She didn’t answer; she just glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. They resumed their walk in silence, side by side. Frank Frølich broke the silence: ‘I know you postponed selling the painting back when Ilijaz was imprisoned, but for some reason you planned to sell it back without the others knowing. Why?’
Again she didn’t answer.
‘I’ve understood that you joined forces with Merethe Sandmo – against the men – that night in November when she went with the gang as a driver, when your brother and she were witnesses to murder.’
She stopped.
He said: ‘I woke up when you were talking to Merethe. And I realize she must have been very depressed when she told you about the guard who was knocked to the ground, but how did you get her to tip off the police?’
‘You’re wrong,’ she snapped. ‘What must you think of me?’ Her blue eyes flashed. ‘Merethe was a stupid cow. Why would I ask her to squeal on my own brother? When Merethe rang, she’d already talked to the police. She rang me to talk about it, to be comforted. That just tells you how downright simple-minded this woman was. She had begged again and again to take part in one of the jobs; she wanted the kicks. When she finally got her way she came face to face with reality. And then the daft bitch chose to ring the cops and tell them what had happened!’
‘Perhaps she wanted someone to help the man who was dying?’ Frank Frølich objected meekly. ‘He was lying in a pool of blood.’
‘If that was the idea, she wouldn’t have needed to give names, but she told the cops who was on the job – she named everyone except herself. So I was forced to stand up for my brother. You know that – don’t you?’
The sapphire eyes were soft again. Three shades of blue, he thought. The sky, the dress and her eyes.
They suddenly came closer. ‘When I left you that night,’ she whispered, ‘it was because I had to help Jonny. But I didn’t want to get you involved, do you understand? I couldn’t know you were going to work on that very case, could I?’
Frølich was staring at her hand. Her long, slim fingers were stroking his forearm.
‘I see it a little differently,’ he answered in a whisper.
Her fingers stopped caressing him.
‘You left the key to the safety-deposit box at my place.’
‘It was secure there.’
‘Very practical as well. When the men were banged up, you got hold of the second key. When they were released, you were on your way to Askim with one key in your pocket and the other in safekeeping at my flat. You drove to Askim after giving your testimony at the hearing. You identified yourself as Ilijaz Zupac at the bank. You took the painting from the vault.’
She was gazing at the horizon, silent.
‘Didn’t Jonny know what you were planning?’ he asked.
She didn’t answer.
‘So he did know,’ he concluded.
‘Have you ever thought that when a plane is moving down the runway to take off,’ she said, ‘it’s something absolute, final. Acceleration increases, it goes faster and faster. But the runway is so short that when it has reached sufficient speed it would be impossible for it to stop. Putting on the brakes would cause a disaster. There’s only one solution, to keep going, to get the plane off the ground.’
‘Jonny met you there, in the bank, didn’t he?’
‘What do you actually want?’ she said, irritated. ‘Have you come here to tell me how smart you are?’
‘For me personally, it’s important to have the facts out in the open.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, basically, this is about you, about me, about us.’
They looked into each other’s eyes again. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked softly.
‘I know Jonny drove to Askim while you were there. I know he was seen with another person on a tractor track leading down to the Glomma. I know your brother either slipped and fell into the river or he was pushed by the person he was with. Would you help me to complete the picture?’
‘What do you mean, this is about us?’ she asked again.
‘Jonny was in Askim,’ he persisted. ‘You were there too.’
She turned to him. Her blue eyes observed him from a distance, dreamily. ‘I don’t believe you. For you, this is not about us. It’s just about you.’
‘Was his drowning an accident?’
‘Of course! What did you think?’
‘Who suggested going for a walk by the river?’
‘I did.’
‘Why?’
‘To calm him down.’
‘I’m not sure if I believe you.’
‘You can believe what you like. No one will ever come between me and my brother.’
‘But you didn’t ring emergency services when he fell in – although the river has a strong current and the water was damned cold. Jonny would have had hypothermia, but he could still have been rescued. The air ambulance would have been there in minutes.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You just focus on yourself and your own self-pity.’
‘Maybe I don’t know what happened on the river bank, but I know you went back to his car alone, drove off, contacted Reidun Vestli and asked for help. You met her after getting rid of Jonny’s car, you hid in her chalet. I know you got in touch with Narvesen, made him go to Fagernes and meet Merethe Sandmo. I know he paid her five million in cash to get the painting back. The thing I’m curious about is what triggered the whole process. Was it me?’
She smiled with disdain at the last word. The wind played with her long hair and the waves lapped over her feet.
‘You always have to be the centre of attention, don’t you?’ she said. ‘I’m not like that. I did what I did because I never think about myself. It’s all Merethe’s fault. She started everything. She blew the whistle. I had no option but to stand firm behind Jonny…’
‘You never think about yourself? Merethe Sandmo did what you told her to. She took the picture to Narvesen, got the money and then went to Reidun Vestli’s chalet. There, you took the money before killing her and setting fire to the chalet. You appropriated her identity and used her ticket to Athens. To plan this and execute it, you must have been absolutely furious with her. Anyone who is that furious with another person does not focus on anyone except themselves.’
‘I haven’t killed anyone. And you don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘On the contrary, I know very well what I’m talking about. I’ve been round the whole circuit. Starting the night I had to go down and look at the murdered security man, a young man, a student doing a part-time job. Clubbed to death.’
‘Jim Rognstad killed the man. He’s got nothing to do with me.’
‘But you gave Rognstad an alibi for the murder. Isn’t that playing on the same team as him?’
She didn’t answer; she looked across the sea. On the horizon there were two enormous tankers sailing in a line.
‘You didn’t have to give the men an alibi for that night,’ Frank Frølich said.
‘Frank,’ she said gently. ‘Why don’t you believe me?’
‘I’m not saying what I believe; I’m saying what I know. For example, I know you recognized me in Torggata before the stakeout on Badir’s shop. You doubled back, placed yourself in my field of vision, you wanted my attention.’
‘I had no idea what was going to happen. I just wanted you to see me. But it was you who threw yourself on me.’ She snatched a sidelong glance and smiled wanly. ‘Do you remember?’
‘What I remember best is that you sat beside me in bed that night, waiting for me to go back to sleep so that you could sneak out and start the whole nightmare.’
They stood still, without speaking. The wind was pulling at her clothes. The waves crashed onto the shore.