Thetelephone! He put it to his ear. It was dead. He hunted through the wardrobe,found a drip-dry shirt and inspected it – bit of a wrinkle on the breast pocketbut it would have to do. He rang her and pulled faces at himself in the mirroras the phone rang. He let it ring forever. 'We must have been cut off,' Franksaid before she could get a word in.
'Attimes you don't seem at all interested,' she bawled.
'Don'tstart all that again,' he parried. 'I promise to be here all Saturday evening.I promise not to be late. I promise to switch off the phone. I promise not towatch TV. I won't put on any 70s music. I will be fascinated by all the problemsyou're having at work. I won't hire a film. I promise to drink red wine withthe meal. I will think up at least five compliments and I promise to lightcandles on the table. All right?'
'Mygoodness, you're such a romantic, aren't you,' her voice groaned.
'Ican be if I want to,' Frank grinned, pulling faces at himself in the mirror. Hewas dry, and ought to be presentable enough for the force now.
Chapter Seventeen
GeorgBeck worked at the Nydalen Skills Centre, a kind of institution where most ofthe patients seemed to be psychologically handicapped. Frølich entered,but couldn't catch anyone's eye in reception. The young man sitting there waschewing gum and disappeared without bothering about the approaching policeman. Frølichventured further into the low-ceilinged building and stopped a man in hisforties coming out of a door. Frank assumed he worked there since he wascarrying a file under his arm. A man with a short brown beard, a crooked mouthand a crooked fringe. An eloquent smile played on his lips at the mention ofGeorg Beck's name. Then he showed him the way through the corridors to a reddoor inscribed with activity room n in white letters.
Frølichknocked and went in. There were two people inside. A thin elderly woman wassitting in a wheelchair by a table. Georg Beck was leaning over her. The two ofthem were trying to glue together two pieces of cardboard. Beck was plump,medium height, with brown hair and a fine middle parting and kiss curls overhis forehead. 'That's it, Stella,' he said in an amicable tone and with a winkto Frølich. Beck camouflaged the flab well with loose clothing: a blueV-neck jumper, baggy white cotton pants and sandals. He guided the elderlywoman's hands towards one of the bits of the egg box on the table. 'Hold this,Stella,' he said with infinite patience. 'You've had your fingers in lots ofthings over the years, Stella. Grip this, that's it, yes. And now the tube of glue.'
Theageing woman in the wheelchair sat with her mouth half-open and concentrated.The egg box in one hand and the glue in the other. A drop of saliva gathered onher lower lip, stretched into a long, viscous thread of slime and slowlyreached her lap before she had taken the decision to cast off.
'No,no, dear Stella!' the man said in an affected voice, wiping her mouth withpaper and gently closing her mouth. 'We don't sit like that, do we?' Georg Beckwinked at Frølich again. 'Not when we have strange men here!'
Theold woman shrieked with laughter and a smile revealed bluish-grey false teeth.Her arms were so thin that the skin hung off her forearms. Her lined fingerswere splayed out and she was staring at a point in the far distance.
'Now,now,' Beck reproved in a gentle tone. 'That's how to squeeze the tube. You cando it, Stella. Squeeze the tube! Not so hard, Stella! Not so hard. You'vesqueezed tubes before, Stella!'
Hewinked again at Frølich, straightened up and stood for a few secondslooking at the woman in the wheelchair. Her hands with the egg box and the tubeof glue sank into her lap and stayed there, immobile. She sat unconcerned, withher mouth half-open staring ahead of her.
Beckshook his head in despair and turned to Frølich. 'Right, handsome, fireaway!' he said producing a grin that exposed a large gap between his frontteeth.
'It'sabout the party at Annabeth s's house.'
'Oh,my God, what a dramatic end!' Beck put on an affected expression. 'Come withme,' he exclaimed and wiggled his way to some free seats beneath the window.'Don't bother about Stella. She can't hear anyway. I was there and, with mysense of timing, I left before it happened. That's what I call being off-form,not smelling a scandal when the word is written in capital letters and flashingneon lights.'
Beckgave the policeman a cool once-over and held out a chair for him. 'Whatever youdo, Chief Inspector, don't rattle the handcuffs here or we'll all swoon!'
'What'syour connection with Gerhardsen and s?' Frølich enquired.
'Oh,I just cast a bit of glamour over the gathering,' Beck said with a giggle. 'ButAnnabeth is so lovely. She's the one who arranges for me to go there.When she asks it's simply not on to say no. I only work freelance… forVinterhagen; I don't have the energy for any more. But I do enough to beinvited to parties. Then he brings out the best cognac, Bjørn does – thegood-time Charlie.'
'Thegood-time Charlie?' Frølich asked.
'Whoops,'Beck exclaimed, putting a hand to his mouth. 'Have I said too much already?There you see – me and good-looking men, not a good combination.'
Frølichstared.
'Imean Bjørn's feelers were out for the poor girl, or his hands might be amore apt expression,' he said with a meaningful glance. 'My goodness, wherethat man has had his hands. It doesn't bear thinking about.'
'Youmean he…'
'Yes,he was playing footsie under the table. What do you say to that? During themeal. With that poor girl, not that I am a complete innocent, and she wasn'teither, I'm led to believe… ' Beck laughed out loud and winked. '… Not that weneed to go any deeper into that side of the case, eh? Anyway, Bjørn wassitting at the same table as Annabeth, wasn't he. Not that that made anydifference. On the terrace he had one hand up her skirt.'
'KatrineBratterud's?'
'Yes,I suppose that was her name.'
'Yousaw that?'
'Notonly me. Annabeth did, too. She was grinding her teeth so hard we werebeginning to think there were mice behind the walls.' He laughed again. 'Andperhaps that turn of phrase says it all.'
'Howdid the girl react?'
'MyGod, I have no idea. I retreated – at once because Annabeth was clenching bothfists and on her way to the terrace. I hadn't come to the party to ring for anambulance. Anyway I sat down and started chatting to some other people.'
'Buthow…?' Frølich searched for words. 'Were they being intimate? On theterrace? I mean Katrine and Gerhardsen – or did she seem to be rejecting him?'
'Ihave no idea. Maybe, maybe not. They didn't meet much resistance anyway – hishands I'm talking about.'
'Butdid you see how it finished up?'
'Look,handsome…'
Frølichcleared his throat. 'I mean, did you see what happened when fru Ås joinedthem?'
'No,and thank God I didn't. I would guess Annabeth made Bjørn controlhimself.'
'Butif something had happened on the terrace, something scandalous… Ipresume you would have known?'
'Ofcourse.'
'Butyou think the advances Gerhardsen made to the murder victim led to an emotionalresponse ' from Annabeth s?'
'Lordie,the way you speak. The murder victim. I'm all on edge.' He gesticulatedand put on a serious face. 'But yes, she was affected by the situation, thereis no question.'
'Wereyou aware that the girl became ill during the party?'
'Iheard about it and that is what I cannot forgive myself for. The scandal wasalready in full flow. I left straight afterwards.'
'Youleft the party alone?'
'No,there were five of us. It was so boring there. We went to Enka.' Beck winked.'That is, we dropped three of them off at Smuget. Lasse and I went on. Lasse,he's my man of the moment.' He smiled.