‘Sleeping, mostly,’ Lindgren said. ‘At least when I’ve been around. He hasn’t said much. I’ve never seen him like this before.’

Yngve stood up and turned to Lindgren. ‘How do you mean?’

Lindgren seemed to think about his response. ‘He’s been so … down, you know? At rock bottom. It was almost as if he was avoiding me when he was around.’

‘Was he like that before his daughter was murdered, too?’

‘Not in the same way, perhaps, but he certainly was in a dark place before that happened as well.’

‘He must have said something to you about why he needed to sleep in your guest room – why he’d left home.’

‘Not much, no,’ Lindgren said. ‘He made it clear from the start that he didn’t want to talk about it.’

Yngve noticed some blood stains on the sheets as well.

‘But I’ve been a bit worried about him,’ Lindgren continued. ‘Before I saw that, I mean.’ He pointed at the T-shirt.

‘What’s been making you worry?’

He waited a beat before replying. ‘Frode and me, we come from a family where problems aren’t usually addressed. We don’t talk. We don’t share. Not personal stuff anyway. Which means everything builds up, you know, ready to burst.’

‘So you’re saying he’s lost his temper before?’

‘Oh, yes.’

Yngve took a step closer.

‘My brother does have a temper on him, that’s for sure. Got into some fights over the years, but mostly when he was younger.’

Yngve nodded, waiting for him to continue.

‘Anyway, a couple of nights ago he came in late, made a hell of a racket when he did. Just threw his stuff about, tripped up, then kicked his shoes off. They hit my bedroom door.’ He shook his head. ‘He’s been very upset, I guess is what I’m trying to say. There’s been a lot of suppressed anger there, I reckon.’

‘That finally burst out. He flipped his lid?’

Lindgren snapped his fingers and said yes at the same time.

‘Do you know if he’s had the use of a car while he’s been here?’

‘He has.’

‘Do you know if he’s driven it?’

‘I don’t, to be honest. Like I said, I haven’t seen him much while he’s been here. I’ve been at work. We’re tearing down an apartment building over on Sagene. We’re a bit behind schedule, so—’

‘The night Mari died,’ Yngve interrupted. ‘Your brother had been to Fredheim High, for the school show. But he came back here after, is that correct?’

‘He’s slept here every night, yes, since Saturday.’

‘Do you remember when he got here on Monday night?’

‘It was late, I know that. I’d already gone to bed. I woke up when he came in, but I didn’t think to check the time.’