The police were also appealing for anyone who might know the whereabouts of Johannes’ microphone case to come forward. I remembered that he was always very fussy about his microphones. ‘They cost megabucks,’ he used to say. ‘That’s why they sound so fucking good. My grandfather gave them to me.’

I checked my social media feeds again. I wanted to know if anyone else had seen me. I didn’t see any new comments. But each time I saw a picture of Mari or Johannes, it was as if a rope tightened around my neck, squeezing life and energy out of me. Just stick to the truth, I reminded myself. You didn’t do anything.

Imo and I took turns choosing what music to listen to – albums first, then single tracks. And I don’t know at what point it happened, but suddenly the whole room was out of focus. My movements got slower. Any words I tried to speak came out as a mixture of spit and breath.

A sound far away ricocheted around in my head, and it took a few moments before I realised my phone was ringing again. For a moment I hoped it was Oskar calling back to apologise, but it wasn’t. It was his father. Ole.

I stood up again and struggled for a few seconds while the room spun around me. I managed to find the green button then pressed the phone to my right ear. Or was it the left? I couldn’t say for sure.

‘Hi Even, it’s Ole Hoff. I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

‘No, no,’ I said – shouted. Luckily they were easy words to pronounce. I closed a door. Didn’t know exactly which one, but there was definitely less noise, and that was the most important thing.

‘How are you?’ Ole asked.

‘Marvellous,’ I said. And it sounded like I meant it too. ‘Bloody marvellous,’ I said, for some reason.

‘So you haven’t seen what they’re writing about you on Facebook?’

I sighed. My mood nosedived. ‘Well, yes,’ I said, more subdued.

‘What do you think about it?’ he asked. Was there a hint of suspicion in his voice too? I wasn’t sure.

‘Well…’ I said, ‘I think that everyone probably thinks I did it. That I killed them.’ It felt as though the words were all coming out of my mouth at the same time.

‘So you’re saying you weren’t at school yesterday? That Børre Halvorsen couldn’t possibly have seen you?’

I tried to arrange all the words he said so they made sense. ‘Hm?’

Ole repeated what he had just said.

I thought for a bit. ‘No,’ I replied.

There was a short pause. Or was it long? I couldn’t tell. Then he said: ‘I’ve written a piece for the newspaper. Thought I’d go over your quotes before I send it to the printers. Is that alright with you?’