puncture it took him perhaps twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, to get down to Ullevålseter. He hadn’t checked the time again until he was at Sognsvann, when he noticed it was 6.15.
– And how did she seem? I mean, her mood.
Axel held the receiver well away from his ear.
– Nothing special. Just the usual good mood.
He knew what the policewoman was angling for, but he found it hard to believe that Hilde Paulsen’s disappearance had anything to do with her state of mind. A woman in a tracksuit, with walking poles. She’d stopped to discuss a patient with him. An old man with back pain was what was on her mind at that particular juncture. Not suicide.
12
Monday 1 October
R ITA POURED COFFEE for them.
– She was going for a walk in the Nordmarka, she said as she sliced the macaroon cake she’d baked over the weekend. – And since then there’s been no sign of her.
Every Friday, and some Mondays, Rita served up a treat for lunch. On more than one occasion Inger Beate had taken Axel aside and asked how they could talk to her about it without hurting her feelings, because they couldn’t sit there forever stuffing themselves with cake. Axel had a good laugh at her worries and said it was up to each individual how to deal with that particular dilemma.
– Do any of you know who she is?
– Should we? asked Inger Beate, her mouth full of salad. Axel knew there was a case she wanted to discuss with him, but she wouldn’t bring it up as long as the student was sitting there. He’d have to call in and talk to her later in the day.
– You know her, both of you.
Inger Beate glanced over at Axel; he was looking the other way.
– About time you told us, Rita, she said, irritated.
– Hilde Paulsen, that physio from Majorstua.
– Really! exclaimed Inger Beate.
Rita held up the plate of macaroon cake and looked from one to the other.
– The police think she’s been murdered.
Axel turned abruptly to her.
– How do you know that?
– A friend of mine. Her daughter’s a journalist, works for VG . They know all that kind of thing there. The police seem to think that Hilde Paulsen met someone while she was out walking, or else someone was waiting for her up in the forest.
She shivered as she said it and nearly dropped the cake plate on to the table.
About four o’clock, Miriam knocked on Axel’s door.
– I’ve written up the journal notes.
He didn’t look up.
– The woman who was knocked down from behind, she reminded him. – Question of whiplash.
– I’ll have a look at it before I leave.
She didn’t move.
– You seem very preoccupied today.
He brushed the hair away from his forehead. Only now did he raise his eyes and look at her.
– Come in and sit down, he said finally.
She closed the door behind her.
– I’m sorry if you … he began. – What we were talking about on Wednesday.
Her eyes were bigger than he had remembered them, or was it just the make-up that created that effect. She was wearing a T-shirt under her doctor’s coat with big glitter-coated lettering across the chest.
– Is that some secret message on your top? he said, smiling.
She blushed and pulled the coat closed.
– Got it from a friend on my birthday. I didn’t have anything else clean.
– Let me see, he said.
Reluctantly she opened her coat. His gaze moved across the twisting letters.
– M-i-r-i-a-m, he read. – Today’s a good day, Miriam. For a cup of coffee, I mean.
Sitting in the back of the taxi he said:
– You’re right, I do have a lot on my mind today.
He leaned back into the soft seat.
– That missing woman. I met her the day she disappeared. Maybe I’m the last person to see her alive.
He didn’t say any more about it. Not until he was seated on the sofa in her apartment. Beyond the living room was a kitchenette, and in one corner an alcove where he presumed her bed was. While she laid out the cups and saucers, he told her about the meeting with the missing
– And how did she seem? I mean, her mood.
Axel held the receiver well away from his ear.
– Nothing special. Just the usual good mood.
He knew what the policewoman was angling for, but he found it hard to believe that Hilde Paulsen’s disappearance had anything to do with her state of mind. A woman in a tracksuit, with walking poles. She’d stopped to discuss a patient with him. An old man with back pain was what was on her mind at that particular juncture. Not suicide.
12
Monday 1 October
R ITA POURED COFFEE for them.
– She was going for a walk in the Nordmarka, she said as she sliced the macaroon cake she’d baked over the weekend. – And since then there’s been no sign of her.
Every Friday, and some Mondays, Rita served up a treat for lunch. On more than one occasion Inger Beate had taken Axel aside and asked how they could talk to her about it without hurting her feelings, because they couldn’t sit there forever stuffing themselves with cake. Axel had a good laugh at her worries and said it was up to each individual how to deal with that particular dilemma.
– Do any of you know who she is?
– Should we? asked Inger Beate, her mouth full of salad. Axel knew there was a case she wanted to discuss with him, but she wouldn’t bring it up as long as the student was sitting there. He’d have to call in and talk to her later in the day.
– You know her, both of you.
Inger Beate glanced over at Axel; he was looking the other way.
– About time you told us, Rita, she said, irritated.
– Hilde Paulsen, that physio from Majorstua.
– Really! exclaimed Inger Beate.
Rita held up the plate of macaroon cake and looked from one to the other.
– The police think she’s been murdered.
Axel turned abruptly to her.
– How do you know that?
– A friend of mine. Her daughter’s a journalist, works for VG . They know all that kind of thing there. The police seem to think that Hilde Paulsen met someone while she was out walking, or else someone was waiting for her up in the forest.
She shivered as she said it and nearly dropped the cake plate on to the table.
About four o’clock, Miriam knocked on Axel’s door.
– I’ve written up the journal notes.
He didn’t look up.
– The woman who was knocked down from behind, she reminded him. – Question of whiplash.
– I’ll have a look at it before I leave.
She didn’t move.
– You seem very preoccupied today.
He brushed the hair away from his forehead. Only now did he raise his eyes and look at her.
– Come in and sit down, he said finally.
She closed the door behind her.
– I’m sorry if you … he began. – What we were talking about on Wednesday.
Her eyes were bigger than he had remembered them, or was it just the make-up that created that effect. She was wearing a T-shirt under her doctor’s coat with big glitter-coated lettering across the chest.
– Is that some secret message on your top? he said, smiling.
She blushed and pulled the coat closed.
– Got it from a friend on my birthday. I didn’t have anything else clean.
– Let me see, he said.
Reluctantly she opened her coat. His gaze moved across the twisting letters.
– M-i-r-i-a-m, he read. – Today’s a good day, Miriam. For a cup of coffee, I mean.
Sitting in the back of the taxi he said:
– You’re right, I do have a lot on my mind today.
He leaned back into the soft seat.
– That missing woman. I met her the day she disappeared. Maybe I’m the last person to see her alive.
He didn’t say any more about it. Not until he was seated on the sofa in her apartment. Beyond the living room was a kitchenette, and in one corner an alcove where he presumed her bed was. While she laid out the cups and saucers, he told her about the meeting with the missing
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