‘So your mother had many enemies?’
Pedersen snorts.
‘My mother was a real bitch. It’s a miracle that my father managed to stay married to her for all those years. Don’t get me wrong – she was my mother and I loved her in my own way. I made sure that she got a place at Grünerhjemmet because I had neither the time nor the inclination to look after her myself. Now that last bit you don’t need to include in your story, but despite her behaviour I wanted her to end her life in comfort. And with the exception of her actual death, I think she was really quite happy where she was.’
Henning nods to himself as he senses the temptation of handing over the responsibility for his mother to someone who can do a better job than him.
‘I’ve heard that there was quite a lot of vandalism done to your mother’s house while she lived in Jessheim?’
‘Yes, at one point it almost seemed as if it had become a sport.’
‘Did you ever find out who did it?’
‘No, but I know that my mother had her suspicions. And there were several different gangs of kids who could have done it. You only had to look at the graffiti on the walls of Jessheim School.’
‘Do you happen to know if anyone hated her more than others?’
Pedersen is quiet for a few moments.
‘Not that I can recall. Don’t forget it’s a really long time ago.’
Henning raises his gaze in the pause that follows. He spots Adil walking towards the Astroturf with a bag slung over his shoulder.
‘I presume the police have interviewed you?’
‘They have.’
‘Then they’ve probably asked you if you suspect anyone of murdering your mother.’
Pedersen waits a little before he replies.
‘They have.’
‘And do you?’
Long pause. Henning doesn’t push him.
‘No. But I’m concerned that someone might have a grudge against me too.’
Henning sits up.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m thinking about the damaged photo in my mother’s room.’
Henning doesn’t interrupt, but lets Pedersen tell him the story in his own words. And when he has finished, Henning feels a slight chill down his neck.
‘So do you have any enemies? Someone you’ve reason to be scared of?’
‘No. And that’s what I told the police.’
‘Okay.’
At that moment Henning sees another boy walking towards the football pitch, holding hands with his mother. And suddenly he remembers who the boy’s father is.
‘Thank you for being so frank with me, Pedersen. I really appreciate it.’
Henning gets up and looks at the boy.
‘You’re welcome. So will you be writing about my mother?’
Henning thinks about it.
‘Yes, I hope so. But right now I don’t know what kind of story it’s going to be.’
Chapter 31
The incident room is filled with officers and investigators. As usual everyone’s attention is focused at the head of the boardroom table where Arild Gjerstad is reviewing the discoveries, evidence and facts of the murder case.
‘How far have you got with interviewing people at the care home?’ he asks.
Emil Hagen clears his throat.
‘We’ve yet to cross the finishing line.’
‘Does anyone stand out?’
Hagen shakes his head.
‘Many people have alibied each other and most of them say that they didn’t see anything. We’re going to have to be a little more thorough in our interviews.’
Gjerstad nods. ‘Forensics have finished analysing the crumbs and the dust they found on Erna Pedersen’s clothing,’ he informs them, running his index finger and thumb over his moustache. ‘It’s rock, that’s all. Tiny rock fragments, probably from the other weapon that we’ve yet to trace.’
‘The weapon used to whack the knitting needles into her eyes?’ Ella Sandland asks. Gjerstad nods to confirm it is.
‘A few wool fibres were found on one of the fragments. Wool with a tiny speck of glue.’
‘Wool?’ Emil Hagen says in disbelief and licks his upper lip.
‘Rock, wool and glue,’ Gjerstad says, looking around. ‘What does that make?’
The officers stare at each other.
‘Hair,’ Sandland says.
More baffled expressions.
‘Didn’t you ever make stone trolls when you were little?’
‘No,’ Hagen says quickly and snorts at the same time.
‘You take two stones,’ Sandland explains. ‘You glue them together and decorate them with straw or wool or something like that to make the hair. Then you paint on the eyes, the nose and the mouth. It’s a very popular activity in nurseries and schools.’
‘That’s what Ann-Mari Sara thought as well,’ Gjerstad says. ‘So we’re probably looking for a stone troll that has lost a little hair and has dents or marks from knitting needles.’
Hagen shakes his head.
‘Do people normally make stone trolls in a care home?’ he asks and looks at Sandland.
‘I haven’t seen that particular activity before, but it’s not uncommon for patients to take part in different kinds of art and craft work – if they feel up to it. But I asked one of the care workers about leisure activities and it’s not something they do very much of.’
‘So how did the stone troll end up there?’ Pia Nøkleby asks.
Bjarne coughs and looks at Sandland.
‘Daniel Nielsen had something similar on his table when we visited him earlier today, but I didn’t notice if it was dented. And I don’t think he would be stupid enough to keep a weapon in plain sight. Incidentally, it was right next to a loo roll.’
‘Perhaps he’s one of those guys who gets turned on by that,’ Hagen suggests.
‘Turned on by what?’ Sandland frowns.
‘The guy lives alone. Murder weapon. Loo roll.’
Sandland still looks clueless. Hagen sighs in despair.
‘Perhaps he was sitting there looking at his weapon, reliving the whole episode and got so excited that he needed something to wipe up the mess afterwards,’ he says.
‘I know what you meant. I just wanted to see if you had the guts to say it out loud,’ Sandland replies with a mischievous smile.
‘It might have been the little boy who made the stone troll,’ Bjarne suggests. ‘According to his father the boy came with him to work quite often. He was a popular visitor. Perhaps he made several stone trolls at school and brought one with him as a present. You know how kids love giving away things they’ve made themselves. He could have given one to Erna Pedersen and that’s another reason to surmise that the killing wasn’t premeditated. The use of the Bible also suggests that. Erna Pedersen always had it lying on her bedside table.
Bjarne can feel that he is starting to warm to his subject.
‘So you’re saying the killer simply used whatever he found in the room?’ Gjerstad says.
Bjarne nods.
The room falls silent for a few seconds.
‘It’s a good theory,’ Gjerstad then says.
‘There’s something else about Nielsen,’ Bjarne says and quickly summarises Nielsen and Sund’s trip up to Holmenkollen earlier that day.
‘And you’re quite sure it was Ole Christian Sund driving Pernille Thorbjørnsen’s car?’ Nøkleby asks.
‘Absolutely,’ Bjarne nods.
‘But you don’t know the address they went to or what they did when they got there?’
‘No. But there is something fishy about Daniel Nielsen, I’m sure of it. I’ve already caught him lying to me once. He never worked out at Svein’s Gym that morning, like he told me. I checked.’