the beans then, Varg … What were you actually doing yesterday afternoon in Minde?’
‘No, that isn’t how it was. I’m investigating a possible disappearance, a young woman from the red-light area in C. Sundts gate. Her mother still lives in the flat above Torvaldsen, with whom you yourself spoke. It was a pure fluke that I happened to be outside their house – with Torvaldsen – when
fru
Mobekk returned home and found her husband … in that state.’
‘Right. So what is it you have to tell me?’
‘This woman I’m looking for … Her name’s Margrethe Monsen and she grew up there. Her family had problems. The father was an addict, the mother pretty helpless. To cut a long story short, social services were contacted, but a local action committee took the initiative and looked after the Monsen family, supported by the church council.’
‘Uhuh?’
‘I’m being sent a list of the committee members, but I already know that Mobekk and Torvaldsen were on it.’
‘How?’
‘An ex-colleague from social services dealt with the case. She remembered Monsen, and the description of the downstairs neighbours matches the Torvaldsen couple.’
‘Torvaldsen’s a widower, as far as I’ve been informed.’
‘Yes, but only since last autumn.’
He smiled good-naturedly, but without relinquising eye contact.
‘I must say you’re well-versed for a casual passer-by.’
‘Torvaldsen himself told me that. She died of cancer. Furthermore, she was a teacher at Fridalen School.’
‘OK, OK, Varg. You’ve passed the oral.’
‘And one more thing. Margrethe has a brother in prison. Known as KG to his circle. Karl Gunnar Monsen. Name ring any bells?’
‘It does sound familiar, I have to confess.’
‘The Gimle case. Do you remember it?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Ye-es. I had something to do with that one, but … A student killed his teacher, or some such thing. And this was KG?’
‘Yes, and he’s on the loose. He didn’t return from leave on Sunday night. Neither he nor his sister has been seen since Friday. Do you know when Mobekk died?’
‘Hey, hey, hey! Not so fast, Varg. All I can say is no, we haven’t established a time of death yet, but the pathologist’s preliminary judgement is that it happened over the weekend, perhaps as late as some time during Sunday night.’
‘He didn’t answer the phone when his wife called on Monday, wasn’t that right?’
‘Mm, and she hadn’t spoken to him since she went east, more than a week ago.’
‘Must have been a knot in the telephone cable.’
Helleve winced. ‘Indeed. But this is nothing for you to concern yourself with, Varg. Strictly speaking, you shouldn’t have overheard any of what was said. In fact, you were only …’ He threw out his hands.
I grinned. ‘A casual passer-by. Tell me though … Was he in work?’
He shook his head patiently. ‘He had been in the building trade, but sold his business six months ago. Wanted to cut down, according to his wife. Took on consultancy jobs, as they’re known.’
‘And there were no jobs last week?’
‘Not at the weekend at any rate.’
‘So from the moment Torvaldsen said goodbye on Friday night no one saw him?’
‘Not that we are aware of.’ He leaned forward. ‘But I think we’ll draw a line there, Varg. What I’m interested in is what you can tell us, not what we can tell you.’
‘OK, I think I’ve said pretty well everything I had to say. If I were you I would check where this Karl Gunnar Monsen might be holed up following his disappearance.’
‘Why’s that? Can you back up your suggestion?’
‘There’s a definite connection. I …’
He raised one hand. ‘Just a moment, Veum.’ He went to the door and called down the corridor. ‘Bjarne! Can you come here for a second?’
Seconds later Bjarne Solheim was at the door. He sent me a cheery nod. ‘Yeah?’
‘The fingerprints we found at the scene of the crime yesterday. Have any of them been
‘No, that isn’t how it was. I’m investigating a possible disappearance, a young woman from the red-light area in C. Sundts gate. Her mother still lives in the flat above Torvaldsen, with whom you yourself spoke. It was a pure fluke that I happened to be outside their house – with Torvaldsen – when
fru
Mobekk returned home and found her husband … in that state.’
‘Right. So what is it you have to tell me?’
‘This woman I’m looking for … Her name’s Margrethe Monsen and she grew up there. Her family had problems. The father was an addict, the mother pretty helpless. To cut a long story short, social services were contacted, but a local action committee took the initiative and looked after the Monsen family, supported by the church council.’
‘Uhuh?’
‘I’m being sent a list of the committee members, but I already know that Mobekk and Torvaldsen were on it.’
‘How?’
‘An ex-colleague from social services dealt with the case. She remembered Monsen, and the description of the downstairs neighbours matches the Torvaldsen couple.’
‘Torvaldsen’s a widower, as far as I’ve been informed.’
‘Yes, but only since last autumn.’
He smiled good-naturedly, but without relinquising eye contact.
‘I must say you’re well-versed for a casual passer-by.’
‘Torvaldsen himself told me that. She died of cancer. Furthermore, she was a teacher at Fridalen School.’
‘OK, OK, Varg. You’ve passed the oral.’
‘And one more thing. Margrethe has a brother in prison. Known as KG to his circle. Karl Gunnar Monsen. Name ring any bells?’
‘It does sound familiar, I have to confess.’
‘The Gimle case. Do you remember it?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Ye-es. I had something to do with that one, but … A student killed his teacher, or some such thing. And this was KG?’
‘Yes, and he’s on the loose. He didn’t return from leave on Sunday night. Neither he nor his sister has been seen since Friday. Do you know when Mobekk died?’
‘Hey, hey, hey! Not so fast, Varg. All I can say is no, we haven’t established a time of death yet, but the pathologist’s preliminary judgement is that it happened over the weekend, perhaps as late as some time during Sunday night.’
‘He didn’t answer the phone when his wife called on Monday, wasn’t that right?’
‘Mm, and she hadn’t spoken to him since she went east, more than a week ago.’
‘Must have been a knot in the telephone cable.’
Helleve winced. ‘Indeed. But this is nothing for you to concern yourself with, Varg. Strictly speaking, you shouldn’t have overheard any of what was said. In fact, you were only …’ He threw out his hands.
I grinned. ‘A casual passer-by. Tell me though … Was he in work?’
He shook his head patiently. ‘He had been in the building trade, but sold his business six months ago. Wanted to cut down, according to his wife. Took on consultancy jobs, as they’re known.’
‘And there were no jobs last week?’
‘Not at the weekend at any rate.’
‘So from the moment Torvaldsen said goodbye on Friday night no one saw him?’
‘Not that we are aware of.’ He leaned forward. ‘But I think we’ll draw a line there, Varg. What I’m interested in is what you can tell us, not what we can tell you.’
‘OK, I think I’ve said pretty well everything I had to say. If I were you I would check where this Karl Gunnar Monsen might be holed up following his disappearance.’
‘Why’s that? Can you back up your suggestion?’
‘There’s a definite connection. I …’
He raised one hand. ‘Just a moment, Veum.’ He went to the door and called down the corridor. ‘Bjarne! Can you come here for a second?’
Seconds later Bjarne Solheim was at the door. He sent me a cheery nod. ‘Yeah?’
‘The fingerprints we found at the scene of the crime yesterday. Have any of them been
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