Skarre said to nudge the long-winded story to a useful point.
"His sister had ended up in the hospital after a car crash. Seriously injured."
Another silence. Skarre rolled his eyes. Sejer put a finger to his mouth.
"He had to go to the hospital immediately, of course, to be with her. It's a terrible business. But he called me because he was in fact supposed to have been at Gardermoen."
"Gardermoen airport?" Skarre said.
"He was expecting a visitor from abroad. And—would you believe it?—he told me that during his two weeks in India he had managed to get himself married!"
Skarre smiled. The man's reaction to something so bizarre was expressed in an excited crescendo.
"So this woman I was asked to collect, she was, in other words, his wife. His Indian wife."
Sejer and Skarre exchanged glances.
"Ah!" Skarre smiled, affected by the man's excitement.
"But as it turned out, I never found her."
The caller struggled with his complicated story. The three men listened intently. They recognized that this was important, the very first step on the way to a result.
"She was supposed to land at six o'clock," the narrative continued. "But she never turned up."
"Why hasn't he called himself?" Skarre said.
"That's what's worrying me. I did call him later to check if she had arrived. Perhaps taken another taxi. You see, I'm a taxi driver in Elvestad. In fact, the only one," he said. "Or she might have gone to a hotel, something like that. But his reply was so vague. I don't think he dares to think about it. He's not quite himself and it's all become too much for him, with his sister and everything. That's why I'm calling."
"What is his name?" Skarre said, fumbling for a pen.
"Gunder Jomann. He lives a little out of the middle of Elvestad, Blindveien 2. It's a dead end. I don't know if he's at home now; he may be at the hospital. Anyway, as I said, I'm really worried. Perhaps she tried to find her own way when Jomann wasn't there to meet her as she had expected. And then something happened to her on the way."
"I understand," Skarre said. "Do you have her name?"
"Yes," he said. "I put it somewhere on a piece of paper, but I'm wearing a different shirt today. I put it in my breast pocket."
"Can you find it for me?" Skarre said.
"That shirt could be in the washing machine. Damnation!" he said. "You're not going straight to his house now, are you?" he said. "I could be quite wrong."
"By no means," Skarre said firmly. "We're grateful for your help. We'll look into it."
He hung up. They looked at each other.
"We're going straight there," Sejer said.
***
The powerful headlights from a car swept across his yard. Gunder was startled. Could it be Karsten? He ran his hands over his balding head and hurried into the hall. Reluctantly he opened the door. When he saw the police car he took a step back. Sejer came up the steps with his hand held out.
"Jomann?"
"Yes."
His handshake was firm.
"I'm Inspector Sejer. This is my colleague Skarre. Could we come inside for a moment?"
Gunder led the way and stopped in the living room. He looked at the two men. One was more than six feet tall and close to him in age. The other was a good deal younger and had big blond curls.
"Perhaps you know why we're here?" Sejer said.
Gunder stuttered. "I suppose it has something to do with the accident?"
"Your sister's, you mean?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry to hear about your sister," Sejer said. "How is she doing?"
"Her husband has come back from Hamburg. He's with her now. He has promised to call. She's still in a coma."
Sejer nodded. "This is about something else."
Gunder's heart sank. "Then please sit down," he said softly. He gestured vaguely. He seemed tense. It looked as if he wanted to run from the house. Sejer and Skarre sat on the sofa and looked about the tidy, orderly room. Sejer watched Jomann fiddling with something on the wall, a little farther away.
"I'm sorry," Gunder said as he joined them. "There was just something important I had
"His sister had ended up in the hospital after a car crash. Seriously injured."
Another silence. Skarre rolled his eyes. Sejer put a finger to his mouth.
"He had to go to the hospital immediately, of course, to be with her. It's a terrible business. But he called me because he was in fact supposed to have been at Gardermoen."
"Gardermoen airport?" Skarre said.
"He was expecting a visitor from abroad. And—would you believe it?—he told me that during his two weeks in India he had managed to get himself married!"
Skarre smiled. The man's reaction to something so bizarre was expressed in an excited crescendo.
"So this woman I was asked to collect, she was, in other words, his wife. His Indian wife."
Sejer and Skarre exchanged glances.
"Ah!" Skarre smiled, affected by the man's excitement.
"But as it turned out, I never found her."
The caller struggled with his complicated story. The three men listened intently. They recognized that this was important, the very first step on the way to a result.
"She was supposed to land at six o'clock," the narrative continued. "But she never turned up."
"Why hasn't he called himself?" Skarre said.
"That's what's worrying me. I did call him later to check if she had arrived. Perhaps taken another taxi. You see, I'm a taxi driver in Elvestad. In fact, the only one," he said. "Or she might have gone to a hotel, something like that. But his reply was so vague. I don't think he dares to think about it. He's not quite himself and it's all become too much for him, with his sister and everything. That's why I'm calling."
"What is his name?" Skarre said, fumbling for a pen.
"Gunder Jomann. He lives a little out of the middle of Elvestad, Blindveien 2. It's a dead end. I don't know if he's at home now; he may be at the hospital. Anyway, as I said, I'm really worried. Perhaps she tried to find her own way when Jomann wasn't there to meet her as she had expected. And then something happened to her on the way."
"I understand," Skarre said. "Do you have her name?"
"Yes," he said. "I put it somewhere on a piece of paper, but I'm wearing a different shirt today. I put it in my breast pocket."
"Can you find it for me?" Skarre said.
"That shirt could be in the washing machine. Damnation!" he said. "You're not going straight to his house now, are you?" he said. "I could be quite wrong."
"By no means," Skarre said firmly. "We're grateful for your help. We'll look into it."
He hung up. They looked at each other.
"We're going straight there," Sejer said.
***
The powerful headlights from a car swept across his yard. Gunder was startled. Could it be Karsten? He ran his hands over his balding head and hurried into the hall. Reluctantly he opened the door. When he saw the police car he took a step back. Sejer came up the steps with his hand held out.
"Jomann?"
"Yes."
His handshake was firm.
"I'm Inspector Sejer. This is my colleague Skarre. Could we come inside for a moment?"
Gunder led the way and stopped in the living room. He looked at the two men. One was more than six feet tall and close to him in age. The other was a good deal younger and had big blond curls.
"Perhaps you know why we're here?" Sejer said.
Gunder stuttered. "I suppose it has something to do with the accident?"
"Your sister's, you mean?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry to hear about your sister," Sejer said. "How is she doing?"
"Her husband has come back from Hamburg. He's with her now. He has promised to call. She's still in a coma."
Sejer nodded. "This is about something else."
Gunder's heart sank. "Then please sit down," he said softly. He gestured vaguely. He seemed tense. It looked as if he wanted to run from the house. Sejer and Skarre sat on the sofa and looked about the tidy, orderly room. Sejer watched Jomann fiddling with something on the wall, a little farther away.
"I'm sorry," Gunder said as he joined them. "There was just something important I had
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