The Murder of Harriet Krohn

15

“WHAT ARE YOU thinking about?” Sejer asks.

“I’m thinking that you’re going to start giving me a hard time.”

“You think I’m going to put you through it?”

“Obviously.”

“Only if it’s necessary. So what did you do before the riding center? I mean, before you were unemployed?”

“I worked in a car showroom. I was a pretty good salesman. Honda and Subaru. New and used.”

“Liked it?”

“Yes. I had a great time. Before I really began to mess things up.”

“Why did you give it up? Did it close?”

“No,” he says candidly. “I was sacked on the spot. I embezzled a small sum because of my gambling debts. They never reported me. But, you know, I was on my uppers. And that was the biggest misdeed of my life.” He looks straight at Sejer. “It was done on the spur of the moment, though. It wasn’t anything I planned to do. The temptation was too great. I had debts even then.”

“So what’s your opinion of something that’s planned? Does that make it a worse crime?”

“Yes, don’t you think so?”

Sejer drinks his Farris.

“Obviously we use many different terms. Premeditated, willful, and involuntary. And there are reasons for that. And then there are mitigating circumstances. These are actually quite a new concept in judicial terms. In the past they didn’t exist. A murder was a murder, and was punished in the same way. But your embezzlement probably had some extenuating circumstances. Presumably you were desperate?”

“I was desperate,” Charlo says, nodding. “And I was also ashamed. I was unable to look after my family, and that was a huge, unbearable humiliation.”

“That’s not difficult to understand.”

“Luckily we managed to keep it from Julie. She wasn’t all that old at the time. But now I’ve bared my soul to her. I’ve told her everything.”

“There are no secrets between you anymore?”

“No. No big ones at least.”

He drains his glass.

“Except for the fact that you’re sitting here,” says Sejer. “Haven’t you got to explain that to her as well?”

“Naturally. In one way or another.”

“What will you tell her?”

“The truth, of course. That I’m only being questioned as a witness.”

“You think that’s what you are?”

“Am I a suspect? If that’s the case, I assume you’ve got a duty to inform me.”

Sejer nods gravely. “Well,” he says, “we have reasonable grounds for suspicion. That’s why you’re here.”

“Is that so?” says Charlo. “You’ve come out with it at last. You couldn’t exactly be accused of jumping the gun.”

“Let’s tidy things up a bit,” Sejer says. “Certain things are getting in the way. Unimportant things.”

“Such as what?”

“Your trip to Kongsberg. Can we sweep that out of the way?”

“Why?”

“You were never there. You’re simply trying to fill up the evening.”

“Of course I went to Kongsberg. Why should that be a problem?”

“I believe you drove straight to Hamsund. And there was a large bunch of flowers on the seat next to you. You parked behind the old hotel and got out with the flowers.”

“You’ve obviously got it all worked out. So, what did I do next?”

“You went to number four Fredboesgate. The green house. And rang Harriet Krohn’s bell.”

Now it’s been said. It’s out in the open. But there isn’t such a roaring in his ears as he’d anticipated. He says: “No. No, I didn’t go to her house. I don’t even know who she is.”

“I don’t believe that either. I think she was selected fairly randomly. But by being armed with a bouquet of flowers, it was easy to gain access.”

“I never bought any flowers!”

“Easy now, Mr. Torp. Listen to me. We ought to try to tidy things up here and not spend time on trivialities. We know that you had flowers.”

“I bought them for Julie.”

“So, they were for her? But back then, in November, when she wouldn’t see you? You’ve already explained about that.”

“I was trying to get her to forgive me.”

“But it didn’t work?”

“I knocked on the door of her room, but she wasn’t there.”

“So what did you do with the flowers?”

“I threw them away.”

“Where?”

“Just in a garbage can, somewhere in town. I was upset.”

“You had very little money. But you splurged on expensive flowers?”

“When it comes to Julie, nothing is too much.”

“So this visit to her digs is something you’ve only just remembered now?”

“Yes, I’d forgotten it. But it’s coming back slowly.”

“In other words, there could be other things you’ve forgotten?”

