Jensvoll nodded. "I just have to close the door to the laundry room." He waved them inside, disappeared for a moment, and returned at once. He cast a worried glance at Skarre, who was fishing a notebook out of his jacket. Jensvoll was older than they had expected, maybe even close to 50, and thickset. But his weight was well distributed; his body was firm and muscular, healthy and well-nourished, with good colour in his face, a thick mane of red hair, and an elegant, neatly trimmed moustache.
"I take it this has something to do with Annie?" he said.
Sejer nodded.
"I have never been so shocked in my life. I knew her well, so I think I have good reason to say that. But it's been a while since she left the team. That was a tragedy, by the way, because no one could replace her. Now we've got a real dunce out there who tends to duck when the ball comes towards her. But at least she fills up half the width of the goal."
He stopped his babbling and blushed a little.
"Yes, it's a real tragedy," Sejer said, somewhat more acidly than he had intended. "Has it been a long time since you last saw her?"
"As I said, she left the team. That was last autumn. In November, I think." He looked Sejer in the eye.
"Excuse me, but that sounds a little odd. She lived only a few hundred metres up the hill, didn't she?"
"Yes, no, well, I probably drove past her now and then. I thought you meant since I last had anything to do with her. In a proper sense, at practice. But I've seen her since then, of course. Downtown, maybe at the grocery shop."
"Then let me put the question this way: When did you last see Annie?"
Jensvoll had to think about it. "I don't know if I can remember. It must have been a while ago."
"We have plenty of time."
"Two or three weeks ago, maybe. At the post office, I think."
"Did you talk to her?"
"Just said hello. She wasn't particularly talkative of late."
"Why did Annie stop being a goalkeeper?"
"If only I knew." He shrugged. "I'm afraid I pressured her hard to change her mind, but it didn't do any good. She was fed up with it. Well, I don't really believe that, but that's what she said. Wanted to run instead, she said. And that's what she did, all right – day and night. I often drove past her on the plateau. Running full speed, long legs, expensive trainers. Holland spared no expense when it came to that girl."
He was still waiting for them to drag the skeleton out of the closet; he had no hope that it would be avoided.
"Do you live alone here?"
"I was divorced a while ago. My wife took the children and left, so now I'm on my own, and I like it this way. Don't have a lot of time to spare after I finish my job and sports practice. I coach a boys' team too, and I play on the Old Boys team. I'm in and out of the shower half the day."
"You didn't believe her when she said she was tired of it – so what do you think the real reason was?"
"I have no idea. But she had a boyfriend, and those kinds of things take up time. He wasn't especially athletic, by the way, a pipe-cleaner with skinny legs. Pale and slight, like a lima bean. He came to the matches once in a while, sat like a lump on the bench and never said a word. Just watched the ball going back and forth, back and forth. When they left, he wasn't even allowed to carry her bag. He wasn't the right type for her; she was a lot tougher than that."
"They were still together."
"Is that right? Well, each to his own."
Sejer nodded and kept his thoughts to himself. "I'm required to ask you this question. Where were you last Monday between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m.?"
"On Monday? You mean ... on that day? At work, of course."
"And this can be confirmed by the warehouse?"
"I'm out driving a lot. We have home delivery, you see."
"So you were in your vehicle? Alone?"
"Part of the time I was in my truck. I delivered two wardrobes to a house on Rødtangen – that much, at least, they can confirm."