Arvid said, opening the living-room door. 'She has to rest, poor thing.'
Frølich followed Arvid into a room with a high ceiling and elegant furniture. The dust collected in balls along the skirting boards. Thick curtains took up most of the space by the windows and let scant light into the room. They seated themselves at a table on which there was a tray of coffee cups, a coffee flask, a sugar bowl, glasses and bottles.
'Even though he was the eldest, I had always thought that Reidar would outlive me,' Frølich's host said dourly. He was wearing a suit with a broad stripe and had a watch chain in his waistcoat pocket. Around his neck he had tied a dark red silk scarf. 'He survived everything, Reidar did. He was even shot down over Germany in 1944, but escaped without a scratch. Reidar only seemed to grow older on the outside; I suppose I must have thought he was immortal. Would you like a glass of port with your coffee?'
Frølich shook his head.
'You're quite right,' Arvid sighed, holding an empty glass in front of his eyes. He found a stain and wiped it with his handkerchief before pouring himself a drink. 'I have port now instead of cognac; port is milder.'
Frølich leaned forward and reached for a bulbous, yellow thermal coffee flask. As he touched the lid, it burst open with a damp pop. He poured himself some coffee. 'But how do you see his murder? It's one thing being surprised by your brother's death, but a murder…'
Arvid shook his head. 'Mm,' he mumbled. 'It's beyond me.'
'If Reidar had caught a burglar red-handed, what do you think he would have done?'
Arvid put the bottle of port down on the table and considered. 'I wouldn't begin to know. Nowadays there are so many desperate drug addicts and so on. People you just can't work out. You know much more about this than me, of course. But Reidar was aware of this too. He read newspapers and watched TV like everyone else.'
'How do you think he would have reacted? Would he have kept out of the way, would he have talked to the person, or…?
'I think he would have kept out of the way or - maybe not. Reidar was a very determined character. Once he had an idea in his head, it took a lot to dissuade him. Personally, I am a bit different, I'm a little cautious and don't like tense atmospheres. I know I would have kept out of the way or stayed quiet. Reidar never seemed to be afraid, or he became like that, I suppose. He had to maintain this image of himself. Of course, he might have told this intruder to clear off, or threatened him in some other way.' Arvid took a sip from his glass. 'A terrible business,' he mumbled. 'Terrible business…'
Frølich sipped at his coffee, which was thin, light brown. Two grains of coffee floated around on the surface. One of them went in his mouth. After he had taken it out, it stuck to the tip of his forefinger. 'Is it long since you last saw your brother?' the police officer asked, discreetly wiping the coffee grain onto the saucer.
The man on the other side of the table gave a start, as though awakened from profound thoughts. 'No, no, he was round here yesterday, with Emmanuel. That reminds me, I promised to ring him. Would you please remind me? Mention it before you leave?'
'When did he come here?'
'At about twelve, maybe just after.'
'About?'
'Yes, he may have come a few minutes later. I think we had been waiting for a while.'
'And when did he leave?'
'He must have been here for just under an hour.'
'How did he seem?'
Arvid stroked his chin. 'He was not himself at all; he seemed quite off-kilter.'
Frølich's eyebrows rose in surprise.
'Yes. You saw Silvie, my poor dog. He tried to kill her. It was fortunate that things turned out as they did.'
'He tried to kill your dog?'
Arvid nodded. 'I know it sounds crazy - Reidar kicked
Frølich followed Arvid into a room with a high ceiling and elegant furniture. The dust collected in balls along the skirting boards. Thick curtains took up most of the space by the windows and let scant light into the room. They seated themselves at a table on which there was a tray of coffee cups, a coffee flask, a sugar bowl, glasses and bottles.
'Even though he was the eldest, I had always thought that Reidar would outlive me,' Frølich's host said dourly. He was wearing a suit with a broad stripe and had a watch chain in his waistcoat pocket. Around his neck he had tied a dark red silk scarf. 'He survived everything, Reidar did. He was even shot down over Germany in 1944, but escaped without a scratch. Reidar only seemed to grow older on the outside; I suppose I must have thought he was immortal. Would you like a glass of port with your coffee?'
Frølich shook his head.
'You're quite right,' Arvid sighed, holding an empty glass in front of his eyes. He found a stain and wiped it with his handkerchief before pouring himself a drink. 'I have port now instead of cognac; port is milder.'
Frølich leaned forward and reached for a bulbous, yellow thermal coffee flask. As he touched the lid, it burst open with a damp pop. He poured himself some coffee. 'But how do you see his murder? It's one thing being surprised by your brother's death, but a murder…'
Arvid shook his head. 'Mm,' he mumbled. 'It's beyond me.'
'If Reidar had caught a burglar red-handed, what do you think he would have done?'
Arvid put the bottle of port down on the table and considered. 'I wouldn't begin to know. Nowadays there are so many desperate drug addicts and so on. People you just can't work out. You know much more about this than me, of course. But Reidar was aware of this too. He read newspapers and watched TV like everyone else.'
'How do you think he would have reacted? Would he have kept out of the way, would he have talked to the person, or…?
'I think he would have kept out of the way or - maybe not. Reidar was a very determined character. Once he had an idea in his head, it took a lot to dissuade him. Personally, I am a bit different, I'm a little cautious and don't like tense atmospheres. I know I would have kept out of the way or stayed quiet. Reidar never seemed to be afraid, or he became like that, I suppose. He had to maintain this image of himself. Of course, he might have told this intruder to clear off, or threatened him in some other way.' Arvid took a sip from his glass. 'A terrible business,' he mumbled. 'Terrible business…'
Frølich sipped at his coffee, which was thin, light brown. Two grains of coffee floated around on the surface. One of them went in his mouth. After he had taken it out, it stuck to the tip of his forefinger. 'Is it long since you last saw your brother?' the police officer asked, discreetly wiping the coffee grain onto the saucer.
The man on the other side of the table gave a start, as though awakened from profound thoughts. 'No, no, he was round here yesterday, with Emmanuel. That reminds me, I promised to ring him. Would you please remind me? Mention it before you leave?'
'When did he come here?'
'At about twelve, maybe just after.'
'About?'
'Yes, he may have come a few minutes later. I think we had been waiting for a while.'
'And when did he leave?'
'He must have been here for just under an hour.'
'How did he seem?'
Arvid stroked his chin. 'He was not himself at all; he seemed quite off-kilter.'
Frølich's eyebrows rose in surprise.
'Yes. You saw Silvie, my poor dog. He tried to kill her. It was fortunate that things turned out as they did.'
'He tried to kill your dog?'
Arvid nodded. 'I know it sounds crazy - Reidar kicked
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