“I don’t think so. I’d probably suppressed the memory of the flowers. It was a setback.”

“You didn’t have other setbacks in the course of the evening?”

“Oh yes, the collision. You could call that a setback.”

“But that wasn’t your fault; you had the right of way.”

“Yes. But it was a miserable end to a miserable evening.”

Sejer nods and makes notes. “Is that the way you’d characterize the evening? Miserable?”

“Yes. I got home completely exhausted. I felt as if I’d been put through a mill.”

“That’s pretty strong. But is it your instability you’re talking about now? You were exhausted by it?”

“Yes. I remember sitting in a chair in my living room and finding my wits slowly returning. As if I’d been far away.”

“Had you been?”

“What?”

“Had you been far away? Out of yourself?”

“Yes, I think you could say that. As if my body and soul had lost contact with each other. Have you ever experienced that?”

“Yes, I have indeed. You feel like a robot.”

“Exactly,” replies Charlo.

“Did you feel like a robot?”

“You could put it that way.”

“What sort of injuries did you sustain in the collision?”

“Injuries? Oh, nothing at all. I got off with a bad shock. And I strained both wrists because I was clutching the wheel so hard.”

“So you escaped completely uninjured?”

“Yes, we both did. Or did he injure himself? He said nothing about it. But then he didn’t get the chance because I was so mad.”

“No, he hasn’t said anything about it. He was actually talking about you.”

“I suffered no injuries, as I’ve said.”

Sejer sits back in his chair and looks appraisingly at him.

“There was blood on the lower part of your parka. Where did it come from?”

“No, you’re on a wild-goose chase again. There was no blood anywhere.”

“On the right side of your parka. Obvious bloodstains.”

“I think I know what he was referring to. That parka did have some bad stains, and he possibly thought they were blood. I was changing the engine oil on one occasion, and I made a mess. That was why I threw it away, as I’ve already said.”

“You dumped it because it was worn out.”

“And because it was stained.”

“Once again, you’ve left out a detail. Let’s look at some others.”

“No, there’s no point. There’s nothing more to say.”

“You weren’t involved in a brawl with anyone in the locality?”

“Certainly not. I’m a peaceable man. And I certainly would have remembered that.”

“Yes, I believe you when you say you’re peaceable. But we have in fact established that you do occasionally lose control.”

“Only very rarely.”

“And the seventh of November was one of those rare occasions. I believe you’d had just about as much as you could take that evening. I believe that’s why you keep forgetting things. Let’s try again. You drove around to the back of the hotel and parked. A man walking a dog observed the car. This isn’t something I suspect or suggest — it’s something I know for a fact.”

Charlo closes his eyes. I’m ill, he thinks. Gradually I’ll get weaker and weaker. I mustn’t think about that now. He says: “All right. I must have forgotten that as well. I sat there and had a cigarette, then I drove out again.”

“Out again and where?”

“Past the railway station to this celebrated junction.”

“You drove straight from the hotel and had a collision?”

“That’s right.”

“So, you needed a cigarette?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have to drive to the back of a hotel to roll a cigarette?”

“No. Not really. I could have stopped along the road. There wasn’t any traffic.”

“So why this maneuver?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I wanted to hide. I was feeling pretty desperate.”

“You say you were desperate. Tell me about that feeling of desperation. Did it come over you slowly? Or in a sudden rush?”

“I can’t remember that well. No, I think it came on slowly. I don’t know. I had so many emotions. I badly needed a way out. A way out of all my difficulties.”

“Was that what you were thinking when you drove out of town? That you needed a way out?”

“Yes, I was thinking about that a lot.”

“You’d given up the idea of robbing a bank. Did you have any other ideas?”

“The bank job was a joke. I never gave it serious consideration.”

“OK. Perhaps you thought of something else?”

“No, everything looked bleak.”

“But still you drove to Hamsund? Taking the E134 along the river and then onto the R35?”

“I was hoping something would turn up.”

“A miracle?”

“I don’t believe in miracles.”

“You had a more tangible plan?”

Charlo wrings his hands and reaches for his tobacco. Tears it out of the pouch and lays it on a cigarette paper.

