they're quite nice."
"Yes," Skarre said, "but it's easier to lock someone up if we can't stand his ugly face."
***
Johnas stuck his hand under the dog's stomach and pressed gently. She was breathing hard and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, a moist pink tongue. She lay very still and let him touch her. It wouldn't be long now. He stared out the window, hoping it would soon be over.
"Good girl, Hera," he said, petting her.
The dog stared past him, unmoved by his praise, so he sank down to the floor a short distance away, sat there and watched her. The silent, patient animal had his full attention. There was never any trouble with Hera, she was always obedient and kind as an angel. Never left his side when they went out for a walk, ate the food he gave her, and padded quietly over to her corner when he went upstairs to bed at night. He would have liked to sit there like that, very close, until it was all over, just listening to her breathe. Perhaps nothing would happen until early morning. He wasn't tired. Then the doorbell rang, one brief, shrill ring. He got up and opened the door.
Sejer gave him a firm, dry handshake. The man radiated authority. The younger officer was different, a thin, boyish hand with slender fingers. Johnas invited them in.
"How's it going with your dog?" Sejer asked. A nice-looking Doberman lay motionless on a black-and-crimson Oriental rug. Surely nobody would let a pregnant dog lie on a genuine Oriental rug, he thought. The dog was breathing hard, but otherwise she lay without moving, not even aware of the two strangers who had come into the room.
"It's her first time. Three pups, I think. I tried to count them. But it'll go fine. There's never any trouble with Hera."
He looked at them and shook his head. "I'm so upset about what happened that I can't concentrate on anything."
Johnas glanced at the dog as he talked, running a powerful hand over the top of his head, which was bald. A fringe of brown curls ringed his skull, and he had unusually dark eyes. A man of average build, but with a powerful torso and a few
extra pounds around his waist, possibly in his late thirties. As a younger man he might have looked like a darker version of Skarre. He had handsome features and good coloring, as if he had been in the south recently.
"You don't want to buy a pup, do you?"
He gave them a look of appeal.
"I've got a Leonberger," Sejer said. "And I don't think he'd forgive me if I came home with a puppy in tow. He's very spoiled."
Johnas directed them to the sofa, and pulled the coffee table out so the two men could slip past. "I met Fritzner by the garage this evening, as I was coming back from a trade fair in Oslo. He told me about it. I don't think it's really sunk in yet. I shouldn't have let her out of the car, I shouldn't have done that."
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the dog again.
"Annie came here often. She baby-sat for us. I know Sølvi too. If it had been her," he said in a low voice, "I could better understand it. Sølvi is more the type that would take off with someone if she got an invitation, even if she didn't know him. Doesn't think about anything but boys. But Annie..."
He looked at them. "Annie wasn't all that interested. And she was very cautious. And besides, I believe she had a boyfriend."
"That's right, she did. Do you know him?"
"No, no, not at all. But I've seen them in the street, from a distance. They seemed shy, weren't even holding hands."
He smiled rather sadly at the thought.
"Where were you headed when you picked up Annie?"
"I was going to work. For a while it looked as if Hera was going to have the puppies, but then there was another delay."
"When does your shop open?"
"At 11:00 A.M. "
"That's rather late, isn't it?"
"Yes. Well, people need milk and bread in the morning, but Persian carpets come later, after their more basic needs have been satisfied." He gave an ironic smile. "I have a carpet shop," he explained. "Downtown, on Cappelens
"Yes," Skarre said, "but it's easier to lock someone up if we can't stand his ugly face."
***
Johnas stuck his hand under the dog's stomach and pressed gently. She was breathing hard and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, a moist pink tongue. She lay very still and let him touch her. It wouldn't be long now. He stared out the window, hoping it would soon be over.
"Good girl, Hera," he said, petting her.
The dog stared past him, unmoved by his praise, so he sank down to the floor a short distance away, sat there and watched her. The silent, patient animal had his full attention. There was never any trouble with Hera, she was always obedient and kind as an angel. Never left his side when they went out for a walk, ate the food he gave her, and padded quietly over to her corner when he went upstairs to bed at night. He would have liked to sit there like that, very close, until it was all over, just listening to her breathe. Perhaps nothing would happen until early morning. He wasn't tired. Then the doorbell rang, one brief, shrill ring. He got up and opened the door.
Sejer gave him a firm, dry handshake. The man radiated authority. The younger officer was different, a thin, boyish hand with slender fingers. Johnas invited them in.
"How's it going with your dog?" Sejer asked. A nice-looking Doberman lay motionless on a black-and-crimson Oriental rug. Surely nobody would let a pregnant dog lie on a genuine Oriental rug, he thought. The dog was breathing hard, but otherwise she lay without moving, not even aware of the two strangers who had come into the room.
"It's her first time. Three pups, I think. I tried to count them. But it'll go fine. There's never any trouble with Hera."
He looked at them and shook his head. "I'm so upset about what happened that I can't concentrate on anything."
Johnas glanced at the dog as he talked, running a powerful hand over the top of his head, which was bald. A fringe of brown curls ringed his skull, and he had unusually dark eyes. A man of average build, but with a powerful torso and a few
extra pounds around his waist, possibly in his late thirties. As a younger man he might have looked like a darker version of Skarre. He had handsome features and good coloring, as if he had been in the south recently.
"You don't want to buy a pup, do you?"
He gave them a look of appeal.
"I've got a Leonberger," Sejer said. "And I don't think he'd forgive me if I came home with a puppy in tow. He's very spoiled."
Johnas directed them to the sofa, and pulled the coffee table out so the two men could slip past. "I met Fritzner by the garage this evening, as I was coming back from a trade fair in Oslo. He told me about it. I don't think it's really sunk in yet. I shouldn't have let her out of the car, I shouldn't have done that."
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the dog again.
"Annie came here often. She baby-sat for us. I know Sølvi too. If it had been her," he said in a low voice, "I could better understand it. Sølvi is more the type that would take off with someone if she got an invitation, even if she didn't know him. Doesn't think about anything but boys. But Annie..."
He looked at them. "Annie wasn't all that interested. And she was very cautious. And besides, I believe she had a boyfriend."
"That's right, she did. Do you know him?"
"No, no, not at all. But I've seen them in the street, from a distance. They seemed shy, weren't even holding hands."
He smiled rather sadly at the thought.
"Where were you headed when you picked up Annie?"
"I was going to work. For a while it looked as if Hera was going to have the puppies, but then there was another delay."
"When does your shop open?"
"At 11:00 A.M. "
"That's rather late, isn't it?"
"Yes. Well, people need milk and bread in the morning, but Persian carpets come later, after their more basic needs have been satisfied." He gave an ironic smile. "I have a carpet shop," he explained. "Downtown, on Cappelens
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