Somewhere far off, children were laughing.
A thin lady with her hair pulled back in a tight, grey bun peeked out from behind the window curtains before they reached the door. Wisting knocked and heard her move slowly on the inside before a key was turned. A little, wrinkled face appeared at the crack in the door, with small eyes that lay in deep hollows.
‘Yes?’
A seam of wrinkles appeared around her narrow lips. Wisting could actually hear that her mouth was dry, she had such difficulty speaking.
In a raised voice he explained who they were and gave the old woman a grateful nod as she waved them in. She was hunchbacked and supported herself with difficulty on the furniture as she led with small steps into a light and spacious living room with a view over the fjord.
‘Coffee?’ she asked, supporting herself on the backrest of a chair.
Wisting declined and sat beside the coffee table. The furniture in the house was old and faded, but smelled clean and pleasant. Torunn Borg took out a notebook and sat in a chair beside him.
‘We have some questions for you about Camilla,’ he said. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
The woman’s blue, bloodless lips trembled as she sat painfully down. ‘My body is full of aches and pains,’ she explained. ‘I’m not young any longer, but there’s nothing wrong with my head all the same.’
Wisting smiled.
‘She’s gone,’ the old woman continued. ‘That’s something I’m not muddled about.’
‘She’s gone,’ Wisting agreed. ‘We’ll try to find her.’
The old woman mumbled her thanks, smoothing the pleats in her skirt.
‘When did you last talk to her?’
‘Yesterday,’ the woman sighed. ‘She was going to work.’
‘When did she leave?’
‘Just before two o’clock.’ She cleared her throat. ‘She doesn’t usually leave before about half past three. The evening shift doesn’t start until four, but there was something she wanted to do. We like to eat together before she leaves, but yesterday we only managed a cup of coffee.’
Wisting glanced over at Torunn Borg. Any irregularity in the daily routine was important to understand. ‘What was it she wanted to do?’
The old woman closed her eyes for a short time, thinking carefully. ‘She usually tells me everything,’ she said, opening her eyes again. ‘But not about men.’
Wisting wanted to ask a question, but stayed silent, waiting for her to continue at her own pace.
‘Five years ago she had a beau,’ the old lady went on. ‘Then she became secretive. Didn’t say where she was going or what she was doing. But I didn’t think it would happen again. She was burned.’
‘How was that?’
‘I don’t know what happened. She loaned him money that never came back. That was all he was after. Money.’ She moistened her lips with her tongue. ‘She was burned,’ she repeated. ‘Swindled.’
‘How much money?’
The old woman swallowed. ‘She never talked about it, but I think it was everything she had.’
Torunn Borg straightened herself up in the chair. ‘Do you know his name?’ she enquired.
‘Gunnar Moland, I think. I have it written down somewhere. He said he was a medical intern, but that wasn’t true.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘But that was long ago. She has got over it.’
‘Did she have a new man?’
The old woman looked down at her lap and she clasped her wrinkled hands. ‘Who knows,’ was her mumbled response. ‘She used to have a pen pal, but what she has now I don’t know.’
‘Pen pal?’
‘It was a few years ago, when people still wrote letters. A letter with sloping handwriting arrived every other week. Then that came to an end too.’
‘You don’t know who they were from?’
‘No. We didn’t talk about such things. I think she met him a few times as well. She drove off early in the morning and was back in the evening. He must live a distance away, but not so far that she had to stay overnight.’
Wisting rose from his seat. ‘Can I look
A thin lady with her hair pulled back in a tight, grey bun peeked out from behind the window curtains before they reached the door. Wisting knocked and heard her move slowly on the inside before a key was turned. A little, wrinkled face appeared at the crack in the door, with small eyes that lay in deep hollows.
‘Yes?’
A seam of wrinkles appeared around her narrow lips. Wisting could actually hear that her mouth was dry, she had such difficulty speaking.
In a raised voice he explained who they were and gave the old woman a grateful nod as she waved them in. She was hunchbacked and supported herself with difficulty on the furniture as she led with small steps into a light and spacious living room with a view over the fjord.
‘Coffee?’ she asked, supporting herself on the backrest of a chair.
Wisting declined and sat beside the coffee table. The furniture in the house was old and faded, but smelled clean and pleasant. Torunn Borg took out a notebook and sat in a chair beside him.
‘We have some questions for you about Camilla,’ he said. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
The woman’s blue, bloodless lips trembled as she sat painfully down. ‘My body is full of aches and pains,’ she explained. ‘I’m not young any longer, but there’s nothing wrong with my head all the same.’
Wisting smiled.
‘She’s gone,’ the old woman continued. ‘That’s something I’m not muddled about.’
‘She’s gone,’ Wisting agreed. ‘We’ll try to find her.’
The old woman mumbled her thanks, smoothing the pleats in her skirt.
‘When did you last talk to her?’
‘Yesterday,’ the woman sighed. ‘She was going to work.’
‘When did she leave?’
‘Just before two o’clock.’ She cleared her throat. ‘She doesn’t usually leave before about half past three. The evening shift doesn’t start until four, but there was something she wanted to do. We like to eat together before she leaves, but yesterday we only managed a cup of coffee.’
Wisting glanced over at Torunn Borg. Any irregularity in the daily routine was important to understand. ‘What was it she wanted to do?’
The old woman closed her eyes for a short time, thinking carefully. ‘She usually tells me everything,’ she said, opening her eyes again. ‘But not about men.’
Wisting wanted to ask a question, but stayed silent, waiting for her to continue at her own pace.
‘Five years ago she had a beau,’ the old lady went on. ‘Then she became secretive. Didn’t say where she was going or what she was doing. But I didn’t think it would happen again. She was burned.’
‘How was that?’
‘I don’t know what happened. She loaned him money that never came back. That was all he was after. Money.’ She moistened her lips with her tongue. ‘She was burned,’ she repeated. ‘Swindled.’
‘How much money?’
The old woman swallowed. ‘She never talked about it, but I think it was everything she had.’
Torunn Borg straightened herself up in the chair. ‘Do you know his name?’ she enquired.
‘Gunnar Moland, I think. I have it written down somewhere. He said he was a medical intern, but that wasn’t true.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘But that was long ago. She has got over it.’
‘Did she have a new man?’
The old woman looked down at her lap and she clasped her wrinkled hands. ‘Who knows,’ was her mumbled response. ‘She used to have a pen pal, but what she has now I don’t know.’
‘Pen pal?’
‘It was a few years ago, when people still wrote letters. A letter with sloping handwriting arrived every other week. Then that came to an end too.’
‘You don’t know who they were from?’
‘No. We didn’t talk about such things. I think she met him a few times as well. She drove off early in the morning and was back in the evening. He must live a distance away, but not so far that she had to stay overnight.’
Wisting rose from his seat. ‘Can I look
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