'Amoment of weakness?' Gunnarstranda queried.
'Yes…going to a place like that – a massage parlour. But would his weakness at thattime, so long ago, stand in the way of Katrine's chances of succeeding?'Annabeth tilted her head as though she were talking to a close friend. 'Wouldthat have been right?' she asked in a gentle voice.
Gunnarstrandasmiled with one side of his mouth. 'That's one way of looking at it,' heconceded. 'But it's not necessarily a right way of looking at it. You don'tknow how she would have fared with her treatment elsewhere. You don't know ifshe would have succeeded just as well.'
'Butcan't you hear what I'm saying?' Annabeth almost screamed. 'Katrine had everychance to succeed here. We were the ones who cured her. We were the ones wholaid the world at her feet!'
'Itwas while she was here that she was murdered,' Gunnarstranda interrupted withannoyance.
Annabethshut her mouth and threw the hosepipe down on the baked-earth floor. Theyeyeballed each other in the silence that followed.
Therewas no point discussing investigative theory with this woman, the policemanthought. He had a feeling he knew what she was after. It wasn't the desire tosave Katrine Bratterud that had driven this woman to keep her as a patient. Ithad been the chance to succeed that had driven her. That and the councilsubsidy that must have come with the girl. And in her hunt for success Annabethhad swallowed camels, or, to be more precise, she had shut her eyes to her ownprofessional ethics. 'No one knows for the moment what happened that night,' hesaid in a milder tone. 'No one knows why Katrine had to be buried today. So wehad better not make any allegations. Let us just state that you had a patientwho perhaps should not have been treated here. Were there others apart from youwho knew about your husband's previous… experiences with Katrine?'
'No.'
'Howcan you be so sure?'
'Becausesuch rumours cannot be kept secret in a place like this.'
'Didyou ever take up this matter with Katrine?'
'Never.'
'Younever mentioned a thing about it?'
'No.'
'Didshe ever take the matter up with you?'
Annabeth,eyes closed, shook her head. 'No, never.'
Never,mused Gunnarstranda. Katrine must have known she knew. And conversely, thecertainty that her husband had exploited her patient's social needs must havecoloured the atmosphere every single time Annabeth met Katrine. And thepatient, on her side, must have felt it. Anything else would be inconceivable.
Thewater from the hose reached his shoes and ran down both sides of the flagstonepath he was standing on. 'Shall we turn off the water?' he said, trudging backto the tap attached to the hosepipe. He turned it off, straightened his backand observed her. She had not moved from the spot. 'I know you don't liketalking about this,' Gunnarstranda said. 'But I'm obliged to probe for motives.If for a moment we assume that Katrine was an unscrupulous woman one couldimagine that this relationship – I mean the fact that your husband as chairmanhad received sexual favours from Katrine…' He paused for a few seconds when sheclosed both eyes. Then went on:'… we might imagine that this fact gave Katrinea hold over your husband. Would she have blackmailed your husband or tried toexploit this hold she had?'
'Never.'
'Youseem very sure.'
Annabethtook off her gloves and strolled over to him. 'My good man, Katrine wanted tobe cured. That was why I kept her as a patient. Katrine was perhaps the mostmotivated client I have ever met. Just the very idea of blackmailing Bjørn- that would never have occurred to her.'
'Butwhat you're saying now you could be saying to cover up the fact that pressurewas applied.'
'Whywould I cover anything up if she had gone as far as blackmailing Bjørn?'
'Becauseblackmail would give Bjørn a motive for murdering her.'
'Ha,'Annabeth laughed haughtily. 'Now you're chasing shadows. Bjørn! Would Bjørnhave killed Katrine?' She laughed again. 'Excuse me, but the thought is tooridiculous. Believe me, Gunnarstranda. Bjørn Gerhardsen can crunchnumbers and he might sneak into some dingy place to vent his male sexuality.But other than that…? When we go fishing in Sorland in the summer it's me whohas to kill the fish he catches. If there's a mouse in the trap in our mountaincabin, he can't even look at it. I have to clean up. The truth about Bjørnis that he's a good boy but as soft as marshmallow.'
Gunnarstrandadidn't speak. He was thinking about what she had said while they were walkingbeside the potting tables and out into the fresh weather. Good boy, soft asmarshmallow. She was demeaning her husband's masculinity.
Theystrolled by the vegetable plot towards the car park.
'Believeme, Gunnarstranda, your speculations are absurd. Katrine wanted to berehabilitated. She chose us because we could help her.' v
Thepoliceman stopped and looked into her eyes. 'Did you at any point leave theparty you organized on that Saturday?'
Shestill had a faint smile on her face as she shook her head. 'Not for a minute. Bjørnleft with Georg Beck and a few others. He's already told you, I understand. Buthe returned, as soft and affectionate as the little kitten he is when he's beenaway from Mummy for more than two hours.'
Gunnarstrandastudied her for a while before asking, 'Do you remember what time it was whenhe left?'
'Aroundmidnight. He came back alone a bit before four and helped me clear up.'
'Didanyone else leave the party in the course of the evening?'
'No,as a matter of fact they didn't. There was a sort of mass departure at halfpast two, but it was some time before everyone had been packed off happily intaxis. It took an hour, maybe more.'
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thewaiting room was packed with people. Frølich tried to find his bearings.An elderly man in a green buttoned-up parka and trousers that looked likepyjamas gave a hollow, gurgling cough. The policeman looked away. His gaze fellon another old man, grey and pale with thick stubble and greasy, unkempt hair.A boy was sitting on his mother's lap. An elderly woman sat beside themknitting. Beside her was another elderly woman wearing a headscarf. She hadthick brown stockings on her legs and worn slippers on her feet. Frølichwas reminded of Erik Haugom's reputation as a sexologist and for a briefinstant wondered what sexual problems these patients were grappling with.
Awoman dressed in white looked up from what she was doing. 'Please waitoutside,' she said.
'Excuseme,' said the policeman.
'Iasked if you would wait outside.'
'Ihave a question,' Frølich said politely.
'Thenwait until it is your turn.' She marched around the counter, a figure ofauthority in white trousers and a white blouse. She took the policeman's armand tried to escort him out. When he pulled his arm away, she pointed to a redlight outside. 'It's red. Can you see that?' she asked in an annoyed tone.'That's the colour that signifies stop on our traffic lights. The red man. Thatcolour means stop here as well. When it's green you can come in – if it's yourturn, provided you have booked an appointment. If you haven't, you can ringbetween eight and nine o'clock in the morning. Have you understood? Comprendo?'
Frølichforced a smile. 'Darling!' he cried. The woman was taken aback as he gentlypushed her back through the door and closed it. He placed his police badge onthe counter.
'What'sthat?' The young woman seemed resigned rather than irritated now. She clumpedback around the counter in her white clogs. She picked up the telephone andpunched in a number with the receiver under her chin. 'If you do not go of yourown accord, we will have to get someone to throw you out,' she said, staringinto space.
'Myname is Frank Frølich. I have come to speak to Erik Haugom, the doctorhere,' the policeman said.
'Waityour turn,' the woman said into space.