Yngve could tell that Hanstveit didn’t like this either, but she didn’t voice any further concerns.

‘Alright, then,’ Yngve concluded. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘One thing,’ Even said.

‘What is it?’

‘Can I have dinner with them first?’

87

87

The dinner in our house that day consisted of Swedish meatballs, pasta and a tomato sauce with a heavy taste of basil. Knut was there, too. As usual he didn’t say much.

Afterwards I asked Tobias if he wanted to play Call of Duty with me. It was ages since we’d done anything like that together. The psychiatrist at the hospital had concluded that my brother no longer was suicidal, but that he needed steady routines – no sudden surprises, no upset, only harmony. He’d seemed a lot happier the last few days. Lighter somehow, as though he’d managed to put the past behind him.

‘I spoke to Victor Ramsfjell a little while ago,’ I said somewhere in the middle of the first game.

‘Hm?’ My brother’s hands didn’t stop moving. He seemed to be focusing on what he was doing.

‘Victor,’ I said. ‘Børre Halvorsen’s mate. The one with the red hair, you know? He’s the same age as you.’

Tobias didn’t say anything at first. Then: ‘Why did you talk to him?’

‘I wanted to check something.’

Tobias carried on playing, but I could tell that he’d lost a bit of concentration.

‘Victor wasn’t at the school the night Mari and Johannes were killed. But Børre was his best friend, and they talked all the time. One of the things they talked about was when Børre saw you in the window of the school newspaper room that night.’

Tobias’s hands slowed down.

‘You told me you waited for Mari outside the school, Tobias, but that’s not true. Børre saw you in that window after the show was over. A good while after it was over, too.’

Tobias stopped playing, but he didn’t look at me.

I thought about my brother’s suicide attempt. At first I had believed he was tired of his life somehow, which may have played a part in it, but mostly, I think he was just afraid of getting caught. That when Yngve Mork got him into an interrogation room, he would break down.

‘Was that why Børre had to die?’ I asked him. ‘So he wouldn’t tell the police when he’d seen you?’

My brother didn’t answer.

‘That would have branded you a liar,’ I continued. ‘Børre could have got you arrested. And then you might tell on Imo. And Imo couldn’t take that risk.’