Black Seconds Part 14

'So you think that's why she was found in the nightie? The nightie itself is of less significance, the point being that it was a clean item of clothing, no traces?' Sejer said.

'Don't you?' Snorrason asked him. He reached out for a blue thermos flask and poured coffee into a mug. Sejer declined.

'He could just as well have put her naked inside 188 the duvet. There's something sentimental about this,' Sejer contemplated. 'Something feminine.'

'She was very neatly wrapped,' Snorrason said.

'We don't normally find them like that. But nothing about this case is normal.'

'Was she a.s.saulted in any other way?'

'I haven't found any evidence to suggest it. But you can do a great deal to a child that leaves no physical traces. Incidentally, the duvet has been patched up,' he said. 'Someone's mended it, very meticulously.'

'Someone who can sew,' Sejer said. 'Another feminine aspect.'

'The patch is made from a piece of plain fabric, which could be a sheet,' Snorrason said. 'However, there wasn't a single drop of blood to be found, not on Ida or the nightie or the duvet.'

'What about the tape used to wrap her?' Sejer asked.

'Ordinary brown parcel tape, found in every household.'

'And her stomach contents? What did they tell you?'

'That she hadn't eaten for several hours. The nightie,' he carried on, 'you haven't made any progress with it?'

'We're still working on it. A female officer thinks it wasn't bought in a chain store. So we'll check lingerie shops.'

'There can't be that many of those.'

'Five in our town alone. Those five shops have 189 twelve staff in total. That will be a fun job for Jacob Skarre,' Sejer said. 'By the time he's done, he'll know his way around every single lingerie shop in southern Norway.'

'Well, he's single, isn't he?' Snorrason laughed.

'Perhaps he might learn something. Underwear is practically a science these days.' He smiled. 'Did you know that much of what women wear now is a by-product of s.p.a.ce-age technology?'

'No,' Sejer said. 'I know nothing about such things.' He had got up again and started putting on his jacket.

Snorrason drained his coffee mug in one gulp and pushed it aside. 'Well,' he said. 'So what are you thinking right now?'

'Right now I'm thinking of this,' Sejer said. 'A huge percentage of people killed in this country are killed by someone they know.'

190.

CHAPTER 17.

Tomme heard the doorbell ring downstairs. He rushed down to open the door. The sight of the unknown man on the doorstep made him nervous straight away.

'Konrad Sejer. Police.'

Tomme tried to pull himself together. 'My parents are at the hospital,' he said quickly. 'Visiting my aunt Helga.'

Sejer nodded. There was something fearful and jumpy about the young man. This roused his curiosity.

Tomme stayed in the doorway. He was seriously regretting opening the door.

'I presume you're Ida Joner's cousin?' Sejer asked. Tomme nodded. 'I was just going out,' he declared, looking at his wrist.w.a.tch as if he was in a rush.

This urgency puzzled Sejer. It was as if the ground was burning beneath the young man's feet. 'Spare me a few minutes, please,' he asked on impulse.

'After all, you knew Ida well.'

Of course, Tomme thought, I'm her cousin. They 191 always suspect uncles and cousins. He stepped back into the hallway. Sejer followed him.

'I'm so very sorry about your cousin,' he began. They were in the living room. It did not occur to Tomme to ask Sejer to sit down. So they remained standing, looking at one another.

'Thank you,' Tomme said. He looked outside for his parents' Volvo. If only they would come home now and rescue him from this agonising situation. He could find no words to talk about Ida and everything that had happened recently.

'There is something I've been meaning to ask you,'

Sejer remembered. 'It's about your car accident.'

When he mentioned the car, Tomme grew nervous once more. Sejer picked up on it. He did not know why Tomme was reacting like this. He a.s.sumed the boy might have been driving under the influence. That had to be the reason he had turned so pale.

'You bashed your car,' Sejer said, 'and it happened on the roundabout by the bridge. September first. The day Ida went missing.'

'What about it?' Tomme said.

'Your car received a dent and some damage to the paintwork. One of our officers found traces of paint on a crash barrier by the bridge that may have come from your car.'

Tomme had had his back to him all this time. Now, however, he turned around.

'In other words, there is every reason to believe that the damage happened in exactly the way you 192 described,' Sejer said. 'Never theless, I would like to know more details about the incident. Exactly how it happened. You have stated that you were forced off the road, to the right, by another car?'

