her head gently, she turned to face Terje.
“No, actually she didn’t. But I know it all the same. And I know she had collected evidence. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find, ifyou simply began to scrutinize the accounts. The papers were lying in the drawer. The one that was locked. And the papers weren’t there when the police arrived. If they had them, then you would have been hauled in long ago. And that hasn’t happened. You haven’t even been questioned.”
The final sentence had the inflection of a question, and he shook his head in confirmation.
“Why haven’t I been? Is it some form of psychological torture, or what?”
The white on his face had started to meet the fiery red halfway. Now he was pink and dripping wet. The beard on his cheeks was curling from the dampness, and three drops of sweat were running down in front of his left ear.
“But I’d put most of it back, Maren! I told you that, didn’t I? My God, it’s not as if we’re talking about large sums of money!”
“To be honest, Terje, I don’t think the police would be particularly bothered about the amounts.”
Flinging out her arms in despair, she threw him a condescending look.
“But almost all of it was paid back! I’m quite sure that Agnes didn’t know anything. She didn’t have the foggiest suspicion! But she knew something else, Maren. She knew something else, something that . . .”
He did not continue.
Maren Kalsvik leaned back demonstratively in her chair. They could hear some children clattering through the dayroom, laughing boisterously, and there was a faint thumping sound from Raymond’s stereo equipment on the floor above. Outside, the snow was falling more and more heavily, and it seemed as though there would be enough to form a blanket on the ground after all. The temperature had fluctuated wildly over the past two days, up and down, up and down.
Like a child caught in the act, she thought. Downright denialsabout something that was so blatantly obvious. Catching his eye, she held his gaze.
“Terje. I know that Agnes knew. You know that too. I know she had papers to prove it. You know that as well. I’m your friend, for God’s sake!”
This last was spoken emphatically, and she underlined it further by striking the table.
“Those papers were there before Agnes died, and they were gone when the police turned up. There’s only one possible explanation: you were there and removed them at some point during the evening or night. Don’t you think you might as well admit it?”
He sat there, paralyzed, in the chair.
She stood up and turned away from him before suddenly whirling around again.
“I can help you, Terje! For God’s sake, I want to help you! I don’t want you to be arrested for something you haven’t done! We’ve traipsed in and out of here every day, eaten meals together, chatted together, we’ve almost lived together, Terje! But if I have to take responsibility for this here . . .”
She gesticulated expressively with her arms, turning her eyes heavenward and muttering something he couldn’t catch.
“Honestly. I’m holding something back from the police. I can’t be answerable for that unless I know what happened. And what didn’t happen. Don’t you understand that? You mustn’t go on lying! Not to me.”
As though he were gathering his strength, he breathed in and out three times, deeply and rapidly.
“I was here,” he whispered. “I was here around twelve o’clock. I was going to take the papers from the drawer. But only to see what she actually knew, Maren! When I saw her dead in the chair, I was totally shocked.”
He cradled his head in his hands and rocked his body to and fro.
“You just have to believe me, Maren!”
“You can’t have had enough of a shock to prevent you from finding the papers and taking them with you, then,” Maren said calmly.
She had sat down again, and now her right hand was continually running through her hair.
“No, what should
“No, actually she didn’t. But I know it all the same. And I know she had collected evidence. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find, ifyou simply began to scrutinize the accounts. The papers were lying in the drawer. The one that was locked. And the papers weren’t there when the police arrived. If they had them, then you would have been hauled in long ago. And that hasn’t happened. You haven’t even been questioned.”
The final sentence had the inflection of a question, and he shook his head in confirmation.
“Why haven’t I been? Is it some form of psychological torture, or what?”
The white on his face had started to meet the fiery red halfway. Now he was pink and dripping wet. The beard on his cheeks was curling from the dampness, and three drops of sweat were running down in front of his left ear.
“But I’d put most of it back, Maren! I told you that, didn’t I? My God, it’s not as if we’re talking about large sums of money!”
“To be honest, Terje, I don’t think the police would be particularly bothered about the amounts.”
Flinging out her arms in despair, she threw him a condescending look.
“But almost all of it was paid back! I’m quite sure that Agnes didn’t know anything. She didn’t have the foggiest suspicion! But she knew something else, Maren. She knew something else, something that . . .”
He did not continue.
Maren Kalsvik leaned back demonstratively in her chair. They could hear some children clattering through the dayroom, laughing boisterously, and there was a faint thumping sound from Raymond’s stereo equipment on the floor above. Outside, the snow was falling more and more heavily, and it seemed as though there would be enough to form a blanket on the ground after all. The temperature had fluctuated wildly over the past two days, up and down, up and down.
Like a child caught in the act, she thought. Downright denialsabout something that was so blatantly obvious. Catching his eye, she held his gaze.
“Terje. I know that Agnes knew. You know that too. I know she had papers to prove it. You know that as well. I’m your friend, for God’s sake!”
This last was spoken emphatically, and she underlined it further by striking the table.
“Those papers were there before Agnes died, and they were gone when the police turned up. There’s only one possible explanation: you were there and removed them at some point during the evening or night. Don’t you think you might as well admit it?”
He sat there, paralyzed, in the chair.
She stood up and turned away from him before suddenly whirling around again.
“I can help you, Terje! For God’s sake, I want to help you! I don’t want you to be arrested for something you haven’t done! We’ve traipsed in and out of here every day, eaten meals together, chatted together, we’ve almost lived together, Terje! But if I have to take responsibility for this here . . .”
She gesticulated expressively with her arms, turning her eyes heavenward and muttering something he couldn’t catch.
“Honestly. I’m holding something back from the police. I can’t be answerable for that unless I know what happened. And what didn’t happen. Don’t you understand that? You mustn’t go on lying! Not to me.”
As though he were gathering his strength, he breathed in and out three times, deeply and rapidly.
“I was here,” he whispered. “I was here around twelve o’clock. I was going to take the papers from the drawer. But only to see what she actually knew, Maren! When I saw her dead in the chair, I was totally shocked.”
He cradled his head in his hands and rocked his body to and fro.
“You just have to believe me, Maren!”
“You can’t have had enough of a shock to prevent you from finding the papers and taking them with you, then,” Maren said calmly.
She had sat down again, and now her right hand was continually running through her hair.
“No, what should
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