“Only vague thoughts.”

“Can you let me in on them?”

“No. I’m not taking that chance. You could get the wrong idea.”

“What sort of wrong idea?”

“About what I’ve done and haven’t done.”

“So you’re worried about that? About what I think?”

“I know what you’re after; I’m not that stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t need me to do that.”

“I don’t. But I think it’s good to put things into words. It’s not as dangerous as you think.”

“I’ve got my own thoughts about that.”

“That’s your prerogative.”

A pause. Each falls silent. Sejer thinks his own thoughts. Charlo tries to rest a bit, restore himself. He curls his toes in his sneakers, no problem.

“So, you drove up Fredboesgate. You parked behind the old hotel, and then you left the car. Where did you go?”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I just sat in the car smoking.”

“You’ve forgotten something important again, Mr. Torp. The witness who spotted your car said it was empty. You weren’t in it. Where had you gone?”

“Maybe I took a stroll along the street. I can’t quite remember.”

“Can you remember Harriet’s house?”

“I’ve no idea where she lived.”

“In the green house, number four.”

“No, I can’t remember that.”

“But you looked at the lovely listed buildings?”

“I admired them, but not in great detail.”

“Tell me where you went.”

“Well, I might have walked to the end of the street, and then possibly I turned and came back again.”

“Did you meet anyone?”

“Not a soul.”

“This is very important, Mr. Torp. What time was it when you took your stroll in Fredboesgate?”

He forgets to think and answers straight out.

“It must have been ten or thereabouts.”

“In other words, whatever you did in Fredboesgate took half an hour? Your car accident occurred at ten-thirty.”

“Well, it took half an hour then. To walk up and down the street.”

“You went up and down several times?”

“You’re making it sound as if I did. I can’t think properly anymore.”

“That’s because we’re going in circles. Perhaps we ought to get right to the heart of the case?”

“What case?”

“The murder of Harriet Krohn. That’s why you’re here. You do realize that?”

“Naturally. Unfortunately I was in the same area, and you people have got no one else to bring in. That’s why I’m here. But driving around the roads is no crime.”

“Of course not. Even so, I find it strange. Up and down Fredboesgate for half an hour. Desperate and depressed, in a wet parka?”

“Yes, I was at rock bottom.”

“You felt yourself to be of unsound mind?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. That’s putting it too strongly.”

“Were you thinking about the solution? The one you needed so badly?”

“I suppose I was. But I found no solution. I went back to the car, drove away, and let all my despair rain down over the lad in the Toyota. That’s all there is to say about it. I’m sorry, you wanted something else, I’m sure. But that’s all you’re getting.”

Sejer checks his papers again.

“Some minutes ago you said that it was ten-thirty when you turned off toward Hamsund. Now you’ve changed your statement. You walked up Fredboesgate at ten o’clock. Any comment about that?”

“Not really. My brain’s a bit weary.”

There’s a silence. The dog gets up suddenly and whines, giving his master a doleful look.

“Let’s go outside for a minute, Mr. Torp, and stretch our legs. Frank needs to go anyway.”

The dog heads for a flower bed outside the courthouse. He rummages among ornamental shrubs and emerging perennials for a good spot. Then he crouches awkwardly and does his business. Sejer pulls a plastic bag from his pocket.

“What sort of age will he live to?” Charlo asks.

“Quite a considerable one, probably. For a dog at least. Frank is a Chinese fighting dog. A Shar Pei. I hope he’ll be with me a long time.”

He places the bag in a trashcan. Charlo breathes in the fresh air. He is grateful for the break. He’s regained control. It’s important to keep a check on oneself and not make a slip of the tongue. It’s like walking a tightrope.

“Are you a religious man, Mr. Torp?”

“Not really. But there’s some sort of God out there. He’s got his back turned, though.”

“I’m not religious either,” says Sejer. “But I’ve got a lot of time for Roman Catholic confession.”

Charlo rolls up his sleeves.

“Why so?” he asks and stops as the dog pauses. He’s sniffing at a candy wrapper.

“Confession is a type of discipline. You have to express things out loud; you have to find the words. So, at the end of your life, you’ll be glad you’re not full of unpleasant secrets. Because you’ve confessed them bit by bit.”

