source of income."
"Should we really be wasting our time on him when we could be looking for Ida Joner?"
"Until she's found, we might as well spend our time on minor cases such as this one. Tomme goes to St. Hallvard's sixth-form college. He's studying electronics. So if you're not feeling too tired, I'd like you to go and have a word with him."
***
Skarre parked in a lot marked for visitors. There was a swimming pool on his left. The smell of chlorine stung his nose and brought back memories from his own school days. The college was made up of several brown wooden pavilions, but Tomme Rix was in the main building. The door to his classroom was opened by a tall, lanky guy in jeans. Skarre's uniform startled him.
"Tom Erik Rix?" Skarre said.
The guy called out into the classroom. You could tell from his expression that he knew what had happened, that he knew Tomme was related to Ida Joner. Shortly afterward Tomme appeared. His face turned pale.
"I need to have a word with you," Skarre said. "Let's go sit in my car. It'll only take a minute."
A flustered Tomme followed him. He plunged his fists deep into his pockets and got into the car almost reluctantly. His frightened eyes flickered across the equipment on the dashboard. Skarre rolled down a window and lit up a cigarette.
"You're related to Ida," he said. "And you live in the same neighborhood. Besides, you spend a lot of time on the roads."
A number of thoughts went through Tomme's mind. He was her cousin. Now he thought the term
cousin
sounded suspect, that their kinship would be used against him.
"You were on the road on the first of September, too," Skarre said. "You drove from Madseberget toward Glassverket around six that evening."
Pause. Tomme felt he had to answer yes. He thought it sounded like a confession.
"To visit a friend?" Skarre said.
"Yes," Tomme said.
"What's his name?"
Tomme had no idea why Skarre wanted to know this. Still, it was best to answer. It was not as if it was a big secret. Nevertheless, he was baffled by all the things they wanted to know.
"His name's Bjørn," he said eventually. "Bjørn Myhre."
"I see," Skarre said. He pulled a notepad from the pocket of his jacket and wrote down the name.
"Would you say you're alert?" he asked.
"No idea," Tomme mumbled. He stared at a point on the dashboard approximately where the airbag was stored. He wished it would inflate at that very moment. A big ball right in his face, hiding him completely.
"So if I ask you what you saw on your journey, what do you recall?"
Tomme searched his memory, but remained silent.
"Everyone who was in that area on the first of September has been asked to come forward. We need all the information we can get, especially if you saw any cars. But we never heard anything from you."
"I didn't see anything," Tomme said simply. "I've got nothing to report."
"So you saw no cars?" Skarre asked.
"The roads were very quiet," Tomme said. "I suppose I must have passed some cars, but don't ask me what make they were. I was busy listening to my music."
"What were you listening to?" Skarre asked with interest.
"What was I listening to? Do you really need to know that?"
"Yes, please," Skarre said.
"Well, some of everything," he said. "Lou Reed. Eminem."
"I see." Skarre nodded. He even made a note of this.
Another pause. It was a lengthy one. The silence made Tomme nervous. "Did you have to drag me out of the classroom?"
"I didn't drag you," Skarre said. "You came with me of your own free will." He changed the subject. "You were involved in an accident that day. Did it happen in Glassverket?"
Tomme studied his filthy sneakers on the floor of the car. "No, in town. It was a shit thing to happen," he said sullenly. "I was on a roundabout. Some idiot forced me off the road, so I ran into the crash barrier and bashed the right fender. The worst thing was that he just drove off," he said.
"Which roundabout?" Skarre asked. "Which one?" Tomme exhaled. "By the bridge. In
"Should we really be wasting our time on him when we could be looking for Ida Joner?"
"Until she's found, we might as well spend our time on minor cases such as this one. Tomme goes to St. Hallvard's sixth-form college. He's studying electronics. So if you're not feeling too tired, I'd like you to go and have a word with him."
***
Skarre parked in a lot marked for visitors. There was a swimming pool on his left. The smell of chlorine stung his nose and brought back memories from his own school days. The college was made up of several brown wooden pavilions, but Tomme Rix was in the main building. The door to his classroom was opened by a tall, lanky guy in jeans. Skarre's uniform startled him.
"Tom Erik Rix?" Skarre said.
The guy called out into the classroom. You could tell from his expression that he knew what had happened, that he knew Tomme was related to Ida Joner. Shortly afterward Tomme appeared. His face turned pale.
"I need to have a word with you," Skarre said. "Let's go sit in my car. It'll only take a minute."
A flustered Tomme followed him. He plunged his fists deep into his pockets and got into the car almost reluctantly. His frightened eyes flickered across the equipment on the dashboard. Skarre rolled down a window and lit up a cigarette.
"You're related to Ida," he said. "And you live in the same neighborhood. Besides, you spend a lot of time on the roads."
A number of thoughts went through Tomme's mind. He was her cousin. Now he thought the term
cousin
sounded suspect, that their kinship would be used against him.
"You were on the road on the first of September, too," Skarre said. "You drove from Madseberget toward Glassverket around six that evening."
Pause. Tomme felt he had to answer yes. He thought it sounded like a confession.
"To visit a friend?" Skarre said.
"Yes," Tomme said.
"What's his name?"
Tomme had no idea why Skarre wanted to know this. Still, it was best to answer. It was not as if it was a big secret. Nevertheless, he was baffled by all the things they wanted to know.
"His name's Bjørn," he said eventually. "Bjørn Myhre."
"I see," Skarre said. He pulled a notepad from the pocket of his jacket and wrote down the name.
"Would you say you're alert?" he asked.
"No idea," Tomme mumbled. He stared at a point on the dashboard approximately where the airbag was stored. He wished it would inflate at that very moment. A big ball right in his face, hiding him completely.
"So if I ask you what you saw on your journey, what do you recall?"
Tomme searched his memory, but remained silent.
"Everyone who was in that area on the first of September has been asked to come forward. We need all the information we can get, especially if you saw any cars. But we never heard anything from you."
"I didn't see anything," Tomme said simply. "I've got nothing to report."
"So you saw no cars?" Skarre asked.
"The roads were very quiet," Tomme said. "I suppose I must have passed some cars, but don't ask me what make they were. I was busy listening to my music."
"What were you listening to?" Skarre asked with interest.
"What was I listening to? Do you really need to know that?"
"Yes, please," Skarre said.
"Well, some of everything," he said. "Lou Reed. Eminem."
"I see." Skarre nodded. He even made a note of this.
Another pause. It was a lengthy one. The silence made Tomme nervous. "Did you have to drag me out of the classroom?"
"I didn't drag you," Skarre said. "You came with me of your own free will." He changed the subject. "You were involved in an accident that day. Did it happen in Glassverket?"
Tomme studied his filthy sneakers on the floor of the car. "No, in town. It was a shit thing to happen," he said sullenly. "I was on a roundabout. Some idiot forced me off the road, so I ran into the crash barrier and bashed the right fender. The worst thing was that he just drove off," he said.
"Which roundabout?" Skarre asked. "Which one?" Tomme exhaled. "By the bridge. In
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