been between 12.30 and 1 p.m. Stopped for a minute and then left. A big bike with large saddlebags. Might have been a tourist. No one else."

"A motorcycle? Can you describe it?"

"Oh, what can I say? Dark, I think. Shiny and impressive. He was sitting with his back to me, wearing a helmet. Sat and read something that he held in front of him on his bike."

"Did you see the number plates?"

"No, sorry."

"Do you remember seeing a grey or green car with a ski-box on the roof?"

"No."

"What about you, Anette?" Sejer said, turning to the daughter. "Is there anything you can think of that might be important?"

"I should have called her," she said.

"You can't blame yourself for this, you couldn't have done anything to prevent it. Someone probably picked her up on the road."

"Annie didn't like people to get upset. I was afraid she'd get mad if we tried to pressure her."

"Did you know Annie well?"

"Pretty well."

"And you can't think of anyone she might have met along her route? Had she mentioned any new acquaintances?"

"Oh, no. She had Halvor, you know."

"I see. Well, please call if you think of anything. We'd be happy to come over again."

They thanked them and went out, while shopkeeper Horgen disappeared into the back room. Sejer caught a glimpse of the stooped figure in the window next to the entrance.

"When he's sitting in his office he can see the road."

A motorcycle that stops and then takes off again, between 12.30 p.m. and 1 p.m. That's something we need to make note of, he thought. All right.

He slammed the door of the car. "Thorbjørn thought they went past Serpent Tarn about 12.45 p.m. when they were searching for Ragnhild. At that time, the body wasn't there. Raymond and Ragnhild saw the body at approximately 1.30 p.m. That gives us a window of 45 minutes. That almost never happens. A car drove past them at high speed just before they left. An ordinary car, sort of in between. A dirty colour, not light, not dark, not old, not new."

He slammed his hand against the dashboard.

"Not everybody is a car expert," Skarre said with a smile.

"We'll ask him to come forward. Whoever it was that drove past Raymond's house between 1 p.m. and 1.30 p.m. yesterday, at high speed. Possibly with a ski-box on the roof. We'll also put out an APB on the motorcycle. If no one comes forward, I'm going to have to put pressure on those kids about that car."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Don't know yet. Maybe they can draw. Kids are always drawing things."

Afterwards they ate in the cafeteria at the courthouse.

"This omelette is dry," Skarre said. "It was in the frying pan too long."

"That right?"

"The point is for the egg to solidify after it's on your plate. You have to take it out of the pan while it's still soft."

Sejer wasn't going to dispute this; he couldn't cook at all.

"And besides, they put milk in it. Which ruins the colour."

"Did you go to cooking school?"

"Just one course."

"Jesus, the things we don't know."

He mopped up the last scraps on his plate with a piece of bread, then carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"We'll start with Krystallen. We'll take one side each, ten houses apiece. But we'll wait until after five, when people are home from work."

"What should I be looking for?" Skarre said, checking his watch. Smoking was permitted after 2 p.m.

"Irregularities. Anything at all out of the ordinary. Ask about Annie in the past too, about whether they think she had changed. Turn on the charm, whatever you've got of it, and make them open up. In short: Get them to talk."