“You’re an investigator,” Charlo says. “I can see why you’d appreciate confessions.”

“Yes, but it isn’t just that I like them. I mean, at the time it can be hard to see how any good can come out of a confession. But in the long run. For the remainder of your life.”

“I’m unconvinced,” Charlo says. “I imagine a sin getting bigger when one shows it to others. It grows and brings with it a whole load of reproach.”

“In the short term, yes. But I’m talking about the rest of our lives,” says Sejer. “I’m thinking about how we’ve got to die sometime. How we’ll be lying there in a bed knowing that the end is near. To manage that, we must be able to let go of life. If we don’t confide, we have to take all our misery to the grave with us. I shouldn’t like to do that.”

Charlo thinks about what he’s said.

“We don’t take anything to the grave with us.”

“No. But we carry it with us during the process of dying. And the process must be hard enough without that. Don’t you think?”

Charlo reaches for his tobacco again. The dog vanishes into the shrubbery once more and begins digging enthusiastically with his puppy paws, making the earth fly out behind him.

“I prefer cats,” Charlo says.

“Why?”

“They don’t demand things of us like dogs do. Dogs are so intimate, so intense. They make their presence felt all the time. Panting. Begging. Cats are more on the periphery. They jump on your lap if they feel like it, and leave when they can’t be bothered anymore. They don’t impinge on your thoughts.”

“You don’t like that? Having your thoughts disturbed?”

“No, it makes me bad-tempered. I’m rather childish that way.”

“So the Toyota that crashed into you disturbed your thoughts?”

“Yes. I was concentrating deeply just then, on other things.”

“Tell me.”

“The day had been long and hard. At last I was going home. To my chair and my bed. In my mind I was already at home; I was longing to be there. So I wasn’t paying attention.”

He lights his cigarette and inhales.

“Because the evening had been an ordeal?”

“Yes. It was an ordeal. I felt as if I was clinging to the edge of a cliff with only a void beneath me. I couldn’t see any future, only darkness and despair.”

“Wasn’t there anyone you could phone?”

“No. I’ve only got Julie. And she has to be spared at all costs. She mustn’t get mixed up in my problems.”

“You think you can prevent that? They grow up, you know. And they understand a great deal.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right of course. And she certainly is a smart cookie. But I can’t bear the thought of her being worried about me. Children shouldn’t worry about adults.”

“But she isn’t a child. She’s almost seventeen. What do you think she’ll be doing now? She doesn’t know where you are. She’s sitting alone with her thoughts. Waiting. Looking at the clock. Her imagination running riot.”

“Well, I’ll explain to her. I’ll explain,” he says again, and takes a pull at his roll-up. Determination written on his face.

“So, you’ve got an explanation?”

“Of course.”

“Is it a good one?”

“I think so.”

Sejer heads for a bench. He lowers himself onto it and Charlo follows his example.

“Will I think it’s good?” Sejer’s eyes settle on him.

“I don’t know. Don’t think so.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“No. But you’ve never been in my shoes.”

“I’ve had plenty of problems of my own.”

They fall quiet and raise their faces to the sun.

“You don’t look like a harassed man,” Charlo says after the silence. “You’re doing well. A good job and a nice office. Responsibility. Authority. I’ve got none of those. I’ve never had them.”

“Did you want them?”

“Naturally. But I got completely sucked into gambling. It ruined things for me. For my family.”

“Yes, we become obsessed by things, affected by things. But there is always a choice.”

“I’ve never felt that. I’ve always felt driven.”

“Driven to gambling addiction and embezzlement?”

“Yes. You talk like all the rest of them. The ones that say you can just choose and stop doing all those destructive things. It points to a lack of imagination and knowledge of what a human being is.”

“And what is a human being?”

Charlo shuts his eyes. “There are probably as many answers as there are human beings. And I hate all that guff about free will.”

“Because you feel you haven’t got it. But many people would maintain that they do have it. You’re envious, and so you dismiss the term.”

“You’re very psychological.”

