‘I visited my father. He has Alzheimer’s and lives at the nursing home, so I wanted to stop by, even though he doesn’t really know what day it is. And if you promise not to tell the staff, I suppose I could confess to bringing him a few treats.’

Karen ponders Ivar Tryste’s tragic fate for a moment. A grandchild of the old mining baron, he clearly lacked his power and influence. Loathed by the locals and denounced by the media for failing to save the mining industry from its inevitable demise. Then his wife left him and took the children and now that his son has finally moved back, he’s too senile to be aware of it.

‘We’ve obviously tried to bring Dad home to visit,’ William Tryste continues, ‘but he’s so far gone now the change of scenery seems to do more harm than good. But he’s still my father and I figured the least I could do for him was to smuggle in a piece of herring and a stiff drink on Christmas.’

‘Herring and snaps at seven in the morning?’

Karen regrets her comment. She sincerely doubts many people still have pickled herring and snaps for breakfast, even on Noorö, but it used to be common, she reminds herself, and pictures the snaps bottle next to the milk pitcher on the breakfast table in her aunt’s kitchen.

‘Only for the menfolk,’ Ingeborg would declare, slapping away her cousin Finn’s optimistically extended hand.

‘Yes, the older generation’s breakfast habits can be a bit hard on the digestion,’ William Tryste replies with a smile, ‘but that’s how they did things back then and I figured it couldn’t do Dad any harm to have something to remind him of the good old days. Besides, when I arrived, he’d already been up for a couple of hours. He was awake when I left, too, in case you’re wondering. Though I suppose you can’t really ask him, more often than not he doesn’t even recognise me anymore.’

‘Did any of the staff see you?’ Thorstein Byle puts in.

‘Doubtful. I went in with Alvin, but then we parted ways. He works up on the hospital floor, but it’s the same entrance. It’s possible someone saw me, but I had no interest in broadcasting my presence. I don’t think the staff would have been thrilled to see the snaps, even if it was just a tipple.’

‘And how long did you spend with him?’ Karen says and reflects that William Tryste doesn’t seem to have any obvious motive for wanting his distant relative dead, but on the other hand, he doesn’t seem to have an alibi, either.

‘Maybe an hour. Yes, it was just about eight o’clock when I got back out to the car. I remember, because I’d promised to call Helena to wake her up.’