Munch was quickly let through the cordons outside the entrance to Hurumlandet Nurseries and, as the press photographers’ flashlights struck his car, he was extremely pleased that he had chosen to send Mia to the riding school.
He shook his head and glanced up at the rear-view mirror as he drove up the avenue leading to the Nurseries. Helene Eriksen had called him early that morning, and she had not exaggerated: ‘The place has been invaded by the press, like a swarm of locusts, they get in everywhere. The girls are scared. What do we do?’
Munch smiled to himself as he parked in front of the main building and got out of the black Audi. He was starting to like Helene Eriksen. Locusts. He could not have put it better himself.
Munch lit a cigarette as Kim Kolsø came down the steps of the big white house.
‘What a circus,’ Kim said, nodding towards the bottom of the avenue.
‘Seems we have it under control,’ Munch said. ‘How does it look?’
‘Good.’ Kim nodded, looking about him quickly. ‘We have been given two classrooms and an office. It’s a bit primitive, but we have managed to get started. Grønlie seems chuffed to be out of the office, the Jensen Twins are here, I’ve put up the lists like you asked me to; you and I will interview the more important ones.’
Munch had requested assistance from police headquarters at Grønland, and Mikkelson had allocated them two officers from Kripos, the national crime agency, both called Jensen, and better known as the Jensen Twins. They would not have been Munch’s first choice, but they needed more manpower, so it was better than nothing.
‘Curry is on his way. He can work with them,’ Munch informed him, taking a deep drag on his cigarette in order to hide his irritation.
‘Really? I thought Mia said he was ill?’
‘He seems to have recovered.’
‘Good,’ Kim said, walking in front of his boss up the steps and into the improvised interview room.
‘So who is first?’ Munch asked when he had taken off his coat and rubbed his hands warm.
It was still cold outside. Munch thought about Mia. Munch hated the cold and the darkness but knew that his young colleague suffered much more from them. It was as if the darkness took hold of her mind and did not release its grip until springtime. He put Mia out of his mind and looked at the name at the top of the list Kolsø had put in front of him.
‘Benedikte Riis?’ he said, looking quizzically towards his colleague. ‘I thought we had agreed that you and I would take this Paulus first?’
Kim gave a light, apologetic shrug. ‘Grønlie took him.’
‘Why?’
‘He insisted. Paulus was standing outside when we arrived,’ Kim said. ‘Didn’t seem like he had got a lot of sleep: “I guess you’ll want to talk to me first, given who I am? I would like to be interviewed first.”’
‘I see,’ Munch grunted. ‘“Who I am”? What did he mean by that?’
‘I guess he thinks we’ve seen his rap sheet.’
‘Minor stuff, wasn’t it?’ Munch was a little surprised.
‘Yes, indeed. Possession of a bit of cannabis, breaking into a shop, crashing a stolen car, all when he was a juvenile. He might have done other things we don’t know about. He was certainly feeling guilty about something.’
‘OK,’ Munch said, flicking through the papers in front of him. ‘And who is Benedikte Riis?’
‘The last person to see Camilla Green alive. Says she has important information. I believe Helene Eriksen has tried to get it out of her, but she refuses to open her mouth unless she can speak to a police officer.’
‘Is that right?’ Munch said, raising his eyebrows. ‘OK, let’s get her in.’