‘Gabriel Stuub,’ Karen says and pulls out her notepad. ‘He works here, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Aha, I heard about his grandfather. Is that why you’re here? But that was a tragic accident, from what I’ve been told.’

Karen doesn’t answer the unspoken question.

‘Can you tell us a little about Gabriel?’ she says and notes that Jens Groth’s eyes turn to Thorstein Byle, as though looking for an explanation.

‘Gabriel? Is he in trouble?’

‘We’re talking to everyone who has a connection to Fredrik Stuub’s family,’ Byle replies evasively.

The absurdity of his statement seems not to register with Jens Groth.

‘Right, I see,’ he says. ‘Well, what do you want to know?’

‘How long has Gabriel worked here?’ Karen says, clicking her pen and smoothing the page of her notebook with her wrist. She probably won’t make more than a handful of brief notes – she rarely does – but she knows from experience that the sight of the notepad tends to sharpen people’s recall.

Groth shrugs.

‘His whole life, I imagine. Well, his whole adult life, I should say,’ he adds with a smile. ‘No child labour here.’

Karen smiles back without comment.

‘I would think,’ Jens Groth continues, ‘that he was about seventeen or eighteen when he started. I was away at university at the time, but if it’s important, I can check.’

They must be about the same age, Karen muses. One went to university, one went straight from school to working in the warehouse. That means Gabriel has spent half his life working for the Groths, and it’s probably going to be as long again unless he leaves the island for some reason. In the olden days, the mines provided jobs, now all that’s left is Groth’s or the oil platforms, and something tells her NoorOyl with their rigorous safety protocols would think twice about hiring Gabriel Stuub.

‘No, that’s fine. But given that he’s been here so long, I assume you’re happy with his work?’

‘Yeah, sure . . . It’s not exactly qualified work, but yes, Gabriel knows how to do it. He and another bloke are in charge of bottling and shipping, but they’re both off today.’

There’s a hint of evasiveness in Jens Groth’s reply, as though he has no specific complaints, but nevertheless wants to avoid saying anything good about Gabriel Stuub.

‘What do you know about his private life?’

Jens Groth shrugs his broad shoulders again.

‘Not a lot, I’m afraid. I know he’s getting divorced. Two children, I think. Lives somewhere west of Skreby.’

‘Come on, you must know more than that. You’ve worked together for years.’

‘What can I say? It’s not like we hang out after work.’

Karen can feel herself becoming annoyed. Jens Groth seems to have decided to give them as little as possible. She decides to cut to the chase.