Mia Krüger put the white plastic cup into the slot, pressed the button and watched as something that was supposed to be coffee poured out of the ancient machine. It would have to do. She carried the hot plastic cup down the corridor and into the small room where Anette Goli and Kim were sitting with Munch, who was looking unusually gloomy.
‘OK?’ Munch said. ‘Anette?’
Mia raised the cup to her lips, only to put it straight back down on the table again. The coffee tasted even worse than it looked.
‘As I was saying,’ Goli said, looking across to Kim Kolsø.
‘Henrik Eriksen, he wasn’t here,’ Kim Kolsø said.
‘What!’ Mia exclaimed.
‘Last summer. When the girl disappeared,’ Kolsø explained.
Mia looked at Munch.
‘He has a house in Tuscany,’ Anette Goli went on. ‘Goes there for three months every summer. He wasn’t in Norway.’
Mia looked at Munch again, and he gave a light shrug.
‘So we have nothing on him,’ Kim said. ‘He wasn’t here. When it happened. I think—’
‘But, for Pete’s sake,’ Mia burst out. ‘The man glues feathers all over his body, he thinks he’s a bird …’
She glanced at Munch, who merely shrugged again and pressed his hand against his temple.
‘His lawyer says,’ Goli continued, ‘that he can produce witnesses who will confirm that he was in Italy all summer.’
‘No way,’ Mia said.
‘He wasn’t in the country. We have nothing on him.’
‘But Helene Eriksen has already confirmed it? I mean, the feathers. The sect they belonged to? That he was sick in the head. Wanted to be an owl. Come on, people, I don’t understand what we’re—’
‘He wasn’t in Norway,’ Anette repeated.
‘Tuscany,’ Kim Kolsø added.
‘Well, he could just have flown back, couldn’t he?’
‘No, sorry,’ Anette said. ‘He was abroad the whole time.’
‘How do we know that?’ Mia challenged her.
Anette slid a piece of paper towards Munch.
The fat investigator looked at it and nodded.
‘What?’ Mia said.
‘His phone records.’ Munch sighed, pushing the paper back across the table.
‘He didn’t do it,’ Kim Kolsø said.
‘But seriously, Holger,’ Mia said, ignoring the piece of paper they had now pushed towards her. ‘The feathers? An owl? She admitted it!’
Munch was standing with his hands pressed against his temples now, not saying anything.
‘That he was sick in the head? Come on, Holger?’
‘Are you sure?’ Munch said after a pause.
‘One hundred per cent,’ Goli replied.
‘He wasn’t here,’ Kim insisted.
Mia felt crushed with disappointment. The phone in her pocket vibrated, as it had done a hundred times in the last hour. She took out her mobile and looked at it.
‘So what do we do? Do we have to let them go?’
A long list of calls from Ludvig Grønlie. And an MMS with a picture.
Why don’t you pick up your phone?
Who is this young man?
Watch his expression.
Looking at the camera.
‘Yes, we have no choice,’ Anette Goli said. ‘We thought we might be able to keep Helene Eriksen, because she, well, thought that her brother might have done it, but how long do you think that will stand up?’
‘OK.’ Munch nodded. ‘We’ll release them.’
A photograph of a school group. A place Mia had visited. The Natural History Museum. Everyone looking at the guide, some animals in a display cabinet. Except for one person. A young man with round spectacles and wearing a white shirt. With curious eyes. Directed at the surveillance camera.
‘So is that it?’ Munch said.
‘We can keep them overnight, if we like,’ Goli said.
‘I need a few minutes with Helene Eriksen,’ Mia said.
‘Why?’ Munch wanted to know.
‘I want to know who this is.’
She slid her mobile across to Munch, who narrowed his eyes and clutched his head again.
‘What am I looking at?’ he asked.
‘A CCTV photo from the Natural History Museum.’
‘OK,’ Munch said. ‘We’ll keep them overnight.’
‘Holger?’ Anette Goli said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘What? Yes, yes, of course. I just need … A glass of water would be good,’ Munch mumbled, and left the room.
The three investigators looked at each other.
‘Is he ill?’ Anette asked.
Kim Kolsø shrugged as Mia went out into the corridor and back to the interview room where Helene Eriksen sat slumped over the table with her head resting on her hands.
‘Who is this?’ Mia said, placing her mobile on the table in front of her.
‘What?’ Helene mumbled.
‘This young man,’ Mia said, pointing to the picture Ludvig had sent her.
Helene Eriksen seemed completely distracted, as if she had no idea what Mia had just asked.
‘Who?’
‘This boy? In the picture? Who is he?’
Helene Eriksen slowly picked up the mobile and sat staring at it, perplexed, as if she did not know why she was here.
‘You went on a school trip, didn’t you? To the Natural History Museum? In August?’
‘How did you get this?’ Helene said.
‘You were there?’
‘Yes? Why?’
‘Who is the young man?’
Helene frowned and looked up at Mia, then back down at the picture.
‘Do you mean Jacob?’
‘His name is Jacob?’ Mia said.
‘Yes,’ Helene nodded. ‘But …?’
‘Why did he go on the trip? He’s not a resident, is he? And he doesn’t work there either?’
‘No – or, yes …’
‘Why was his name not on the lists we were given?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You were supposed to send us lists of all the residents and staff, only this boy didn’t appear in either of them.’
‘Jacob used to live with us,’ Helene Eriksen said slowly, looking down at the picture again. ‘But that was many years ago.’
‘And yet he was on the school trip?’
‘Yes, yes. He often visits us. Jacob was our youngest ever resident, and one of those who lived with us the longest. He’s practically family. He often stops by, and we’re all pleased to see him. He helps us with our computers – he doesn’t want any money for it, so he’s not an employee, but …’
‘Computers? He’s good with them?’
‘Jacob? I should say so.’ Helene Eriksen was starting to smile. ‘He’s a genius. A child prodigy. Incredible, really, given everything he has been through.’
‘What’s his full name?’ Mia said, trying not to show Helene Eriksen how keen she was to know it.
‘Jacob Marstrander.’ Helene said, seeming confused. ‘Surely you don’t think that …?’