I reached a dark staircase and squinted at the nameplate on the nearest door. Hansen.72

I went up the stairs to the right and came to the first floor.

Solheim was written in ornate letters on an oval, gilt metal plate with worn edges. It looked like something he had brought from home. And indeed he had – I remembered it.

The upper part of the door had small, frosted wire-mesh panes and through the glass I made out a flowery curtain. Everything behind it was dark.

I rang the bell. After a while I heard wary footsteps inside. Someone drew the curtain and tried to look out, at about the height of my midriff.

Then the door opened a fraction and a boy’s serious face peered up at me through the crack.

‘Hello,’ I said with a smile. ‘Is your father in?’

He shook his head. He had straight, fair hair with a fringe and delicate features that were not in the slightest bit reminiscent of his father.

‘Your mother then?’

He nodded, still as serious.

‘May I speak to her?’

He appeared to be giving that some thought. ‘I’ll ask.’ Then he closed the door.

I stood waiting, filled with unease.

The door opened again, a little wider this time. ‘Yes? What are you after?’

The woman facing me was dressed in an ochre blouse and tight blue jeans. She was quite thin, with slim arms and a bony face. Her hair had a lifeless blonde tone and there was also something lacklustre and untidy about it, as though it was a long time since she had been to the hairdresser’s. Her lips were painted a kind of blood red, and her face was so excessively made-up it was difficult not to stare.73

She might well have been alluring at one time, but now the strain had taken its toll.

It was impossible not to notice the large dark patch on one cheek. She had camouflaged it as well as she could, but it was far from invisible.

‘Actually it was Johnny I wanted to talk to. The name’s Veum. Varg Veum.’

She eyed me sceptically. From between her legs appeared the head of a two-year-old and from inside the flat I heard angry shouts indicating a disagreement between the boy who had opened the door and at least one other child.

‘What do you want?’

I smiled as persuasively as I could. ‘As a matter of fact, we’re childhood friends.’

She was suspicious. ‘And?’

‘Well, I … Where can I find him, do you think?’

‘What’s the time?’

‘Two o’clock.’

‘Then he’s probably in the shop.’

‘The video-rental shop?’

She nodded.

‘Where’s that?’

‘Down in Kringsjåveien. Towards the town.’

‘What’s it called? The shop, that is.’

‘Ecstasy,’ she answered with a shudder.

‘Ecstasy Videos?’

‘Exactly.’

I took out a business card and gave it to her. ‘If I don’t manage to find him, could you ask him to contact me? My phone numbers are on there.’

She didn’t dignify my card with a glance, but nodded and 74took it with her, apparently pleased not to be exposed to my gaze any longer.