“It’s part of my job. But really, I’m genuinely curious about all types of people.”

“I’m not particularly interesting.”

“You must let others be the judges of that. You can’t know how others perceive you.”

Suddenly Frank comes bouncing up with something in his mouth.

“Well, my goodness,” Sejer says bending down. “This rascal’s found a bone!”

“It looks rotten,” Charlo says.

“It doesn’t matter. Look how proud he is.”

“Yes, their lives are simple.”

“And yours is more complicated?”

“As things stand,” Charlo says, “the rest of my life is a blur. I can’t make anything out clearly.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic.”

“Yes. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Feel free to tell me. I’m sitting here.”

“I’m just trying to retain a little dignity.”

“I’ve no plans to rob you of it. It wouldn’t be in my interest. Dignity is an important thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had much.”

“Now you really do sound pessimistic. You’ve paid your debts, got yourself a job, et cetera. Made it up to Julie.”

“Yes, but it’ll be a long road. And I may not even be able to walk.”

“What’s this you’re saying?”

“Nothing.”

Sejer falls silent again, reaches down, and steals the dog’s bone. He growls at once and begins scratching at his trouser leg. They sit there for twenty minutes. Charlo drinks in the sun’s warmth. Now and again he moves his legs carefully to feel that they’re there. They seem healthy; he can twiddle his foot. At the moment.

Sejer asks questions.

Always in that calm tone. There’s nothing threatening about him. Charlo answers. He’s always got to think first. Gradually a weariness settles over his mind, a lack of awareness of what he’s already said. A degree of confusion. He becomes nervous. He feels an overpowering urge to tell all, to move on. To lie down on a bed, close his eyes, and empty his head. No, says a voice inside him. Keep quiet!

“What were you thinking about as you sat in your car behind the hotel?”

“I’m not sure. I was thinking about everything and nothing. My thoughts were all over the place. I wasn’t concentrating. That’s probably why I crashed. Normally I’d have realized that the Toyota wasn’t going to stop.”

“But things weren’t normal?”

“I was in a tight corner. And the collision jarred me out of my reverie. I’m actually very sorry about it. Sometimes I think I should try to get a hold of him to explain and apologize. He was very upset when I began shouting and swearing. I mean, I’m usually polite. My parents were very hot on that. They taught me to behave properly, and I do.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“When I was young and dating Inga Lill, I did everything by the book. I had a job and a house. Plenty to offer. It’s funny to think of that now.”

“But then you lost it all? Tell me how it all started.”

“It was like being caught in an undertow. The gambling. The wins. The losses were merely a necessary part of it; each win made up for everything. Have you ever tried it?”

“No, I never gamble. No pools, no lottery. I don’t play board games, either. I’ve got a grandson, and I’ve looked after him all through his childhood. I’ve read to him, taken him to the cinema, played football, run through the forest with him, taken him on trips. But I’ve never played a game with him.”

“Why not?”

“I’m scared he might win.”

Charlo looks at him across the desk.

“So, in fact, you’re scared as well. You haven’t left any case unsolved in your entire police career.”

“So you read that article?”

“Julie found it in the paper.”

“Does it make you nervous?”

“No. I’m impressed, of course. But that record will be broken sometime. Perhaps it will be broken this year. Because you can’t find the Hamsund murderer.”

“I haven’t given up hope. I’m tenacious.”

“Certainly. But perhaps he is, too. Have you considered that?”

“Frequently.”

Once more, Charlo glances over at Frank.

“You really have trained that dog well. Even though he’s still a puppy. How did you manage it?”

“It’s a mystery to me as well. But Frank does what I tell him. It’s a gift that’s fallen into my lap. I deserve no credit for it. What about you and horses? Have you got a good rapport with them?”

“Yes, I find it as easy as pie. I just react to them naturally. It’s a matter of reading them. They send out a mass of signals that have to be read.”

“But how did you learn to do it?”

“It’s just a natural talent, I think. Nothing I deserve any credit for.”

Sejer clasps his hands behind his head and stretches in his chair.

“But you deserve credit for something, surely?”

