"That's what's worrying me. I did call him later to know if she had arrived. Perhaps taken another taxi. You see, I'm a taxi driver in Elvestad. In fact, the only one," he said. "Or she might have gone to a hotel, something like that. But his reply was so vague. I don't think he dares to think about it. He's not quite himself and it's all become too much for him, with his sister and everything. That's why I'm calling."
"What is his name?" Skarre said, fumbling for a pen.
"Gunder Jomann. He lives a little out of the middle of Elvestad, Blindveien 2. It's a dead end. I don't know if he's at home now; he may be at the hospital. Anyway, as I said, I'm really worried. Perhaps she tried to find her own way when Jomann wasn't there to meet her as she had expected. And then something happened to her on the way."
"I understand," Skarre said. "Do you have her name?"
"Yes," he said. "I put it somewhere on a piece of paper, but I'm wearing a different shirt today. I put it in my breast pocket."
"Can you find it for me?" Skarre said.
"That shirt could be in the washing machine. Damnation!" he said. "You're not going straight to his house now, are you?" he said. "I could be quite wrong."
"By no means," Skarre said firmly. "We're grateful for your help. We'll look into it."
He hung up. They looked at one another.
"We're going straight there," Sejer said.
The powerful headlights from a car swept across his yard. Gunder was startled. Could it be Karsten? He ran his hands over his balding head and hurried into the hall. Reluctantly he opened the door. When he saw the police car he took a step back. Sejer came up the steps with his hand held out.
"Jomann?"
"Yes."
His handshake was firm.
"I'm Inspector Sejer, this is my colleague Skarre. Could we come inside for a moment?"
Gunder led the way and stopped in the living room. He looked at the two men. One was around two metres tall and close to him in age. The other was a good deal younger and had big blond curls.
"Perhaps you know why we're here?" Sejer said.
Gunder stuttered. "I suppose it has something to do with the accident?"
"Your sister's, you mean?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry to hear about your sister," Sejer said. "How is she doing?"
"Her husband has come back from Hamburg. He's with her now. He has promised to call. She's still in a coma."
Sejer nodded. "This is about something else."
Gunder's heart sank. "Then please sit down," he said softly. He gestured vaguely. He seemed tense. It looked as if he wanted to run from the house. Sejer and Skarre sat on the sofa and looked about the tidy, orderly room. Sejer watched Jomann fiddling with something on the wall, a little further away.
"I'm sorry," Gunder said as he joined them. "There was just something important I had to write down. There's a lot happening these days, a lot happening, normally I'm on top of things, but as you know, suddenly everything comes crashing down and knocks you completely off… off…"
He bit his lip and gave them a terrified look.
"We're here because of your wife. Has she arrived safely?"
Gunder swallowed. "My wife?"
"Yes," Sejer said. "Your Indian wife. We understand that you were expecting her to arrive aGardermoen on the 20th and that you sent a friend to collect her. Has she arrived?"
Sejer already knew the answer. Gunder hesitated. They were moved by his evident despair.
"Kalle called you?" he said feebly.
"Yes," Skarre said. "Perhaps we can help?"
"Help?" Gunder said. "In what way? Everything's gone wrong lately. I haven't been to work either, not for several days. No-one knows if Marie will regain consciousness. Or how her head will be if she wakes up at all. She's all I have."
"Yes," Sejer said. "And your wife. You were married recently, isn't that so?"
Gunder was silent once more. Sejer let him sit on in silence.
"I was," came the almost inaudible reply.
"You were married on a holiday in India?"
"Yes."
"What's her name?" said Sejer kindly.
"Poona," Gunder said. "Poona Bai Jomann." His voice was tinged with pride.
"Have you any idea why she has not arrived as planned?"
Gunder looked out of the window for a moment. "Not really."
"What steps have you taken so far to find her?"
"I don't really know what to do. Should I go looking for her on the roads? And then there's my sister, there has been so much going on with her."
"Perhaps your wife has relatives?"
"Only an older brother. In New Delhi. But I don't remember his name." He felt ashamed. Imagine forgetting the name of his own brother-in-law.
Sejer recognised that feeling of unease in his stomach.
"What do you think has happened to her?"
"I don't know!" he shouted with sudden intensity. "But this much I do know, you think that she's the one they found at Hvitemoen!"
Gunder began to shake uncontrollably. Skarre closed his eyes. Simultaneously he thought: we don't know this man. He's at the end of his wits, but we don't know why.
"We don't believe anything of the kind," Sejer said. "What we're trying to do at this stage is to eliminate her from our enquiries. Sometimes we work in this way. We don't know who the victim is and that troubles us. So we thought we would ask you a few questions. We can probably decide here and now if we need to undertake further enquiries."
"Yes," Gunder said. He was doing his best to be calm.
"Let's begin. Do you have a photograph of your wife?"
Gunder looked away. "No," he lied.
"Indeed?"
"We didn't have a proper wedding photograph taken. There's only so much you can do in a fortnight," he said curtly.
"Yes, of course. I was thinking more of an ordinary photograph. One that you perhaps took of her on another occasion?"
"No, I have no such thing."
He's not telling us the truth. He doesn't want us to see it.
"But naturally you can describe her. Perhaps that's all we need."
Gunder closed his eyes. "She's pretty," he said and a broad smile creased his face. "Very slim and light, not a large or a heavy woman. Indian women aren't as big. I mean, as big as Norwegian ones."
"No, they're not." Sejer smiled. He allowed himself to be charmed by this shy man and the simple way he expressed himself.
"She has brown eyes and black hair. It comes down to her waist, it's that long. It is always plaited in one long plait."
The two men nodded. Sejer looked anxious.
"How would she normally be dressed?"
"Ordinary clothes. Like Norwegian women. Unless it was a special occasion. Then she wore sandals. That's all they wear there. Low-heeled brown sandals. She worked at a tandoori restaurant and needed sensible footwear. But for going out she wore different clothes and shoes. When we were married she wore a sari and gold sandals."
There was a profound silence in Gunder's living room.
"On the other hand," he said, quickly because the silence alarmed him, "lots of Indian women have long plaits and gold sandals."
"I quite understand," Sejer said. "Is there anything else?" he said. "Do you want to tell us about your stay there?"
Gunder gave him a puzzled look. All the same it was good to talk about Poona to someone who was willing to listen to him.
"How did you celebrate your wedding?" Sejer said.
"It was a simple wedding. Just the two of us. We had dinner at a very smart restaurant, which Poona knew about. We had a main course, dessert and coffee. Then we walked round a park and made plans for all the things that needed doing to the house and the garden. Poona wanted to get a job. Her English is good and she is a hard worker. Not many Norwegian girls could keep up with her, believe you me." Gunder felt hot and his face was flushed. "She'd bought me a present. An Indian wedding cake, and I had to eat all of it. It was pretty awful, sweet and sticky, but I managed to get it down. Well, when it comes to Poona, I'd have eaten an Indian elephant if she'd asked me."