Thorleif goes to the living room where he carefully opens one of the curtains and looks out of the window. The cabin lies halfway up the slope, with breathtaking views across Ustaoset and Ustetind at the end of the lake and over the open terrain. It feels good to rest his eyes on the horizon. He sees a tiny aeroplane. Flocks of birds. A car drives down the grey snake of tarmac. Someone is walking from the petrol station to the hotel.
Even though Thorleif isn’t hungry he knows that he has to eat something. He won’t be very much use to himself if his head and body aren’t working. He potters sleepily to the larder and checks his supplies. Nothing very appetising. A few tins of lamb casserole. Peas and ham. Tinned pineapple. He can see he has food for a couple of days, but there are no dried foods, cold meats or beverages. He will have to go shopping.
It occurs to him that the weekend is about to start. People who have finished their summer holidays might already be contemplating getting their cabins ready for the winter season. Many love the vivid autumn colours that have started to emerge. There is bound to be considerably more traffic over the weekend, Thorleif thinks. Consequently, he should buy enough food to last him at least two days. If not longer.
Soon he is leaving the cabin the same way he came in, through the kitchen, the larder and the woodshed. The fresh mountain air feels good on his face. He walks at a steady pace down to the main road and into what he, with a little generosity, can call the centre of Ustaoset. He climbs the grey concrete steps and enters the shop, which he quickly sees is a cross between a Clas Ohlson home store and an Ica supermarket. On entry he is met by a display of all sorts of handy tools. Spades, mops, boiler suits, wellies, snowshoes — even though the snow is a couple of months away.
The first thing Thorleif does is check the newspapers. Tore Pulli’s death is on the front page of both VG and Dagbladet. Aftenposten, too, features Pulli’s death. As does Bergens Tidende. The local newspaper, Hallingdolen, leads with the unusual rise in break-ins in cabins in Ustaoset recently and how the Ustaoset-Haugastol area has been particularly badly affected. Thorleif’s stomach lurches, but he tries to shake it off by wandering around the aisles with the shopping basket. He fills it with a loaf of sliced bread, a tub of cream cheese, two cartons of juice and a large block of milk chocolate. He also picks up both tabloid newspapers on his way out and says a quick thank you to the man behind the till when he gets his receipt.
Thorleif is about to leave, but turns around. ‘Excuse me, do you happen to know if there is a public telephone nearby?’
The man laughs. ‘No, we don’t have those in Ustaoset.’
‘I thought they were everywhere.’
‘Not any more.’
‘Oh, right, no, I don’t suppose they are. I forgot my mobile, you see. Is there anywhere around here you can make calls if you need to.. if you haven’t got one?’
‘You could try the hotel and see if they can help you,’ the man says without the smile leaving his lips.
‘Thank you.’
Thorleif leaves the shop and makes his way to the main entrance of the hotel, but when he gets there the door is locked. He tries it again without success. He presses his face against the glass in the door but sees no movement inside.
‘Damn,’ he says and looks around while he decides what to do next. How on earth can a hotel be shut in the middle of the day? Feeling despondent and even guiltier towards Elisabeth he wanders back to the cabin. There he spreads a few slices of bread with cream cheese and reads the papers without finding anything to suggest that Tore Pulli’s death is being treated as suspicious. But much could have happened since the tabloids went to print. If I’m to know what is going on, Thorleif thinks, I’m going to have to try something else.
Chapter 60
Heidi Kjus gets up as Iver and Henning appear from around the corner looking as if they are about to join the queue of coffee-deprived early birds. Henning can see what she wants to say long before she says it and yet he still lets her make her first management mistake of the day.
‘Where have you been?’
‘We went out for a cigarette,’ Henning mutters.
‘What did you say?’
‘Sorry,’ Iver says and holds up his hands. ‘It’s my fault. Henning and I have just had a meeting to prepare for the morning meeting with you.’
‘That meeting was supposed to start ten minutes ago! And not just because of me, but because of everyone else in the department. Wasting other people’s time shows a lack of respect.’
‘Yes, we know. Sorry. It won’t happen again.’
Heidi turns her attention to Henning. ‘What are you doing here today? I thought you were taking today off as well?’
‘Yes, but I decided I would much rather be here,’ he replies, making no attempt to cover up his irony. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Iver smile.
‘Okay, fine. But are you ready now? Have you finished your little chat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Henning, will you be joining us?’
‘Obviously. It’s the highlight of my day. Do I have time to make a quick phone call first?’
‘To whom?’
‘It’ll only take a minute.’
She checks her watch and sighs. ‘All right then. But be quick.’
Heidi and Iver are sitting alone in the meeting room when Henning enters.
‘So, tell me,’ Heidi says. ‘What are you doing about Tore Pulli?’
Henning and Iver look at each other.
‘The preliminary autopsy report will probably be ready sometime today,’ Iver says.
‘Okay. Anything else?’
Iver and Henning exchange glances, but neither of them says anything.
‘Is that it?’ she asks, suspiciously.
Henning clears his throat. ‘One of the people present when Pulli died has gone missing.’
Iver and Heidi both look at Henning.
‘Missing how? Has he done a runner?’ she asks.
‘Nobody knows yet. I’ve just been speaking to the police. He was supposed to turn up at the station to make a statement last night, but no one has seen him since yesterday, since Pulli died.’
‘Do the police suspect him of anything?’
‘Not at the moment. But they would very much like to know what he has been up to.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Thorleif Brenden. He’s a cameraman.’
‘Perhaps the shutter went down for him,’ Iver jokes.
‘An experienced cameraman who has covered wars and atrocities all over the world? He goes AWOL just because he sees a man collapse and die in prison?’
Iver says nothing.
‘Besides, he lives with his girlfriend and their two children,’ Henning adds.
‘There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he is missing,’ Heidi suggests.
‘Sure, but it’s still a remarkable coincidence.’
Heidi makes a quick note on the pad in front of her. ‘Okay,’ she says, in her summing-up voice. ‘We need some scoops‚ boys. Real news. It’s been a long time.’
Chapter 61
Iver Gundersen places another steaming cup of coffee on his desk and sits down. An avalanche of emails has arrived since he last checked, but not one of them is from Nora. They always say hi to each other in the morning, especially if they haven’t spent the night together. He sent her a few lines just before Henning turned up, but she has yet to respond. He guesses she is still sulking and checks his mobile. No messages there either.
He finds her number and lets it ring for a long time, but there is no reply. With a dawning realisation that she may be not only sulking but also mad at him, he decides to leave a message. Before he starts to talk, he glances around, quickly checking that there is no one in the immediate vicinity. He hears the beep at the other end.