‘What an idiot,’ Hagen sighs.
‘Yes, but that’s just it,’ Bjarne says. ‘It seems like a white lie to me. He doesn’t want to tell us where he really was or what he was doing. So he says the first thing that comes into his head.’
‘In which case he’s unlikely to be a hardened criminal,’ Nøkleby says. ‘If he lies about something we can quite easily find out.’
‘I agree,’ Bjarne says.
But the point Nøkleby has just made troubles him. Only a total amateur would drop himself in it like that. It’s not the action of a man capable of bashing knitting needles into the eyes of an old lady. It is too crude and too brutal. But the care workers at Grünerhjemmet are up to something, he just doesn’t know what or how he can get to the bottom of it – or indeed if it has anything to do with Erna Pedersen’s death.
‘Do we have anything else?’ Gjerstad says.
No one says anything.
‘Okay,’ Gjerstad says, getting up. ‘What do you think, Pia – Nielsen’s flat first and the care home afterwards?’
Pia Nøkleby nods.
Chapter 32
Henning’s hips ache as he gets up from the rough seating planks. His legs feel stiff and he shakes them to boost his circulation.
He stops at the entrance to watch Adil and his friend who have sat down on the ground. They are not talking to each other; they just watch others play football on the Astroturf.
Henning turns and looks around for the boy’s father, the man he met behind Grünerhjemmet yesterday, the man who was in such a rush to get home to his son. His son, who was the first person to realise that something was terribly wrong with Erna Pedersen.
Henning bends down, slips through a gap in the fence and carefully approaches the boys.
‘Hi, boys,’ he says. Only the boy with the blond fringe turns to face him. Henning smiles as he takes another step forwards.
‘So you’re a United fan too?’ he says to Adil, pointing to the sticker of Wayne Rooney on his sports bag. The name of the football club makes Adil glance up at Henning.
‘Is Rooney your favourite player?’
It takes a few seconds, then he nods.
‘Mine too. But then again I’m a big fan of all the Man U players.’
Henning smiles and sees a tiny twitch reflected in the corner of Adil’s mouth.
‘Boys, I’ve been watching you practise. Can I show you something?’
The blond boy continues to sit motionless on the ground. Adil looks up at him; this time his gaze is more alert.
‘Come on then, up you get.’
Adil hesitates.
‘Come on,’ Henning says again. ‘It works, I promise you.’
He holds out his hand to help Adil to his feet, but the boy doesn’t take it. Instead he looks at his friend before he gets up unaided.
‘Do you have a football in your sports bag?’
Adil slowly loosens the strings and takes out a ball. Henning smiles.
‘A Man U football. Good heavens,’ he says and looks at the ball, which is printed with pictures of the whole team. He squeezes it. Not enough air. But it will have to do.
‘Right, let’s get started,’ Henning says, putting the ball on the ground. ‘Can you see that wall over there?’
He points to a high wall at the end of the football pitch. He takes care not to look at the other boy.
‘The best way to practise passing and gaining possession of the ball is to kick it against a wall. That way you have a fellow player who never moves. Watch me.’
Henning kicks the ball quite hard. It hits the wall and bounces back.
‘When the ball comes back towards you, you stick out your foot to meet it and then you use your foot to slow it down. You have to move your leg or the ball will simply slip under your foot. It’ll be much harder for you to regain possession of the ball. Do you understand?’
Henning demonstrates again and stops the ball with his foot.
‘Your turn.’
Adil is still a little reluctant. Then he takes a step back, kicks the ball, but has to move to the side to stop it as it comes back. It jumps out from under his foot, just like before. He looks at Henning.
‘Okay, not bad. But you saw what happened if you don’t kick the ball straight to your teammate, didn’t you? It forces him to move to one side and makes it more difficult for him to control the ball. Have another go. And remember your foot is there to slow down the speed of the ball, not to stop it completely. Your foot is not a wall. Come on, try again.’
Adil sets down the ball on the ground, kicks it, it hits the wall and this time he doesn’t have to move; it comes straight back towards him. He sticks out his foot again. Same result, the ball escapes.
‘Try to exaggerate the movement to start with so you learn how the ball behaves. And try to relax your foot, let your leg be loose and flexible when the ball comes towards you.’
Henning demonstrates again and then it’s Adil’s turn.
This time the ball doesn’t roll quite as far away from his foot as it did before.
‘Great,’ Henning shouts out a little louder than he had intended. ‘Good job! Now do the same again. And relax your leg even more.’
Adil kicks the ball against the wall one more time. Then he sticks out his foot and slows down the speed of the ball so it comes to a halt against his trainer.
Henning says nothing; he just waits for Adil to look at him.
‘I don’t think even Wayne Rooney could have managed that.’
Adil smiles shyly.
‘So all you have to do now is to practise this again and again until you can do it in your sleep.’
Adil smiles. Henning goes over to him and ruffles his hair.
‘You did really well.’
Adil doesn’t say anything, but this time he looks straight at Henning. Henning turns and looks at the blond boy.
‘So how about you? Do you fancy a go?’
Chapter 33
Not only does Henning show the boys how to practise passing, he also teaches them how to improve their technique by keeping the ball in the air with either foot, not just their better one. He also shows them basic techniques for side foot passing, again using both their left and their right feet. Standing in a triangle, they kick the ball back and forth to each other. And Henning can see that the boys pay attention to his instructions.
They have been practising for about an hour when Henning says he is tired and needs to sit down for a little while. Adil and his friend do likewise; their brows are sweaty.
‘Doesn’t your coach ever show you things like that?’ Henning asks.
The boys shake their heads.
‘Nobody gets better from being yelled at,’ Henning says. ‘Don’t you agree?’
The boys nod.
Henning leans back on his elbows. It’s a long time since he last played football. He has lost count of the number of times Jonas and he would come down here on a Sunday morning where they would have the whole pitch to themselves. Jonas in goal. Jonas taking penalties. Practising side foot passing, doing ball tricks using both feet. He could have kept going all day if Henning had let him. Without even stopping for food.
Henning looks over at the boy whose name he has learned is Ulrik, a boy who reminds him a little of Jonas. Same facial colouring, same hair. But where Jonas was a powder keg, frequently exploding, Ulrik is withdrawn. He is more of a thinker and not quite so chatty. Jonas talked the whole time. He used to ask all sorts of questions.
‘Do you know what happened to me today?’ Henning says, and doesn’t continue until he is sure that he has the attention of both boys. ‘I saw a bird get hit by a car in Markveien. It didn’t die; the car just clipped it so the bird rolled over and landed near the kerb.’