Read Online The Man in the Window by K. O. Dahl - Free Book Online Page B

merits…'
        Gunnarstranda nodded. 'What about books?'
        'No.'
        'I saw Thackeray on one of the shelves we were passing.'
        Jespersen indulged himself in a little gesture. 'You saw them? That was observant. Yes, indeed,' he nodded. 'But the books in this house are Ingrid's. She's fond of reading. In general, though, we do not deal with books… there is no money in them - for us at least. We're not running an antiquarian bookshop.'
        'How do you acquire your objects?'
        'Buying job lots, auctions… importing… well… brokering might be a more precise term. We're in the upmarket sector.'
        'And that is?'
        'What?' Jespersen said, puzzled.
        'What is the upmarket sector?'
        'Could be anything, in fact. We are just as likely to stock goods from England or Germany as from
        Gudbrandsdalen.'
        'What about exports?'
        'Nothing.'
        'How old was your father?'
        'Seventy-nine. He would have been eighty in March.'
        'And he enjoyed rude health?'
        'Oh yes - like a man of fifty, working every day.'
        'Fit man.'
        Karsten Jespersen pursed his lips in a sardonic grimace. 'You could say that.'
        'Had he any plans for slowing down?'
        'No.'
        The answer was forthright. Without qualification. The two policemen exchanged glances.
        'A family business?'
        'You could say that.'
        'Is his death a loss to the operation?'
        'Of course.'
        'Who buys the goods for the shop? You? Your father?'
        'I do.'
        'You alone?'
        Karsten Jespersen inclined his head and added: 'It goes without saying that he was involved in the buying, but he always consulted me. By and large, I get on well with customers. That was more or less how we divided the work.'
        'What sort of man was your father?'
        Jespersen raised his head and sent him a quizzical look.
        Gunnarstranda gestured with his hands: 'Was he a kind man? A firm man? Someone with enemies?' 'Of course not.'
        'Did he have any enemies?'
        'None that I can think of, offhand.'
        'Anyone at loggerheads with your father?'
        'Several people - even I was at loggerheads with him in a way.'
        'How?'
        'It was his nature. You know, the type who always wanted the last word.'
        'In private too?'
        'In private and in business.'
        'What's your position now? Will you take over?'
        'I would assume so - the shop is a limited company, and so from an administrative point of view the settlement of a deceased's estate has less significance.' He coughed. 'But I'm the only person who can run the shop - who can run it,' he mumbled, repeating himself and gazing into the air, lost in thought.
        'What did you think about your father not wanting to retire?'
        'You're wondering if he didn't have full confidence in me?' Karsten forced a wry grin.
        Gunnarstranda did not answer.
        'You could look at it like that,' the other man said. 'Part of the picture has to do with me. I'm tied to the business - but I also have a sideline to take care of…' He coughed with embarrassment. 'I'm trying to do a bit of writing - freelance - and that takes time.'
        'Freelance?'
        'I write small articles for weeklies… now and then I try my hand at short stories, too. That sort of thing requires time and dedication.'
        'Do you write under your own name?'
        'Yes, I do.'
        'So you were happy that your father was still going strong and didn't retire?'
        Jespersen sighed. 'What can I say? Of course he made a valuable contribution, but I suppose he should have done something else.' He hesitated. 'People in their latter years should - rest, enjoy life in other ways - but not him; I think he was happy, I mean… he enjoyed rude health, as you put it.'
        Gunnarstranda nodded his head