It should not have come as a surprise, and yet it did: how the light in the sky refused to come out, although it was early afternoon. Holger Munch lit a cigarette and watched his cold fingers in the orange glow from the tip and, yet again, the thought came back to him, the one he had had so many times recently: that people were never meant to live up here. This far north. An historic mistake. An anomaly. The Norwegian race were descendants of people who must have taken a wrong turn somewhere in the past; why else pick this cold, this darkness, when the planet was full of sunshine and beaches, fertile lands, gardens of Eden? There was little evidence of that here, he decided, as he stood with the hood of his duffel coat up, trying to discern a pattern in the information he had gathered from the hours of interviewing the girls. So far, not one of them had given them anything on which they could build any kind of investigation. They all seemed terrified, and none of them was keen to speak to the police.
Munch tightened his duffel coat and took another drag on his cigarette as the door to the main building opened and Helene Eriksen walked down the steps towards him.
‘You can smoke indoors, if you like,’ she said, attempting a smile, although she clearly had to force it.
She had seemed broken the first time he had met her, and the last couple of days had not helped. That little spark of life he had seen in her eyes then was completely gone now, and Munch could not help but feel sorry for her.
‘And we can get you some coffee,’ she offered cautiously. ‘Today has been just as long for you, as it has been for us.’
‘I don’t drink coffee these days,’ Munch said politely, ‘but a cup of tea would be nice.’
‘I have tea as well,’ Helene smiled, and led the way back inside, where she showed him into a small sitting room on the ground floor.
‘My sanctuary,’ the manager said when Munch had taken a seat. ‘Sometimes it’s good to have a place where you can be on your own.’
Munch put his coat over the armrest of the chair. He was growing to like this woman. She helped people. She ran a home for troubled youngsters. A good person with a big heart.
‘I don’t have many varieties to choose from,’ she said, placing a bowl of teabags on the table in front of him.
‘That’s quite all right,’ Munch said. ‘Anything to get the cold out of my bones.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Helene sat down in the armchair opposite him as Munch picked a random teabag and poured water from a kettle into his mug.
‘Do you mind if I have one?’ she said, gesturing to his cigarettes on the table.
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t smoke, not really,’ Helene said apologetically, placing a cigarette between her lips. ‘I quit a long time ago, it’s a filthy habit, I know, but, well …’
‘I understand.’ Munch smiled as he reached across the table and flicked his lighter for her.
Helene leaned back and blew smoke up at the ceiling. She looked as if she was mulling something over, as if she had something on her mind, something she wanted to share with him, but nothing came.
‘We’re almost finished,’ Munch said, to reassure her. ‘You’ll be left in peace soon, we’ve got a lot done, spoken to most people on our list today.’
‘Have you learned anything? Has it been useful?’
‘I can’t discuss the details with you. I hope you can understand that,’ Munch said. ‘But yes, I think we’ve found out what we needed to.’
‘Good.’ Helene smiled. ‘If you need anything from me, it goes without saying that you can contact me any time. You just let me know, OK?’
‘Thank you, Helene. You have been nothing but helpful. We really appreciate that.’
‘That’s good,’ she said, taking another quick drag on her cigarette, before stubbing it out in the ashtray and turning to Munch with another smile.
‘I used to smoke twenty a day, but now I can manage on just a few puffs.’
Helene Eriksen sat staring into space, and Munch was suddenly reminded of Mia’s words after the first interview they had held out here.
She knows something.
He coughed lightly, stubbed out his own cigarette and got up to leave.
‘Thanks for the tea, but I had better get back to work. We still have quite a few names left on the list.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Helene Eriksen said, walking with him out of the sitting room.
‘There was just one thing,’ Munch said when they were back in the corridor.
‘Yes?’
‘I gather from the lists of residents and staff that not everyone is here today. Am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s just that …’ Munch said.
‘Yes?’
‘There’s one person I’m not sure about; he might be here, but I haven’t managed to arrange an interview with him.’
‘Aha. Who are you thinking of?’
‘Rolf Lycke,’ Munch said with a light cough.
‘Rolf?’ Helene Eriksen said with a frown.
‘Yes? I gather he’s a teacher here?’
Helene shook her head. ‘No, no. He stopped working here ages ago.’
‘But he used to teach here?’
‘Yes, but only for a brief period. He was, well, I would say, a good teacher, of course, and I would have liked him to stay, but I don’t think this was the job for him. I don’t want to speak ill about my girls, but, in academic terms, the level isn’t terribly high – am I allowed to say that? I think Rolf Lycke had big ambitions. If you want to talk to him, I can arrange it. I mean, I still have his number somewhere, I think. Would you like me to look for it?’
‘Oh, no,’ Munch said. ‘I’ll just stick to the lists we have here.’
‘OK.’ Helene nodded.
Munch’s mobile began to vibrate. He had turned the ring tone off during the interviews but, as usual, he had forgotten to turn off vibrate. Anette Goli’s name appeared on the display.
‘Yes?’ Munch said.
‘I think we’ve got him. Have you spoken to Mia? She has been trying to get hold of you. She found something at the riding school, but it doesn’t matter now …’
‘Who?’
‘We have a confession.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ Goli went on. ‘He handed himself in. We have him in custody. He’s down at Grønland. He has confessed to the murder.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Munch said. He pressed the red button, made his excuses and ran out to the black Audi outside.