Yngve made a final sweep of the room with his eyes. Couldn’t see any other objects he could take for further testing. He placed the bloody T-shirt in an evidence bag.

‘What are you going to do with that?’ Lindgren asked.

‘I’m going to check whose blood it is,’ Yngve said. ‘Thanks for telling me about it.’ He headed for the front door.

‘What’s … what’s going to happen now?’ Lindgren asked. There was distress in his voice.

‘We’ll have to find your brother first,’ Yngve said. ‘Then … I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.’ He opened the door. ‘Good luck with the demolition.’

65

65

Yngve had barely crossed the Oslo county border, on his way back to Fredheim, when the phone rang.

‘It’s DCI Bjarne Brogeland, Oslo police,’ the voice on the other end said. ‘You called about a Frode Lindgren?’

Yngve took his foot off the accelerator. ‘Yes, have you found him already?’

‘It wasn’t difficult,’ Brogeland said with a laugh. ‘He’s in a holding cell, sleeping it off. He was arrested this morning.’

‘Why? How?’

‘He was completely pissed, trying to pick fights – the usual. He didn’t want to go home, either, or come with us voluntarily, so we had to bring him in on a public order offence. We’ve kept him here while he’s sobering up. You’re lucky – I was just about to let him go when you called.’

Yngve looked for the nearest exit off the motorway. ‘Has he said anything?’

‘He hasn’t spoken much, but he’s been very upset. He’s been crying a lot.’

Yngve explained what had happened to Mari.

‘Oh dear,’ Brogeland said. ‘I can see why he’s so distraught.’

‘Can I come and pick him up?’

‘He’s all yours.’

‘Alright, thank you. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’

Half an hour later Yngve met Bjarne Brogeland outside Oslo police headquarters. Frode Lindgren was standing beside him, head down, his clothes dirty – as if he’d spent the night in a ditch. He looked pale and completely worn out.

Yngve knew of Brogeland’s reputation. He’d been involved in a series of high-profile cases in Oslo over the last few years. He was in his mid-forties and was muscular – a tough guy. It was easy to understand why criminals respected and tried to stay clear of him.

‘He’s not in tip-top shape yet, but …’ Brogeland looked at Lindgren. ‘At least he’s sober.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘How’s the investigation going?’

‘We’re moving in the right direction,’ Yngve said with a sigh. He glanced around, almost expecting to see Åse standing nearby. Frode seemed preoccupied with something close to his feet.

‘Need a place to question this guy?’ Brogeland nodded towards the police headquarters.