Helene Eriksen was ashen-faced and so nervous that she jumped when Mia and Munch entered the small interview room.
‘He hasn’t done anything. You have to believe me,’ she implored them, and got up from her chair.
‘Hello, Helene,’ Mia said. ‘You should probably sit down again. We’re going to be here for a while.’
‘But I … Please, believe me. Holger?’
The normally confident manager of Hurumlandet Nurseries was a shadow of her former self. She looked almost beseechingly at Munch before slumping back in her chair and covering her face with her hands.
‘It doesn’t look good for either of you,’ Munch said, sitting down next to Mia.
‘Me?’ Helene sounded frightened. ‘But I haven’t done anything.’
‘But you think he might have?’ Mia said.
‘What? No, Henrik hasn’t done anything either. Dear God, he’s as gentle as a lamb, he would never hurt anyone. I don’t care what people have been telling you, you must believe me.’
‘And what have they been telling us?’ Mia said calmly.
She looked at Munch, and down at the tape recorder on the side of the table, but Munch shook his head discreetly.
‘Where is Henrik?’ Helene asked desperately.
‘Your brother is next door, waiting for his lawyer.’
‘He doesn’t need a lawyer,’ Helene said. ‘He hasn’t done anything wrong, I keep telling you.’
‘He definitely needs a lawyer,’ Munch went on coolly. ‘We have advised him to get one because, in a few hours, he’ll be charged with the murder of Camilla Green. He’ll be brought before a judge in order to be remanded in custody overnight.’
Helene looked at Munch again, then swiftly down at the tape recorder, but Munch shook his head again.
‘No, no, no. Please believe me. He hasn’t done anything.’ Helene Eriksen was on the verge of tears now. ‘I don’t care what people might have told you. You have to listen to me, I’m begging you. Besides, he wasn’t at home. He was—’
‘And what do you think people have told us?’ Mia cut her off.
The blonde woman paused, then she continued. ‘The business about the feathers,’ she said in a low voice. ‘People can be so mean. They gossip. Why can’t they just mind their own business. It makes me so mad that—’
‘You could kill someone?’
‘What?’ Helene Eriksen said, looking at Mia. ‘No, of course not. I was just—’
‘Were you there? Or did you just help him cover it up?’ Munch said.
‘What?’
‘After all, he is your brother,’ Mia said. ‘I mean, it’s understandable. You’re very close, aren’t you? After everything you have been through?’
‘No, when did you …?’ Helene Eriksen stuttered. ‘Of course I didn’t help him.’
‘So he acted alone?’
‘No, Henrik hasn’t done anything. Why won’t you listen to me?’
‘But you knew that he – well, how can I put it? – liked dressing up as a bird?’
‘But that was years ago. I hate small towns, nothing but curtain twitchers. Sometimes—’
‘So he has stopped?’
‘Stopped what?’
‘Dressing up as a bird?’ Mia continued.
‘Yes, for God’s sake, I just told you—’
‘How long ago?’
‘Years, I mean, it hasn’t happened since—’
‘So you admit that he liked dressing up as a bird?’ Munch said.
‘Yes, but that was in the past. I just told you.’
Munch was aware that Mia’s eyes were starting to sparkle again.
‘Was this before or after you were brought back from Australia?’
Helene Eriksen grew quiet now, as if she had to travel back in her mind to a time she would rather forget.
‘Not immediately after we came back,’ she said quietly. ‘He needed help, don’t you understand? They had hurt him. It wasn’t his fault. It doesn’t make him a killer. Those psychos down there kept us imprisoned. They made us believe all sorts of things, punished us for the slightest offence. I’m proud of him, I am, let me tell you that.’
Helene Eriksen straightened up a little in her chair and, for a moment, they could see something of the woman they had first met at the Nurseries.
‘After everything he has been through, he has done incredibly well. I’m proud of him. Not many people would survive something like that. He’s the best person I know. I would do anything for him.’
‘And indeed, you did,’ Mia said.
‘What?’
