He noticed two things: Gunnarstranda was smoking and Fristad was not complaining. Frølich looked from one to the other.
‘We would like to discuss the facts of the case with you,’ Fristad said concisely.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Does that strike you as strange?’
‘Not strange, simply different.’
‘well…’ Fristad lowered his gaze, but decided against commenting on his response. Instead he said: ‘What do you consider the most important thing to do now – at this stage of the investigation?’
‘In my view, the smartest move would be to talk to Narvesen again,’ Frølich said.
‘You’ll have to stop this business with Narvesen,’ Fristad exclaimed angrily.
‘You asked me what I would do,’ Frølich retorted. ‘And my opinion is that Narvesen should be asked whether he knows the painting Rognstad was talking about.’
‘You believe Rognstad was telling the truth then? Ilijaz and company took the painting when they robbed the safe in 1998?’
‘Rognstad didn’t say that. He said the painting was in the safety-deposit box. He didn’t say one word about the break-in, but I’m sure he was holding back about the Narvesen burglary so that he wouldn’t be charged. On the other hand, if Rognstad was telling the truth about the painting, the odds are that it came from the safe. I believe both the painting and the money were in the safe when it was stolen in 1998. I believe Jonny Faremo was involved in the theft. So for this gang it wasn’t just half a million in the safe, but many more millions. And they deposited the contents in the bank.’
‘But why did they do that?’ Fristad asked.
‘They wanted to wait until Ilijaz got out before dividing their spoils. The usual musketeer motto amongst gangsters: One for all and all for one, and all that crap.’
‘A little while ago this painting was taken from the vault by an… an unknown person. But why? The picture is unsaleable.’
‘Not at all. There is a market for this kind of art. And clearly we have a buyer here. A man who withdrew five million in cash from his account less than two weeks ago.’
‘Narvesen? Was he going to buy the picture back? From whom?’
‘Vidar Ballo and Merethe Sandmo.’
No one said a word for a considerable time.
Frølich broke the silence. ‘Let’s take it from the beginning. The three of them are acquitted after the Loenga murder hearing. Then Jonny Faremo is killed. Suddenly his lover Merethe has the hots for Ballo. Furthermore, she is seen in Fagernes the same day Jonny Faremo’s sister dies in an arson attack on a chalet.’
‘You’re probably still a bit fixated on this Elisabeth Faremo, but I like the idea that Narvesen buys back the picture,’ Fristad said. ‘Then again, five million is a fairly low figure. A picture of this kind would have sold for ten million ten years ago.’
‘Yes, but the figure is dependent on negotiations,’ Frølich said. ‘This gang of robbers had something on Narvesen after the theft of the safe in 1998. They opened the safe and discovered that Narvesen owned a stolen painting – one subject to investigations all over the world – art which was considered part of Italy’s cultural heritage. Narvesen also had something on them: they had stolen items of great value, and grand larceny is a punishable offence. So both parties had a vested interest in keeping stumm. The painting may be worth fifteen or twenty million today, no one knows for sure. But it can only be sold to individual collectors. The only collector Faremo, Ballo and Rognstad knew was Narvesen.’
‘Wait, wait, wait,’ Fristad raised his hand in objection. ‘What are you saying? Are you saying that Narvesen could be sitting on the picture now?’
‘I believe so,’ Frølich said. ‘I believe the reason he followed me to Hemsedal and tried to set fire to…’
‘Wait a minute. No unfounded accusations.’
‘OK. I can try to reformulate the reasoning. If Narvesen has the picture, it would explain why he’s so angry with me. He wants to shift attention away from the 1998 break-in and himself. If he has the picture – for all we know, he may be keeping it at home – it is particularly inconvenient for him that I look him up, go to his house and start digging and asking questions.’
Fristad looked across at Gunnarstranda, who was smoking slowly and deliberately.
‘Narvesen rang me to check we weren’t continuing the investigation connected with the robbery of his safe. It makes sense – if he’s sitting on the painting. But even if he is,’ Gunnarstranda said, ‘we can’t prove it.’
‘But who sold the picture back to Narvesen?’ Fristad asked.
‘Ballo,’ Frølich said. ‘Everything points to him and Merethe playing the others off against each other. We know the two of them were an item the day after Jonny died. Even Jim Rognstad, who knows Ballo best, suspects him. You and I heard that.’
Fristad looked at Frølich. ‘Thank you, Frølich,’ he said.
When Frølich had gone, the two men studied each other’s faces for an impression.
‘What do you think?’ asked Fristad.
‘I never think anything.’
‘No gut instinct?’
‘Not even that.’
‘Ignoring our assumption that he is emotionally involved and believes what he says, suppose Narvesen is sitting on the picture. Can we take any action? Can we search his house, for example?’
‘We can’t, but Sørlie can. Eco-Crime can whack a charge down on the table, alleging that the five million he withdrew in cash is being used for money-laundering. Then they can search his house and his office.’
‘But will they find the painting?’
‘Doubtful. He might have put it in a bloody safety-deposit box,’ Gunnarstranda grinned.
‘And he gets a solicitor who tears our arguments to shreds and says we’ve been taken in by some cock-and-bull story from Rognstad, who probably cooked something up to get a lighter sentence.’
‘But if Eco-Crime and Sørlie take action, that side of things will never have to see the light of day. One of our people could be on the team.’
‘Who?’ Fristad asked immediately. ‘Frank Frølich is out of the running.’
‘I had Emil Yttergjerde in mind,’ Gunnarstranda decided. ‘I’ll put a good word in for him with Sørlie.’
Fristad left. Gunnarstranda had just managed to get his legs behind his desk when Lena Stigersand arrived with a large pile of papers. ‘Bull’s eye,’ she said and sat down so hard the chair rolled back more than a metre.
‘Out with it.’
Lena Stigersand brandished the papers. ‘Merethe Sandmo. She caught the plane from Oslo to Athens on 30 November. With Lufthansa via Munich.’
Gunnarstranda stood up. ‘Ballo?’ he asked.
Lena Stigersand shook her head. ‘His name’s not on the list.’
‘So she travelled on her own?’
‘That’s not definite. He may have travelled under another name.’
‘When did the chalet burn down?’
Lena Stigersand checked the papers. ‘28 November. During the night of 28/29 November. It was Sunday night, Monday morning.’
‘On Sunday Merethe Sandmo has dinner with an unidentified man in Fagernes. The same evening the chalet burns down with Elisabeth Faremo inside. The timing is perfect. End of November and the summer season, so no one else is around. And any weekenders in the area will have travelled back to Oslo on Sunday night. They strike at night. It ends with the murder of Elisabeth Faremo, which they try to disguise with a fire. On Monday they’re back in Oslo. Tuesday, Merethe Sandmo – and in all probability Ballo – is sitting on a plane to Athens.’
Gunnarstranda stood lost in thought before continuing: ‘Have you contacted the Greek police?’
‘Usual procedure. Interpol office at Kripos. Photo and description of Merethe Sandmo are being faxed to Athens now, I understand. Didn’t she get a job at a strip club?’