‘I’m here about Arild Hjellestad,’ I said.

Her face went through another transformation. A few more litres of blood disappeared from her features, which were pallid and tired now and contrasted with her blonde hair. Suddenly she looked ordinary.

‘Arild? What about him?’

I was still weak at the knees. ‘Could we sit down?’ I looked around as if to emphasise that there was no shortage of seats.

She nodded. ‘You sit down. I’ll stay on my feet.’

She didn’t move, as if she were standing in defence of her chapel of darkness. In my mind’s eye I again saw the beheaded chicken and still seemed to hear the blood dripping from its neck into the oval dish. There she stood, radiating her superiority, her up there, me down here.233

I coughed. ‘I’m investigating Arild’s death … among others.’

‘Harry’s you mean?’

‘And Johnny Solheim’s. I don’t know if you’ve read the papers?’

‘I don’t read papers. I don’t need them.’

‘Well, Johnny’s dead too. He was killed last Saturday. Stabbed to death with a … knife … and…’ I came to a halt. My eyes drifted to the kitchen door for a moment. Then I met hers again. ‘I … It is a little strange, isn’t it? All these … sudden deaths connected to The Harpers.’

She looked at me, gimlet-eyed. ‘Yes. So what?’

‘Well, I was talking to Anita Solheim and was wondering if perhaps you knew anything about … these things.’

‘You’ve spoken to Anita?’

I nodded.

‘Did she tell you to talk to me?’

I nodded again.

She shook her head sadly, cast her eyes around the room, and said: ‘Why would I know anything? I haven’t seen either Arild or any of the others since the mid-seventies.’

‘Since 1975?’

‘Since October the sixteenth, 1975,’ she exclaimed with vehemence.

‘So you can pinpoint an exact date?’ I said in astonishment.

‘Yes? Anita could too, couldn’t she?’

‘No, I … She didn’t, no. Not with the same precision.’

‘But she told you what happened, did she? Who was in on it?’

I took a risk. ‘Yes, of course. But I’d still like to hear your version.’

‘My version? I wasn’t there myself. I just have it from Anita and even she…’234

‘Yes?’

‘She was out. The girls were babysitting. They came back from a gig, didn’t they. They were off their heads, right, beer and spirits and probably a few joints. Back to Johnny’s – high as kites, right.’

‘But where was Anita?’

‘Anita? Tell me, how much did she actually say? I told you the girls were babysitting, and she left when she saw how the land lay. She only just got away, she told me afterwards.’

‘And who was there?’

‘You know!’

I counted on my fingers. ‘All The Harpers?’

She nodded.

‘Jakob, Johnny, Arild and Harry. Any more?’

‘No. Yes…’ She eyed me quizzically. ‘There was a school friend they’d met. He happened to be at the gig and then…’ She stopped and looked at me suspiciously. ‘You know what? I’m beginning to think you know nothing about any of this – you’re just bluffing.’