‘Have you found the bastard who did this?’ he asked, standing on one foot and without looking at Yngve.

‘Not yet,’ Yngve said. ‘But we’re working as fast as we can. Which is why I’m here. It’s imperative that I speak to you. Both of you. Think you can do that?’

Frode lifted his shoulders before lowering them again. He opened his mouth wide, as if to bring the muscles in his face back to life.

‘Yeah,’ he said eventually. ‘Let’s try that. Whatever you need.’

He motioned for Yngve to go back inside.

As Frode closed the veranda door behind them, Cecilie came slowly down the stairs. She was holding on to the bannister, her sister beside her, trying to keep her steady. Yngve offered them all his condolences, but none of them replied.

Cecilie sat down on the sofa. Her sister removed a cup and a glass from the coffee table, and left the room. Yngve produced a notepad and a pen.

‘I’ll try to do this as quickly as I can,’ he said. The three of them were sitting opposite each other, in a triangle, the table between them. ‘We’re trying to get an idea of Mari’s movements the last days before…’ He didn’t finish the sentence. ‘Who she talked to, where she was, whether or not something in particular was bothering her…’

Frode looked at his wife. She was staring at something in front of her. Her eyelids moved slowly, as if even the slightest movement required effort.

As neither of them spoke Yngve pressed on: ‘I assume she was at school?’

‘I think so,’ Frode said. ‘I haven’t been around the last couple of days.’

‘You haven’t?’

‘No, I’ve been…’

Frode didn’t finish the sentence. He looked at his wife, who continued to stare distantly in front of her.

‘Do you know if Mari had argued with anyone? Friends? School mates?’

Frode was now rolling his wet socks into a ball. ‘Not that we know of,’ he said. ‘Mari was…’ He looked away for a beat. ‘She had a lot of friends,’ he continued. ‘Everybody liked Mari. At least, that was my impression.’

‘What about you, Cecilie?’ Yngve asked.

Tears were streaming down her face, but she didn’t make a sound. She was moving her head slowly from side to side.

‘She was seeing Even Tollefsen until recently?’ Yngve asked.

Somewhere in the house a phone rang, but the noise stopped almost immediately. A heavy silence followed.

‘Yes, she … was,’ Frode replied.

‘Do you know what happened between them?’

Frode squeezed his socks so hard his knuckles turned white. He looked at his wife briefly, then shook his head.

‘Did either of you go to the school performance last night?’

‘I … did,’ Frode said.

‘You went alone?’

‘Yes, Cecilie didn’t…’ Again he didn’t finish.

Yngve waited a moment before continuing. ‘Did you speak to your daughter while you were there?’