‘What’s your role in all this? Who do you represent? We’ve received confirmation of Dagbladet’s report that you’ve sold yourself out of your own practice. As far as I know, you don’t have a job right now. You’ve moved away from home. I haven’t found out where you’re living, which means that you haven’t yet registered the move with the Population Register. That’s mandatory, you know. Within eight days.’

The sudden surge of adrenaline forced her to swallow.

The adrenal medulla, she thought, as she bought some time by lifting her mug of tea. She did not relinquish eye contact with him over the rim of the mug. Did not blink. Adrenaline is formed in the adrenal medulla from amino acids. Still did not blink. Pure biology. Relax. The veins in your skin are contracting. You’re going pale. The steam is saving you.

‘I haven’t moved,’ she said, unruffled.

Blinked. At last, controlled and natural. Her pulse rate was over one hundred, she noted, and put the mug down before the unavoidable shaking of her hands began.

She folded them and placed them on her lap.

‘No?’

Lars Winther smiled, the same crooked smile, half boyish, half ironic.

‘No. We’re just going through a bad patch in our marriage, that’s all.’

She thought the new deeds for the property in Ormsundveien couldn’t possibly have been registered yet.

It was out of the question.

‘These things happen,’ she said, returning his smile. ‘Sometimes it passes. Sometimes not. Are you married?’

‘Yes.’

‘If it’s lasted a while, then you’ll know what I mean. And instead of talking about my personal … challenges at the moment, I’m really interested in hearing what the police had to say.’

‘And as I said, I’d like to know what role you have in this case.’

The situation was at an impasse, she realized. Deadlock. She ought to get up. Leave. She ought to forget all about Lars Winther. He was dangerous, despite his blond Tintin quiff and blue eyes.

At least to Selma.

‘My role is really modest,’ she said after a pause for thought that was exactly one second too long. ‘Just a friend of the Morell family. And for that matter, a good friend of Haakon’s parents. He was my godson. From that point of view, I know too many people in this … in these cases to control my own curiosity. But I don’t have an official role.’

He nodded.

‘Jan Morell was a client of yours, I know that.’

‘Was?’

‘Yes, you’ve sold your practice, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, you’re right. He was my client. For many years. It happens that you become friends. Not the best of friends, but in this case …’

She broke off to look at her Rolex.