Erik Lysgaard.
‘… have experienced the loss of someone close, it’s completely different when a crime is involved. Not only has the person been snatched away all of a sudden, but you’re left with so many questions. A crime of this kind …’
I have no idea what kind of crime this is, he thought as he kept talking. Strictly speaking, nothing had been established so far.
‘… is a violation of far more people than the victim. It can squeeze the strength out of anyone. It’s—’
‘Excuse me.’
Erik’s son Lukas Lysgaard opened his mouth for the first time since he had shown Adam into the living room. He seemed tired and looked as if he had been crying, but was quite composed. So far he had stood in silence by the far window looking out over the garden. Now he frowned and moved a little closer.
‘I don’t really think my father needs consolation. Not from you, anyway, with respect. We would prefer to be alone. When we agreed to this interview …’
He quickly corrected himself.
‘… to this conversation, which is
not
an interview, it was, of course, because we would like to help the police as much as we can. Given the circumstances. As you know I am willing to be interviewed by the police as soon as you wish, but when it comes to my father …’
Erik Lysgaard straightened up noticeably in his armchair. He stretched his back, blinked hard and raised his chin.
‘What is it you want to know?’ he asked, looking Adam straight in the eye.
Idiot, Adam thought about himself.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Of course I should have left you both in peace. It’s just that … For once we haven’t got the media hot on our heels. For once it’s possible to get a little ahead of the pack out there.’
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as if there were already a horde of journalists on the front step.
‘But I should have known better. I’ll leave you alone today. Of course.’
He stood up and took his coat from the back of one of the dining chairs. Erik Lysgaard looked at him in surprise, his mouth half-open and a furrow in his forehead, just above the thick glasses with their heavy, black frames.
‘Haven’t you got any questions?’ he asked, his tone gentle.
‘Yes. Countless questions. But as I said, they can wait. Could I possibly use your bathroom before I leave?’
He directed this request to Lukas.
‘Along the hallway. Second on the left,’ he mumbled.
Adam nodded briefly to Erik Lysgaard and headed for the door. Halfway across the room he turned back.
Hesitated.
‘Just one thing,’ he said, scratching his cheek. ‘Could I ask why Bishop Lysgaard was out on her own at eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve?’
An odd silence filled the room.
Lukas looked at his father, but there wasn’t really any kind of enquiry in his eyes. Just a wary, expressionless look, as if he either knew the answer or thought the question was of no interest. Erik Lysgaard, however, placed his hands on the arms of the chair, leaned back and took a deep breath before looking Adam in the eye once more.
‘That’s nothing to do with you.’
‘What?’ Somewhat inappropriately, Adam started to laugh. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said that’s nothing to do with you.’
‘Right. Well, I think we’ll have to …’
Silence fell once more.
‘We can talk about this later,’ he added eventually, raising a hand in Erik’s direction as he left the room.
The surprising and absurd answer had made him forget for a moment how much he needed the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him he could feel that it was urgent.
Along the hallway, second on the right.
He mumbled to himself, placed his hand on the knob and opened the door.
A bedroom. Not large, maybe ten square metres. Rectangular, with the window on the short wall facing the door. Under the window stood a neatly made single bed with lilac bed linen. On the pillow lay a folded item of clothing. A nightdress, Adam assumed, inhaling deeply through
‘… have experienced the loss of someone close, it’s completely different when a crime is involved. Not only has the person been snatched away all of a sudden, but you’re left with so many questions. A crime of this kind …’
I have no idea what kind of crime this is, he thought as he kept talking. Strictly speaking, nothing had been established so far.
‘… is a violation of far more people than the victim. It can squeeze the strength out of anyone. It’s—’
‘Excuse me.’
Erik’s son Lukas Lysgaard opened his mouth for the first time since he had shown Adam into the living room. He seemed tired and looked as if he had been crying, but was quite composed. So far he had stood in silence by the far window looking out over the garden. Now he frowned and moved a little closer.
‘I don’t really think my father needs consolation. Not from you, anyway, with respect. We would prefer to be alone. When we agreed to this interview …’
He quickly corrected himself.
‘… to this conversation, which is
not
an interview, it was, of course, because we would like to help the police as much as we can. Given the circumstances. As you know I am willing to be interviewed by the police as soon as you wish, but when it comes to my father …’
Erik Lysgaard straightened up noticeably in his armchair. He stretched his back, blinked hard and raised his chin.
‘What is it you want to know?’ he asked, looking Adam straight in the eye.
Idiot, Adam thought about himself.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Of course I should have left you both in peace. It’s just that … For once we haven’t got the media hot on our heels. For once it’s possible to get a little ahead of the pack out there.’
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as if there were already a horde of journalists on the front step.
‘But I should have known better. I’ll leave you alone today. Of course.’
He stood up and took his coat from the back of one of the dining chairs. Erik Lysgaard looked at him in surprise, his mouth half-open and a furrow in his forehead, just above the thick glasses with their heavy, black frames.
‘Haven’t you got any questions?’ he asked, his tone gentle.
‘Yes. Countless questions. But as I said, they can wait. Could I possibly use your bathroom before I leave?’
He directed this request to Lukas.
‘Along the hallway. Second on the left,’ he mumbled.
Adam nodded briefly to Erik Lysgaard and headed for the door. Halfway across the room he turned back.
Hesitated.
‘Just one thing,’ he said, scratching his cheek. ‘Could I ask why Bishop Lysgaard was out on her own at eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve?’
An odd silence filled the room.
Lukas looked at his father, but there wasn’t really any kind of enquiry in his eyes. Just a wary, expressionless look, as if he either knew the answer or thought the question was of no interest. Erik Lysgaard, however, placed his hands on the arms of the chair, leaned back and took a deep breath before looking Adam in the eye once more.
‘That’s nothing to do with you.’
‘What?’ Somewhat inappropriately, Adam started to laugh. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said that’s nothing to do with you.’
‘Right. Well, I think we’ll have to …’
Silence fell once more.
‘We can talk about this later,’ he added eventually, raising a hand in Erik’s direction as he left the room.
The surprising and absurd answer had made him forget for a moment how much he needed the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him he could feel that it was urgent.
Along the hallway, second on the right.
He mumbled to himself, placed his hand on the knob and opened the door.
A bedroom. Not large, maybe ten square metres. Rectangular, with the window on the short wall facing the door. Under the window stood a neatly made single bed with lilac bed linen. On the pillow lay a folded item of clothing. A nightdress, Adam assumed, inhaling deeply through
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