'RaymondSkau.' Gunnarstranda pulled a face as if the name had a sour taste. 'Sounds likea character from the Olsen gang films.'
'That'shis name anyway,' Frølich said. 'The lady's a hundred per cent positive.This guy visited Katrine in the travel bureau the Saturday she was killed.'
Gunnarstrandastudied the photograph again. 'Never seen him,' he mumbled and as he put itback he felt his fingers begin to tremble. v'
'Small-timecrook,' Frølich said. 'Done time for receiving stolen property, androbbery. Known to hang around strip joints and that sort of area. May be apimp, in other words. Been arrested a few times for selling hash to teenagers.But the most interesting bit is a case from a few years back – March 1995.'
'Isee,' said the inspector, bending over the photograph. He interlaced his handsto keep them still. The man in the picture looked like hundreds of others inthe same category. Prison mug shots. A man with a haggard face, a vacantexpression beneath half-closed, almost sleepy eyelids, and dark or grey hair. Aglimpse of a very uneven row of teeth was visible in the murky hole thatconstituted the open mouth. 'Has he broken a tooth?'
'Couldhave done,' Frølich said. 'But at that time – I mean in '95 – he wasreported to the police by one Katrine Bratterud.'
Gunnarstrandawhistled. Frølich’s smile widened into a broad beam. 'The report camefrom the Centre for Battered Women. Bugger me if our friend there hadn't beenliving with our girl. And charges were brought against him for beating her upand trying to run her over with his car!'
'Runher over?'
'Yes,'Frølich said. 'Jealousy drama de luxe. And the case was not shelved, ohno. Froken Bratterud presented herself in person at the police station andwithdrew the charges.'
'Andhe was waiting outside?'
'Wedon't know, but it's possible.'
'Howwas she? After the car incident?'
'Sheescaped with a fright. I can't remember the pathologist mentioning any lastinginjuries anyway.'
'Jealous,'Gunnarstranda mumbled as he sat flicking the photograph. 'We like that word.'He stood up and strolled over to the window.
'Therewas no one at home,' Frølich said.
'Wherewas that?'
'Gronland,council flat, one of the old blocks in Gronlandsleiret.' Frølich noddedand studied the photograph as well. 'Raymond Skau,' he said. 'What a name.'
'Hedoesn't have to be ashamed of his name,' Gunnarstranda said. 'He can't doanything about it anyway.' He sat staring into the distance. Frølichstood by the door.
'Mm,'Gunnarstranda said, rapt in thought.
'Theboyfriend,' Frølich said, pointing to the door. 'We agreed we would seeOle Eidesen together.'
Chapter Fifteen
Awoman jogged up the stairs in front of them. Frank Frølich kept a closeeye on her. Her face and hair were masked by a veil. However, what nourished Frølich’simagination were the nicely shaped hips and breasts whose contours he couldmake out beneath her ample and airy clothes as she rounded the bend in thestairs.
'There,'Gunnarstranda said, pointing to a door with ole eidesen printed in white on ared plastic strip beneath a bell.
TheMuslim woman lived on the same floor. She stood fumbling for her keys, letherself in and took off the veil before closing the door. Frølichcouldn't believe his eyes. 'Did you see that?' he asked.
'What?'Gunnarstranda rang Eidesen's bell.
'Thewoman. Her hair was blonde.'
'Sowhat?'
'Butshe was wearing a veil!'
'You'reallowed to be a Muslim even if you are Norwegian.'
'But…'Frølich swallowed and cleared his throat. At that moment the door toEidesen's flat was opened. Ole Eidesen appeared to be around thirty years old.He was slim and of medium height. There was a conspicuous ring in his lefteyebrow. He had tried to disguise a growing bald spot on his crown by shavingoff all his hair. A dark shadow across his skull revealed the growth pattern ofhis hair. But the most noticeable thing about him was a series of scratches andred marks down his face.
'Eidesen?'Gunnarstranda asked.
'Yes,'the man said, looking serious. His eyes wandered from one policeman to theother.
Gunnarstrandakept both hands in his jacket pocket as he introduced himself.
'Comein.'
'Thisis Frank Frølich.'
Eidesenhad long, slim fingers. His handshake was light but firm.
Thesitting room they entered was light and smelt of perfume. There were severalwindows, the hessian wallpaper was painted white and the room was spartanlyfurnished. A stereo system stood on the floor against the wall. A white leathersofa and two manila chairs encircled a glass table. One chair creaked as Frølichtook a seat.
Eidesensat down on the white sofa; under his shorts his legs were tanned and muscular.He looked nervously at Gunnarstranda who stood thinking and biting his lowerlip.
Frølichsorted out his notepad on his lap before focusing on the man on the sofa. 'Thisis about Katrine Bratterud,' Frølich said.
Eidesennodded.
'You'vehad an accident?' the policeman asked.
Eidesenshook his head. 'I fell flat on my face.'
'Fellon your face?'
Eidesenfidgeted. 'I can't keep still. I think about her all the time. It's worst atnight, so I run.' He stretched his face into a tired, apologetic smile. 'I ranlast night and…' The smile broadened into a nervous, sardonic smile. 'I trippedover some scrub and fell flat on my face with a bang.'
Frølichnodded slowly. 'Has the priest contacted you?'
Eidesenbecame serious and shook his head. 'I heard yesterday.'
'Whatdid you hear?'
'Thatit was Katrine they were writing about in the newspapers.' 'Who did you hear itfrom?'
'Someonecalled Sigrid who works at the rehab centre.'
Frølichconsulted his notes. 'Sigrid Haugom?'
Eidesennodded. 'I rang them.'
'Whatdid Sigrid Haugom say?'
'Irang and she said Katrine had been killed. That it was Katrine they had founddead by Hvervenbukta.'
'Didshe say how Katrine was killed?'
Eidesencoughed and, unsure of himself, shook his head.
Theart is to be patient, thought Frølich. Always be patient, he thought,oblivious of why the boss was letting him run this show, but there would besome plan behind it. That he did know. 'How long did you know her?'
'Hm?'
Frølichrepeated the question.
'Afew months. I knew who she was long before that. We met on a course. Spanish.'
'Youcan speak Spanish?'
'Yes.'He added, 'My mother is Spanish. I teach Spanish in the evening. Adulteducation at the folk university.'
'AndKatrine was a student there?'
'Yes.'
Frølichwaited. Eidesen cleared his throat. 'I asked her out,' he began and cleared histhroat again. 'On the third evening we ate at the Spanish restaurant inPilestredet. I just don't remember…'
'Doyou remember what clothes she was wearing at the party on Saturday?' Frølichasked. 'Try to give me an exact description.'
'Ablack top with buttons and sort of… sort of… transparent sleeves,' Eidesensaid, thinking carefully. 'Over a sort of grey skirt, dark grey, light andsummery, not one of the shortest, it reached down well over her knees and theshoes I'm not sure… They were black, I think, or grey, bit of a heel on them.'
'Lingerie?'Frølich asked.
Eidesenrolled his shoulders. 'I have no idea. She got dressed in the bathroom aftertaking a shower. We were at her place – then we took a taxi to the party.'
'Butwhat lingerie did she wear as a general rule?'
Eidesenshrugged again. 'The usual stuff – both bits, if I can put it like that.'
'Colours?'
'As Isaid, I don't know. I would guess it was something dark because she was wearinga black top. She was precise about things like that… I mean nothing vulgar.'
'Anythingelse?'
Thequestion came from Gunnarstranda. The man's sensitive lips were trembling. Healways had this expectant expression in his eyes. An expression that did notinvite a head-on confrontation, but still presaged something undetonated.