“I really don’t know what for. Well, yes, I do work hard for Møller. And I look after Julie. That’s good, if a little belated, if you know what I mean.”

“Has she got any other adults she can turn to?”

“No, only friends her own age. Why d’you ask?”

“I just wondered. You said that the rest of your life is a blur. Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s almost grown up?”

“It is good.”

“Let’s return to Fredboesgate.”

“I don’t particularly want to.”

“I understand that, Mr. Torp. But we must.”

“I’m not going to go back to it at all. I find it obnoxious. I think I’ve said enough.”

“Did something happen there that you don’t want to talk about?”

“I think I’ve said what there is to say. I’m sorry, but I’ve nothing more to give.”

“Not even a few small details?”

“Especially not details.”

“D’you find them unpleasant?”

“I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have a lawyer.”

Sejer nods. “It’s up to you. Do you need one?”

“No, I haven’t done anything.”

“In that case, you can tell it just the way it was. You bought a bunch of flowers to gain access to Harriet Krohn’s kitchen. They were on her kitchen counter, Mr. Torp. A lily, roses, and anemones.”

“Yes, I remember the bouquet, but they were for Julie.”

“Describe the bouquet you bought.”

“For Christ’s sake. There were several sorts of flowers. I don’t know the names of any of them.”

“But you said you remembered it. Maybe you remember the colors?”

“Well, there was some pink and blue. I didn’t ask for anything in particular. I just asked her to make up a mixed bouquet.”

“And it ended up in a garbage can where?”

“Possibly it was at the Shell service station at the top of Oscarsgate. I stopped there after I’d been to Julie’s.”

“Why?”

“Er, I went into the shop.”

“Yet another visit you’ve forgotten. You said you didn’t go in anywhere.”

“Yes, but I’m starting to get tired. It’s hardly surprising I’m getting muddled.”

“Absolutely, I quite see that. It’s why I’m continuing to ask questions. Because it’s my belief that, sooner or later, we’ll get to the important matters.”

“And what are those?”

“The murder of Harriet Krohn. Answer me this, Mr. Torp: what kind of weapon did you have with you?”

“I didn’t have any weapon.”

“A baseball bat?”

“No.”

“A hammer, perhaps?”

“Didn’t you hear? I said no. I didn’t have any weapon!”

“Just flowers?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Now I’m getting confused. Can’t you go a bit more slowly?”

“I’m sorry.”

Sejer leans back defensively.

“So, you walked to Miss Krohn’s house, armed only with flowers?”

Charlo keeps silent. What was it he just admitted?

“No, I didn’t go to Miss Krohn’s house.”

Sejer leans forward once more.

“Come on, Mr. Torp. Don’t start going up a blind alley again, or we’re never going to get anywhere.”

“And where are we supposed to get to?”

“To the truth. We’re going to get to the truth.”

“And what is the truth according to you? That I killed Harriet Krohn?”

“You’re the one with the answers here. The explanations. I’m not going to second-guess. But I can be plain and ask you directly. Did you kill Harriet Krohn?”

“No.”

“She was alive when you left the house — is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

He puts his hands to his head. Expels the air from his lungs, tries to twist away. “She was lying on the floor. In the kitchen.”

He hunches in his chair and hides his face in his hands. He’s fallen over the precipice.

“Why?”

“I gave her a little push.”

He looks up at Sejer again, wishing to save what he can.

“That’s how you’d describe it? A push?”

“Yes. But she was quite thin and fragile, and she may have struck the kitchen unit as she fell. She may have passed out.”

“And you left her there, lying by the kitchen unit?”

“Yes. I got panicky, you know. I thought perhaps she’d injured herself.”

“You can do better than that, Mr. Torp. There was a great deal of blood in the kitchen. You knew for a fact she was injured. And you panicked?”

“Yes.”

“But not enough to leave the silver behind. Did you find some cash, too?”

Charlo grimaces. “Yes, I found a few kroner in her bedroom.”

He looks past Sejer and out of the window, at the clouds.

“Can you be a little more exact about the amount?”

“Well, several thousand-krone notes.”

Sejer nods to himself.

“So there was no lottery win?”

“No, I just made it up.”