Tomme nodded. 'Some guy entered the round about the same time as me. But he was in the wrong lane and going too fast. I had the choice between hitting him on the left or swerving to the right and hitting the crash barrier.'

'But you didn't report the other driver or give a statement to the police?'

'He drove off,' Tomme said quickly. 'I didn't get the chance.'

'Did he?' Sejer said. 'What make of car was he driving?'

Tomme thought. 'Now what was it? A dark blue car, fairly large. An Audi or a BMW, perhaps.'

'Why do you think he drove off?'

'Dunno. Perhaps he'd been drinking.'

'Had you been drinking?'

'No, no! I never drink and drive.'

'Did he actually hit your car?'

'No.'

'Have you done anything to find him?'

'How would I?'

'What about witnesses, Tomme? Someone must have seen it.'

'Guess so.'

'But no one stopped?'

'No.'

Sejer allowed the room to fall silent. He kept 193 looking at Tomme. 'Do you often go out driving late at night for no particular reason?'

'Do I need a reason?' Tomme said warily.

'You look nervous, Tomme,' Sejer said. 'It makes me wonder why.'

'I'm not nervous,' he said quickly.

'Oh, you are,' Sejer said. 'You're pale and nervous. You've no reason to be if it's simply the case that a bad driver on a roundabout forced you off the road, only to speed off without taking responsibility. You ought to be furious.'

'And so I am!' Tomme burst out.

'Not really,' Sejer said. 'You're upset.'

'The Opel has already been fixed,' the boy said abruptly. 'It's as good as new.'

'That didn't take you long,' Sejer said. 'Straight from the roundabout and into w.i.l.l.y's garage.' He smiled. 'Did he do it as a favour?'

'Yes.' Tomme nodded.

'He must be a very good friend,' Sejer said slowly. Tomme hesitated. His explanation was beginning to falter. It was not a very plausible story. He had not thought it through in his mind, and now it was all starting to sound rather unlikely.

'What precisely was the time when it happened?'

Sejer asked.

When? Tomme thought as hard as he could. He did know when it had happened. It had been close to midnight. It had been dark. Could he say twelve o'clock? After all, that was the truth. But then what would Sejer's next move be? No matter what he 194 replied, Sejer could come up with a new angle Tomme had not considered. He was standing there now waiting for an answer and Tomme could not drag it out any longer, so he told it like it was, that it was twelve o'clock at night. And Sejer listened and drew his own conclusions. Tomme hardly dared move, but he feared the worst. That the truth, that he had bashed his car at that particular place and at twelve o'clock exactly, would ultimately prove fatal for him.

'You left this house at six p.m.,' Sejer spoke slowly, as if he was picturing it all.

'Aha,' Tomme said. And it was true. It was nearly all true; that was precisely the problem, he realised.

'Where were you going?'

'To see Bjrn,' he explained. 'But he wasn't in. So I went to see w.i.l.l.y instead.' Again this was true. Completely true.

'And you stayed there for how long?'

'Almost till twelve.'

'And then you drove into town. At twelve o'clock at night?'

'Yes.'Again this was true. Unbearably true.

'Then you had the accident on the roundabout. What were you doing in the town centre so late at night?'

'Nothing, I was just driving for no particular reason,' he said defiantly.

'You've said you were heading in the direction of Oslo. Is that right?'

'I just wanted to do some motorway driving,'

195.

Tomme said. 'I didn't intend to drive all the way to Oslo itself.'

'You got home at one o'clock in the morning,'

Sejer said. 'What were you doing between midnight and one?'

'I drove back to w.i.l.l.y's,' Tomme admitted. This, too, was entirely true.

'After spending the entire evening from six to midnight with him, you drive back to him again?'

'Yeah. Because of the damage to my car. I was really wound up about it,' Tomme confessed. 'I had to show it to someone. I wanted w.i.l.l.y to check it out, see if he could fix it for me.' It all sounded highly suspicious, he thought miserably. Even though what he was telling him now was the truth.

'How long have you known w.i.l.l.y Oterhals?'

Sejer asked.

'A few years.'

'You spend a lot of time together?'

'Not any more. My parents don't really approve,'