and he wasn't stupid either. After a while he couldn't bear standing there any longer, so he ran to the kitchen instead, but there was a face there too. Fair, curly hair and a dark uniform. Raymond felt like a kitten in a sack, with cold water pouring over him. He hadn't been out with the van today; it still wouldn't start, so it couldn't have anything to do with that. It must be about the matter up by the tarn, he thought desperately. He stood there, rocking a little. After a while he went out to the hall and looked anxiously at the key in the lock.
"Raymond!" one of them called. "We just want to talk. We won't hurt you."
"I wasn't mean to Ragnhild!" he shouted.
"We know that. That's not why we're here. We just need a little help from you."
Still he hesitated, before finally opening the door.
"May we come in?" the taller one said. "We have to ask you a few questions."
"All right. I wasn't sure what you wanted. I can't open the door to just anyone."
"No, you certainly can't," Sejer said, looking around. "But it's good if you open the door when it's the police."
"We'll sit in the living room then."
Raymond walked ahead of them and pointed to the sofa, which looked oddly handmade. An old tartan blanket lay on the seat. They sat down and studied the room, rather small and square, with sofa, table and two chairs. On the walls were paintings of animals and a photograph of an elderly woman with a boy on her lap. Perhaps his mother. The child had the features Sejer associated with Down's syndrome, and the woman's age might have been the reason for Raymond's fate. From where they were sitting, no television set was visible, nor a telephone. Sejer couldn't remember having seen a living room without a TV in years.
"Is your father home?" he began, looking at Raymond's T-shirt. It was white and bore the words: I'M THE ONE WHO DECIDES.
"He's in bed. He doesn't get up any more. He can't walk."
"So you take care of him?"
"I make the food and clean the house, just so you know!"
"Your father's pretty lucky to have you."
Raymond gave a big smile, in that uncommonly charming manner characteristic of people with Down's syndrome. An uncorrupted child in a robust body. He had powerful, broad hands with unusually short fingers and big bulky shoulders.
"You were so nice to Ragnhild yesterday, and you took her home," Sejer said, "so she didn't have to walk alone. That was a kind thing to do."
"She's not so big, you know!" he said, trying to sound grown-up.
"No, she isn't. So it was good she had you with her. And you helped her with her doll's carriage. But when she came home, she had a story to tell, and we thought we'd ask you about it, Raymond. I'm talking about what the two of you saw at Serpent Tarn."
Raymond stared at him anxiously and stuck out his lower lip.
"You saw a girl, didn't you?"
"I didn't do it!" he blurted out.
"We don't think you did. That's not why we're here. Let me ask you about something else instead. I see you have a watch."
"Yes, I have a watch." He showed it to them. "It's Papa's old one."
"Do you look at it often?"
"Oh, no, almost never."
"Why not?"
"When I'm at work the boss keeps track of the time. And here at home Papa keeps track."
"Why aren't you at work today?"
"I have a week off and then I work a week."
"I see. Can you tell me what time it is now?"
Raymond looked at his watch. "It's just after 11:10 A.M. "
"That's right. But you don't look at your watch very often, you said?"
"Only when I have to."
Sejer nodded and glanced over at Skarre, who was assiduously taking notes.
"Did you look at it when you took Ragnhild home? Or, for instance, when you were standing by Serpent Tarn?"
"No."
"Can you guess what time it might have been?"
"Now you're asking me hard questions," he said, already tired from thinking so much.
"It's not easy to remember everything, you're right about that. I'm almost finished. Did you see anything else up by the lake—I mean, did you see any people up there?
"Raymond!" one of them called. "We just want to talk. We won't hurt you."
"I wasn't mean to Ragnhild!" he shouted.
"We know that. That's not why we're here. We just need a little help from you."
Still he hesitated, before finally opening the door.
"May we come in?" the taller one said. "We have to ask you a few questions."
"All right. I wasn't sure what you wanted. I can't open the door to just anyone."
"No, you certainly can't," Sejer said, looking around. "But it's good if you open the door when it's the police."
"We'll sit in the living room then."
Raymond walked ahead of them and pointed to the sofa, which looked oddly handmade. An old tartan blanket lay on the seat. They sat down and studied the room, rather small and square, with sofa, table and two chairs. On the walls were paintings of animals and a photograph of an elderly woman with a boy on her lap. Perhaps his mother. The child had the features Sejer associated with Down's syndrome, and the woman's age might have been the reason for Raymond's fate. From where they were sitting, no television set was visible, nor a telephone. Sejer couldn't remember having seen a living room without a TV in years.
"Is your father home?" he began, looking at Raymond's T-shirt. It was white and bore the words: I'M THE ONE WHO DECIDES.
"He's in bed. He doesn't get up any more. He can't walk."
"So you take care of him?"
"I make the food and clean the house, just so you know!"
"Your father's pretty lucky to have you."
Raymond gave a big smile, in that uncommonly charming manner characteristic of people with Down's syndrome. An uncorrupted child in a robust body. He had powerful, broad hands with unusually short fingers and big bulky shoulders.
"You were so nice to Ragnhild yesterday, and you took her home," Sejer said, "so she didn't have to walk alone. That was a kind thing to do."
"She's not so big, you know!" he said, trying to sound grown-up.
"No, she isn't. So it was good she had you with her. And you helped her with her doll's carriage. But when she came home, she had a story to tell, and we thought we'd ask you about it, Raymond. I'm talking about what the two of you saw at Serpent Tarn."
Raymond stared at him anxiously and stuck out his lower lip.
"You saw a girl, didn't you?"
"I didn't do it!" he blurted out.
"We don't think you did. That's not why we're here. Let me ask you about something else instead. I see you have a watch."
"Yes, I have a watch." He showed it to them. "It's Papa's old one."
"Do you look at it often?"
"Oh, no, almost never."
"Why not?"
"When I'm at work the boss keeps track of the time. And here at home Papa keeps track."
"Why aren't you at work today?"
"I have a week off and then I work a week."
"I see. Can you tell me what time it is now?"
Raymond looked at his watch. "It's just after 11:10 A.M. "
"That's right. But you don't look at your watch very often, you said?"
"Only when I have to."
Sejer nodded and glanced over at Skarre, who was assiduously taking notes.
"Did you look at it when you took Ragnhild home? Or, for instance, when you were standing by Serpent Tarn?"
"No."
"Can you guess what time it might have been?"
"Now you're asking me hard questions," he said, already tired from thinking so much.
"It's not easy to remember everything, you're right about that. I'm almost finished. Did you see anything else up by the lake—I mean, did you see any people up there?
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