“Why did you push her?”

“Because she went mad when I opened her sideboard. She attacked me from behind and began screaming and scratching. I became desperate; I admit it. You see, I get like that sometimes. I couldn’t understand why she was getting so worked up about her silver.”

“So you pushed her hard?”

“Not especially hard. She came at me again and carried on. I remember thinking how greedy she was for that silver, as if it was the most precious thing she had. She could have let me take it without a fuss, and she’d have fared better.”

“She’s dead, Mr. Torp. She was killed.”

“Well, I just can’t understand that because, as I said, I only gave her a push. She ran into the kitchen, and I ran after her and pushed her again. And of course it was just my luck that her forehead hit the edge of the metal draining board, but that was what happened. And I don’t regard it as murder; I mean, it was an accident. Not something I’d planned in advance.”

Sejer makes notes and says nothing. Charlo’s mouth is dry, but his glass is empty. He waits, his mind in turmoil.

“Mr. Torp,” Sejer says slowly. “You’ve come a long way, and I’m grateful for that. But you’re leaving out certain important facts. Your explanation isn’t quite full enough.”

“It happened just the way I said. I was only interested in her silver. I got agitated and gave her a shove.”

“But we’ve examined the victim carefully. And her injuries don’t concur with your account. In other words, we’ve got a problem. I must ask you to go into more detail.”

“I’ve already said that I don’t like going into details. I think I’ve given you a lot now. I’ve bent over backward.”

“You’re to be commended for that. We’re definitely getting somewhere. But if Miss Krohn had fallen and struck the unit, she would have had a lump on her forehead. The fact is that the victim sustained severe injuries. What did you hit her with?”

“I didn’t hit her. I sort of pushed her away from me, because she was clinging onto me like a leech. She was really irritating me.”

“According to our experts, the weapon was probably metal, with some kind of sharp edge. Have you got any suggestions?”

“It must have been the edge of the draining board.”

“It’s not sharp; it has more of a rounded profile. I saw that for myself when I was in the house.”

“I haven’t got anything more to contribute. Nothing more to say.”

“When did you arrive at her house?”

“At about ten o’clock.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was at my wits’ end, as I said. I rang the bell and she came to the door. I said I had a flower delivery and that I needed a signature. So she went back into the house to fetch her glasses and I followed her. I caught sight of the sideboard at once, and thought that the valuables would be inside it. I opened it and pulled out the drawers. There was a lot of silver, and it was old. But then she got really irate. She flew at me and I hit out as best I could to keep her off me. I suppose it seems ridiculous; she looked so frail. But just then she was strong and totally beside herself. I thought that was stupid. I wasn’t going to do anything to her. She rushed into the kitchen and I followed. Then I pushed her against the unit. She collapsed on the floor. And I was very concerned about that, obviously, but I was worried about getting away.”

“How did you transport the silver?”

“I put it in a cotton bag I had with me.”

“And the money?”

“I found it in her bedroom, inside a wardrobe.”

“And then?”

“Then I left the house. I got into the car. Naturally I was a bit shaky. But it was all over quite quickly. I smoked a roll-up and started the car. Drove down to the railway station. And had the collision. That was when I really brimmed over, as I’ve already explained.”

“What did you do with the weapon?”

“I didn’t have a weapon. I’m just a common burglar. You can’t get me for anything else.”

“You’ll be charged with murder and aggravated burglary. That’s quite a different matter.”

“Ask the pathologist to check in case she had a stroke or a hemorrhage from the shock. Because I didn’t kill anyone. I’m not like that.”

Sejer leans back in his chair, seeming to relax a bit. For an instant, he closes his eyes.

“She had multiple skull fractures,” he says at length. “Thirteen in all.”

“Old people have brittle bones. They can’t take much.”

“When did you decide to go to Harriet Krohn’s?”

“When I was wandering around the town frantically seeking a solution.”

“You said you hadn’t planned it.”

“Yes, it was done on impulse.”

“But you’d brought along a cotton bag for the silver. Did you bring it from home?”

Charlo bites his lip. “Can I have some Farris?”

Sejer nods and gets up to fetch a bottle from the fridge.