‘When did you realize that he had killed Camilla?’ Munch said.
‘What?’ Helene stammered. ‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?’
‘No, Holger,’ Mia said, looking at Munch. ‘That wasn’t the question you were supposed to ask.’
‘Oh?’ Munch said, looking back at Mia Krüger rather than Helene Eriksen.
‘You were supposed to ask when she began suspecting that her brother had done it,’ Mia said.
‘Right, sorry, my mistake.’ Munch smiled, turning to Helene Eriksen again. ‘When did you begin to suspect that Henrik had killed Camilla Green?’
‘I don’t know,’ the blonde woman said, drumming her fingers nervously on the table. ‘Are you asking about the first time, when I thought that perhaps—’
‘When Henrik’s name first came to mind, yes.’ Munch nodded cautiously.
‘It was that picture in the papers, of course. When I saw that the forest floor was covered in feathers,’ Helene Eriksen said tentatively, glancing quickly up at them both. ‘Well, you know. Where Camilla had been lying.’
‘Because he didn’t stop it immediately? I mean, after you came back from Australia?’ Mia said in a friendly voice.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dressing up as a bird,’ Munch said.
Helene Eriksen glared at them.
‘You don’t recover from something like that overnight. Have you any idea how we were treated? What Henrik was subjected to? They locked him in a beaten-earth cellar. Not just once, several times. We were treated like lab rats. I mean, for God’s sake, I was nearly three years old. Henrik was nearly five. When we were sent there. Do you know what we had to suffer? We thought it was how the world really was, do you understand? Is it any wonder he got ill? That he found a place inside his mind where he could escape?’
‘So he carried on doing it?’ Munch asked.
‘Yes, and what of it? I’m incredibly proud of him. He has done so well for himself.’
‘That’s all very touching,’ Mia Krüger said, taking out the envelope she had kept in the inside pocket of her leather jacket. ‘And, under normal circumstances, I would feel very sorry for both of you.’
The dark-haired investigator opened the envelope and placed the photograph on the table in front of Helene Eriksen.
Camilla Green.
Naked on the forest floor.
With terrified, open eyes.
Mia looked at Munch again, who nodded to indicate that she should turn on the recorder.
‘The time is 18.25. Present in the room is the head of the investigative unit at 13 Mariboesgate, Holger Munch, homicide investigator Mia Krüger and …’
Helene Eriksen’s face had been almost white when they entered, but it drained of any remaining colour when she saw the photograph Mia had just placed in front of her.
‘Your name, date of birth and your current address,’ Mia said, pointing to the tape recorder.
Several seconds passed, and Mia had to repeat her request before the Nurseries manager was able to open her mouth.
‘Helene Eriksen. 25 July 1969. Hurumlandet Nurseries, 3482 Tofte.’
The words came out slowly between the white lips, while her eyes were still unable to tear themselves away from the horrific photograph.
‘You’re entitled to have a lawyer present,’ Mia continued. ‘And if you can’t afford legal advice, you’ll be allocated a lawyer—’
She was interrupted by a knock on the door; Anette Goli popped her head round and nodded to Munch to indicate that he should join her outside.
‘What is it?’ he asked when he had closed the door behind him.
‘We have a problem,’ Anette Goli said. ‘His lawyer is here.’
‘And?’
‘He was out of the country.’
‘What!’
Munch frowned.
‘Henrik Eriksen. He was out of the country.’
‘Out of the country?’ Munch echoed.
‘He has a farmhouse in Italy,’ Goli said. ‘Spends every summer there.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Henrik Eriksen. He wasn’t in Norway when Camilla was murdered.’
‘But that’s impossible!’ Munch exclaimed.
‘So what do we do?’ the police lawyer wanted to know.
‘You and Kim,’ Munch said, having considered his options.
‘Seriously?’
‘Standard interview. Get as much out of him as you can in, say, twenty minutes, and then we’ll meet back out here.’
‘OK.’ Anette Goli nodded briefly as Munch opened the door and went back into the interview room.