Gunnarstrandahad his breath back. 'Kittens?' he mumbled without much interest and stopped infront of the entrance to the office building. He had two more drags beforepinching the glow of the roll-up and putting it into his coat pocket. The floorinside was laid with large flagstones and the ceiling fans whirred. A young manwith a goatee and long hair held in a ponytail was sitting behind a table,talking on the telephone. A dog, a boxer, lay on the floor beside the desk. Ithad placed its head on the floor as though it were holding the stones in placewhile scowling up at the two men approaching.
Theyoung man on the telephone apologized and put down the receiver.
'Annabeths,' Gunnarstranda said with an irritated glance at Frølich, who wasstill drying his beard with a handkerchief.
Atall woman wearing a wide tartan skirt appeared from behind a partition. Sheproffered her hand to Frølich. 'Gunnarstranda?'
'FrankFrølich,' he said, lightly squeezing her hand.
Theboxer stood up too, stretched and gave a cavernous yawn before padding over tothe three of them, looking up with anticipation.
'Thenyou must be Gunnarstranda,' said Annabeth s, proffering her hand. Thepoliceman shook hands. 'Process of elimination,' she said with a nervous smile.She had rather short, spiky, brown hair and a lined face, but her smile wasfriendly, though rehearsed, and her teeth were long and discoloured bynicotine. The yellow fingertips also revealed a heavy smoker.
Thetwo policemen were silent.
'Well,'she said with a questioning look at Gunnarstranda. 'Should we go into theoffice perhaps?'
'Wewould like you to come with us,' Frølich said, clearing his throat. 'Wewould like you to help us.'
'Whatwith?' asked Annabeth, alarmed.
'Weneed you to identify who it is we're dealing with,' Frølich said, andadded: 'The deceased…'
'Hm…'Annabeth hesitated. 'You mean to look… at… her?'
Frølichnodded.
'Ihad been hoping I wouldn't have to.' Annabeth s sent a quick glance at the manwith the goatee. The latter returned a stiff glare, then lowered his eyes andconcentrated on the papers on the desk in front of him.
'ButI suppose it is best if I do it,' Annabeth concluded, stroking her chinthoughtfully. 'Give me a couple of minutes,' she said, disappearing behind thepartition again.
Thetwo men left. The sun was strong and Gunnarstranda produced a pair ofsupplementary sunshades from a case he kept in his inside pocket. They clippedon to his glasses. 'Trouble in paradise,' he muttered. Through the glass doorsthey could see Annabeth s and the man with the goatee in lively discussion. Thelatter was gesticulating. Both stopped the moment they discovered they werebeing observed. The policemen exchanged looks and ambled back the way they hadcome.
'Whatdid you do in the end?' Gunnarstranda asked standing by the parked car.
'Eh?'
'Whatdid you do with the kittens?'
'Oh,them…' Frølich said, lost in thought. He was searching through hisjacket pockets for a pair of designer reflector sunglasses. He put them on,checked the reflection in the side window of the car and pulled a face. 'Thekittens? They're dead. Eva-Britt got fed up with them, so I shot them.'
Gunnarstrandahad time to light the old roll-up and take five long drags before Annabeth camewalking between the trees. There was something rustic about the way she walked,the long dress and the flat shoes, plus the way she stepped out, with suchenergy. Even her short hair bounced in rhythm. On her back she was carrying asmall, green rucksack. She shouted to the youths by the tractor and waved herarms. She was wearing a shawl over her shoulders, tartan too; she gave the impressionof being the arts and crafts type. Gunnarstranda held the rear door of the caropen for her.
'MyGod,' she said. 'The back seat. Like a criminal.' But she got in, a little morereserved, and waved to the tomato-thrower who was back by the greenhouse doornow.
'Shejust hit me in the face with a tomato,' Frølich conversed cheerfully ashe turned out of the car park.
'Ibeg your pardon?' Annabeth said with deliberate hauteur. 'My dear man, I hopeyou weren't hurt.'
Frølichobserved her in the rear-view mirror and looked across at Gunnarstranda, whohad half-turned in his seat to say: 'There was something else I was wonderingabout. This young man in the office, is he a patient or an employee?'
'He'sdoing social work for his military service, so in a way he's an employee.'
'What'shis name?'
'HenningKramer.'
'Andthe missing girl. Why do you think her parents have not reported her missing?'
'Ourpatients very often do not have much contact with their parents. Or they comefrom other parts of the country.'
'And?'
Annabethwound her arms round her rucksack. 'Isn't that answer good enough?'
'Imean in this case. What happened in this case?'
'Gunnarstranda,'said Annabeth, leaning forward. 'We in social welfare are very well versed inmatters concerning professional oaths of client confidentiality.'
Frølichsearched the rear-view mirror for her face. His sunglasses straddled his noselike a hair slide. You could see he disapproved of the woman's answer by theway he examined the mirror. 'This is a murder investigation,' he emphasized.
Annabeths cleared her throat. 'And I am entitled to exercise my discretion,' she saidcoldly. She cleared her throat again. 'What's going to happen now?'
'Wewould like you to come with us to the Institute of Forensic Medicine,'Gunnarstranda said. 'There we would like you to answer yes or no to onequestion.'
'Andwhat is the question?'
'Isthe body you see in front of you that of the girl you reported missing, KatrineBratterud?'
'Yes,'said Annabeth s. She looked away as Gunnarstranda pulled the cloth up over theface of the dead girl. 'That's her. The air in here's making me feel sick. Canwe go out?'
Outsideon the grass they found a bench, one of the solid kind, a combination of a seatand a table that you find in lay-bys in Norway. Annabeth slumped down withoutremoving her rucksack. She breathed in and stared into space, her eyesglistening. 'That was that,' she said. 'Almost three years fighting for herlife, all for nothing.'
Theysat in silence listening to the cars rushing past some distance away from them.An acquaintance strolled by and waved to the two policemen.
'Doyou know what it costs to rehabilitate a drug addict?'
Thewoman's question was a reaction; the two men both understood that she was notinterested in an answer.
'MyGod,' Annabeth repeated. 'What a waste, what a dreadful waste!'
Thefollowing silence lasted until Gunnarstranda prompted her: 'What is a waste, fruÅs?'
Annabethstraightened up. She was on the point of speaking, then paused and insteaddried her eyes with the back of her hand.
'Tellus about the three years,' Frølich interjected. 'When did you first meetKatrine?'
Annabethsat thinking for a while.
'Whydo you think…?' she began at length. 'Was it assault? Rape?'
'Whendid you first meet Katrine?' Frølich repeated patiently.
Annabethsighed. 'It was a few years back. It was in… 1996. She came to us of her ownunfree will, as we are wont to say, referred to us by Social Services. Shewavered for a bit, by which I mean she absconded several times. They often do.But then up we went into the mountains to see how invigorating life can bewithout any artificial stimulants. She became more motivated, agreed totreatment and followed a three-year course. We divided it up into stages – shewas in phase four – and would have been discharged in the summer. She tookadvanced school-leaving examinations while she was with us and finished lastyear. Brilliant exam results. God, she was so intelligent, so smart,lightning-quick at picking things up. She got three damned As. She rang me up.Annabeth, Annabeth, she screamed down the phone. I got As. She wasecstatic, so happy…'