“No, the bag was already in the car. It’s Julie’s old gym bag; it was just lying in the back seat.”

“How convenient, Mr. Torp.”

“Yes.”

“Let me explain. There was a great deal of blood in the kitchen. And a big pool around the corpse. You don’t get that amount of blood when someone falls and strikes their head on a sharp edge.”

“You people will have to work out the blood thing. It’s not my job to explain it.”

“What will explain it is the weapon you used. Tell me now; don’t waste time. You’ve got a daughter who’s waiting to hear from you, and we all need to get on with our lives.”

Charlo takes a drink of Farris.

“I can’t see how it matters. She’s dead, tragically. Everything else is just detail, and it won’t bring her back to life again.”

“Think again. You’ll have to defend yourself, and then everything will have to be right. If you stand up in court and lie, the jury will use it against you.”

“But, for Christ’s sake...”

“For his sake, certainly, but most of all for your own. What did you hit her with?”

Charlo squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again. Oh, God. He’d better go the last mile as well. He needs rest; he needs sleep. He needs to come to himself again.

“The butt of a revolver.”

Sejer lets out a contented sigh.

“Well, that’s out in the open. What kind of revolver was it?”

“An old Husqvarna from the war. It belonged to my father. And for the record, it wasn’t loaded. I didn’t want to hurt anyone — only scare them.”

“Instead you used it as a club?”

“Yes, she was so determined. God, I didn’t know what to do. I hit her once on the head. The thing about the kitchen unit wasn’t true. But I didn’t want to look like a cold-blooded murderer, because I’m not. But you’re pushing me so hard. I can’t take any more. We’ve got to end now. I’ve made a clean breast of everything.”

“How many times did you hit her?”

“Only once. Or, well, it might have been twice.”

“Mr. Torp, I repeat: she had thirteen skull fractures.”

“That can’t be right. That’s not the way I remember it.”

“Her skull was smashed. And some of her blood spattered onto your parka.”

Charlo hangs his head. “How did you track me down?” he asks suddenly. “After all this time. I can’t understand it.”

“Straightforward, methodical investigation. Time-consuming work. Countless conversations with lots of people about every minute observation. I’m not giving you more detail than that. But I want to ask you this. Why did you choose Harriet Krohn?”

“Pure chance, really. I sometimes used the same café that she went to with a friend. It’s popular with the elderly. I noticed her at once. She was so plainly dressed, a person who spent little money on herself. Who just saved and saved over the years. She was also very frail, and she wore a thick gold bracelet on her wrist. It was a kind of promise that she was prosperous. I followed her to the green house and saw that she lived alone.”

“So you planned this over time?”

“Not really. I simply felt impelled.”

“Are you ready to make a full statement?”

“Do we have to go through it all over again? I don’t know if I can.”

“I know it’s been an effort, Mr. Torp. The more frank and precise you are, the sooner we’ll be finished. Afterward you can rest.”

“Whatever you do, don’t take the horse away from Julie! I don’t think she’d get over it.”

“You should have thought of that before.”

“But she lives for that horse! And surely she shouldn’t be allowed to suffer for what I’ve done?”

“Did you pay for it with Harriet Krohn’s money?”

“Yes. I sold the silver.”

“To whom?”

“No, I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”

“As things stand, I think you ought to concentrate on yourself and your own situation. And excuse my curiosity, but before we start from the beginning again, there’s one small detail that’s nagging me.”

“Yes?”

“How did you damage that front tooth of yours?”

Charlo puts a hand up to his mouth. Thinks back.

“It happened about five years ago. At the pub. I’d had a bit too much to drink and was paying a visit to the restroom. On the way out, I tripped and my mouth hit the edge of the washbasin. I tripped,” he repeats, and suddenly something dawns on him. He’s always blamed the drink. Perhaps, in reality, his legs gave way under him. Even then. He falls silent.

“What are you thinking about, Mr. Torp?”

“That I should have had it fixed, but I didn’t have the money. It doesn’t look very nice, does it?”

“Not at all,” Sejer says, smiling. “It’s one of those charming little details that people notice and remember.”