"That's tough, all right. That means you're well on your way. I think you're actually looking a little older already."
Sejer led the way into the living room.
"The blood starts to stagnate in the veins. Nothing smells or tastes the way it should. Malnutrition also becomes apparent. It's not so strange that we die when we get old."
This made Sejer chuckle. Then he thought about his mother in the hospital and stopped.
"How old is she?"
"She's 83. And she's obviously not all there." He pointed to his own close-cropped head. "I think it would be better if we died a little earlier. Maybe at about the age of 70."
"I don't think many 70-year-olds would agree with you," Sejer said. "Do you want a Farris?"
"OK, thanks."
Skarre ran his hand over his head, as if to check to see if the new haircut was real.
"You certainly have a lot of CDs, Konrad." He was staring at the shelf next to the stereo. "Have you counted them?"
"Approximately 500," Sejer shouted from the kitchen.
Skarre jumped up from his chair to study the titles. Like most people, he thought that musical taste said a lot about who a person was, deep inside.
"Laila Dalseth. Etta James. Billie Holiday. Edith Piaf. My God," he stared with astonishment, smiling. "They're all women!" he exclaimed.
"One of the best. But you're too young to know that."
Skarre sat back down, drank his Farris, and wiped the bottom of his glass on his pants leg. "What did Holland say?"
Sejer pulled his tobacco pouch out from under the newspaper and opened it. He took out a paper and began to roll a cigarette.
"Jesus!" exclaimed Skarre in surprise. "You smoke!"
"Only one a day, in the evening. He told me that Annie knew that Jensvoll had been in prison. Maybe she knew why."
"Go on."
"And one of the children she often baby-sat for died in an accident."
Skarre fumbled for his own cigarettes.
"It happened in November, at about the same time everything got so difficult. Annie didn't want to go over there any more. She refused to take them flowers, she wouldn't go to the funeral, and she didn't want to baby-sit any more. Holland didn't think it was strange, since she was only 14, and wasn't old enough to handle death."
He looked at Skarre as he talked and noticed how his expression grew more alert. "After that she left the handball team, temporarily broke up with Halvor, and withdrew into herself. So it happened in that order. The child died. Annie withdrew from everyone around her."
Skarre lit a match and watched as Sejer licked the paper of the cigarette he had rolled.
"The child's death was apparently a tragic accident – the boy was only two – and I can understand why a teenager would be shaken by that kind of experience. She knew him well. And she knew his parents. But..."
He stopped to light up.
"So that's the reason for the change in her?"
"Possibly. But she also had cancer. Even though she may not have known about it herself, it could have changed her. But I was hoping to find something else. Something we could use."
"What about Jensvoll?"
"I have a hard time believing that a man would commit murder just to guarantee silence about a rape that took place eleven years ago, and which he's done time for. Unless it's a matter of his having tried it again. And the whole thing went wrong... Do you have time to take a drive?"
"Of course. Where are we going?"
"To Lundeby Church." He took a deep drag on his cigarette and held it for a long time.
"Why there?"
"I'm not sure. I like to snoop around; that's the only reason."
"Maybe you think better out of doors?" Skarre scraped at a patch of candle wax on the sandblasted table.
"I've always thought that a person's surroundings affected how they think, that you understand more about something if you go to the actual scene. If you have a sort of awareness inside, an awareness of objects. For 'what objects have to say'."
"Fascinating theory," Skarre said. "Do you dare mention it out loud at headquarters?"
"We have a kind of silent agreement not to. The district prosecutor isn't interested in my beliefs. He knows they're there, of course, and he does take them into consideration, though he would never admit it. Another silent agreement."
Sejer exhaled the smoke reverently and looked up.
"What else did Halvor's grandmother give you? Aside from the