She bit at the pale strip of her underlip.
– It’s over twenty years ago now, but I’ll tell you this, Signy, it’s a sight I will never forget. Never.
– What happened?
Ingeborg sat for a while with her eyes closed. To Signy her eyelids seemed as sheer as tissue paper. It was as though the old woman were looking straight through them at her.
– We went to the cabin, up in the forest, she said at length, the eyes expressionless when she opened them again. – And what a mess when we got up there. Bottles everywhere, filthy clothes and unwashed dishes, a broken window so it was freezing cold inside. First off we couldn’t find the boys anywhere. Not until we went down into the cellar. They were locked inside, both of them. And there was Arve with his arms around Oswald, trying to keep him warm.
– Arve? wondered Signy.
Ingeborg took out a handkerchief and blew into it.
– Oswald’s older brother. They’d been sitting down there for days. The father had given them a bottle of water and tossed them a few crusts of bread before he took off.
– So then you did something?
– Oh yes. Young Arve was fostered with some people down in Lillestrøm. Oswald was taken into institutional care, and now he’s never had it so good. But we waited too long before doing anything… Well, the father was sentenced for child neglect. Served a few months. When he got out, he lived like an animal up in that cabin. Drank himself to death in the end.
Suddenly Ingeborg’s wizened face lit up.
– But I’ll tell you this, Signy, that Arve Norbakk is what they call a real superkid. It’s amazing how well he’s managed. Before we found foster parents for him, he was living with us, and I’ve been following his progress ever since.
She exposed a line of pearly white teeth that looked completely genuine.
– Always bright and positive, that Arve. The only thing that upset him was if someone said something bad about his father. Then he’d scream and carry on. If the police hadn’t locked his father up, according to Arve, he would never have drunk himself to death. He hated the police more than anything else. Not counting his mother, who’d left them. I was so worried about him. But then he calmed down, and he never spoke about either one of them again.
– My God, Signy exclaimed. – What could make a child say something like that?
Ingeborg sighed and looked at her watch.
– Well well, Signy, I suppose we’d better go in and wake Oswald, or he’ll be up all night again.
Signy jumped to her feet.
– Just you sit there.
She opened the door to Oswald’s room. A blast of wind struck her from the wide-open window. The bed was empty.
64
NOT UNTIL SHE’D started the car and Viken had jumped in beside her did Nina get round to asking where they were going.
Viken said: – Arve checked the list of calls to Glenne’s mobile phone. Somebody called him from a landline in Tåsenveien at three minutes past nine yesterday evening. The owner of the house is a Rita Jentoft.
– Jentoft? I’ve heard that name somewhere before… We interviewed her. I think it was Sigge.
– Correct. Fifty-two-year-old woman, born in Gravdal in Vestvågøy county, lived in Oslo for twenty-five years. Widowed for the last eight. Trained medical secretary. Now works at a certain clinic in Bogstadveien. No previous convictions. Want her income tax details?
– I get it, said Nina. – His secretary.
She stopped at the entrance to the driveway. A patrol had already arrived. Viken jumped out even before she turned the engine off. Two constables in uniform stood on the steps.
– No one answered when we rang the bell, one of them said. – The door isn’t locked but we were given orders to wait for you.
– The back, barked Viken.
– We’ve got a man there.
– Good. Then let’s go in.
He opened the door.
– Police! he shouted from the hallway.
Ten minutes later, they had established that the house was empty, from basement to loft.
The waiting room at the Bogstadveien medical centre was packed. A woman wheeled a pram back and forth in front of the reception desk. The child inside screeched and howled. The telephone ringing behind the counter sounded almost as angry, but there was no one there to take the call. Viken opened the glass side door and let Nina in front of him into a corridor. On the right was a door to a storage room with shelves full of hypodermic syringes and other items and equipment. Another door had Axel Glenne’s name on it. It was unlocked, the office within dark and empty. On the next door the sign read Inger Beate Garberg. Viken knocked and stepped inside in the same moment. A woman in a white coat turned towards him. Her long greyish hair hung in a braid down her back. On a bench behind her was a man with his legs drawn up. He was naked from the waist down.
– What’s going on here? the doctor shouted, pointing at Viken with her plastic-gloved finger. – You’ve no right to come barging in like this.
Viken mumbled a sort of apology. – Police, he explained. – Can we have a word with you? Now.
Dr Garberg came out into the corridor with them. She was half a head taller than Viken, and he looked a little ill at ease.
– Where is Rita Jentoft? asked Nina.
Dr Garberg rolled her eyes.
– In reception, I presume, or gone to the toilet, I have no idea.
– Have you seen Axel Glenne since yesterday evening? Viken wanted to know.
– No, the doctor seethed, – I have not seen him, and it’s about time you left that man alone. You’ve done enough as it is. How is he supposed to deal with all that stuff you’ve released to the newspapers about him? It’s the most disgraceful thing I’ve ever come across.
She was incandescent with rage, and Viken took a couple of paces back. He almost collided with a small, stout woman who emerged from the door behind him.
– What’s all the shouting about? she wondered.
Ignoring her, Dr Garberg continued her tirade. She peeled off the plastic glove, crumpled it and tossed it to the floor. Now it was about the patients’ archives, which the police had been interfering with without her permission.
– I’ll deal with this, Inger Beate, said the stout woman, and led them into Glenne’s office.
Viken nudged Nina.
– Our female medical friend is suffering from hysteria, he diagnosed. – Recommended treatment, half a bottle of red wine and a roll in the hay.
Rita Jentoft had what Nina would call shock-bleached hair. Not really suitable for a woman past forty. But she was smart, and friendly, and she gave precise answers to all their questions.
– Are you sure about that? Nina repeated. – Did Glenne say that he had told the police about what he had found in Miriam Gaizauskaite’s flat?
– I’ve told you twice, and I’ll tell you twice more if you like, Rita Jentoft answered. – Axel was in a state of shock over what he’d found. He was terrified something might have happened to that student. She almost spat the last word out. – That was why it was life and death for him to get down here to find that envelope.
– What envelope?
The secretary didn’t mind telling them.
On their way back out to the car, Nina said: – What she says seems credible enough. It would explain how Glenne’s fingerprints ended up on the photos.
Viken grunted. – I’ll admit it’s probable the woman believes it herself, he conceded. – She seems the naïve type. It won’t surprise anyone to learn that Glenne is a world champion manipulator of other people.
His mobile phone rang. He took the call and listened for a few seconds before saying:
– Aker Brygge? You’ve warned Central? Good, we’ll be there in a couple of minutes. By the way, Nina tells me that this Miriam was engaged; obviously we need to find out more about that too… Got that?