Eva Jensen looked at him. ‘At once?’

‘This minute. And you, Veum…’

‘I’m going to Lindås to talk to Ruth Solheim. But…’ I looked at my watch. ‘Not until tomorrow.’

‘And do you have any other meetings?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Who with, if I might ask?’

‘What if I visited Reb … fru … Jakob Aasen’s wife, who’s just left him and if I probed, in my own way, to see how much she actually knew about what happened?’

Vadheim flicked through the documents in front of him. ‘Jakob Aasen’s wife. What was her name again? Rebecca?’

I nodded, slowly. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Her name’s Rebecca.’

251

34

I was back in Fosswinckelsgate. Before I pressed the bell downstairs, it struck me that it was exactly a week to Christmas Eve. Somewhere in town a Santa Claus orchestra was playing carols with frozen fingers on cold brass instruments: a crazy, somewhat distant sound, like a mini-orchestra playing in a snow globe.

December had been dethroned. Behind the masks the Santa Clauses wore greedy smiles and shopkeepers stood with their hands at the ready in the cash till. And there was still a week to go until the church bells rang in Christmas, when even those of a very excitable nature would instantly be affected by the calm, the sudden solemnity, a glimpse of the sacred and the smell of pork ribs from the kitchen.

I rolled up my thoughts and stuffed them in my inside pocket. For a later time. Then I pressed the bell.

Helga Bøe came on the intercom with a voice like a rock-crusher. ‘And you would be?’

‘Veum from the other day. Is Rebecca in?’

‘No. She’s just left.’

‘And how long ago is just?’

‘This long,’ Helga said and rang off.

I stood staring at the intercom, wondering how I could most effectively destroy it when the door opened and two people came out.

Both gave a start when they saw me, as if they had been caught in the act. Berge Brevik looked at me with an apparent 252attack of acute migraine. ‘Oh, hello … Veum, isn’t it?’ he mumbled in his confusion.

Rebecca shook her head and tilted it while her mouth wore the pout that revealed she wasn’t entirely sure what to say. ‘Varg?’

I quickly looked from one to the other and opted for her. ‘I … there was just something I wanted to talk to you about, Rebecca.’

She pulled up the sleeve of her light-brown suede coat to check her watch. ‘I have to catch a bus, Varg. There’s a parents’ meeting at school.’

‘It won’t take long. I can drive you.’

‘Drive me?’

‘Yes. I have got a licence.’

Brege Brevik coughed. ‘Well, I have to be going. See you another time.’ He glanced at me and mumbled as he left: ‘I just popped by.’

We stood watching him as though we were at a cocktail party and he had suddenly left us in a hugely embarrassing situation.

‘I think I’d prefer to catch the bus, Varg.’