'Wrong in what way?'
'They…they're too close.'
'Bravo, Harry!'
He opened his eyes. Amoeba-like specks sparkled and floated across his field of vision.
'Bravo?' he mumbled. 'What do you mean?'
'You've put words to what we've seen the whole time. You're absolutely correct, Harry. They're standing too close to each other.'
'Yes, I heard myself say that, but too close in relation to what?'
'In relation to how close two people who have never met should stand.'
'Eh?'
'Have you heard of Edward Hall?'
'Not exactly.'
'Anthropologist. He was the first to demonstrate the link between the distance people keep between each other and the relationship they have. It's fairly well documented.'
'Explain.'
'The social space between people who don't know each other is from one to three and a half metres. That's the distance you would keep if the situation allowed, but look at bus queues and toilets. In Tokyo people stand closer to each and feel comfortable, but variations from culture to culture are in fact relatively minor.'
'He can't whisper to her from more than a metre away, can he.'
'No, but he could easily have managed it within what is known as the personal space, which is from one metre to forty-five centimetres. That's the distance people keep with strangers and so-called acquaintances. But as you see, the Expeditor and Stine Grette break this boundary. I've measured the distance. It's twenty centimetres. That means they're well inside the intimate space. Then you're so close to the other person you can't keep the other person's face in focus or avoid their aroma and body heat. It's a space reserved for partners or close family.'
'Mm,' Harry said. 'I'm impressed by your knowledge, but these two people are involved in high drama.'
'Yes, but that's what's so fascinating!' Beate burst out, holding on to the arm of the chair so that she wouldn't take off. 'If they're not supposed to, people don't cross the boundaries that Edward Hall talks about. And the Expeditor and Stine Grette are not supposed to.'
Harry rubbed his chin. 'OK, let's follow that line of thought.'
'I think the Expeditor knew Stine Grette,' Beate said. 'Well.'
'Good, good.' Harry rested his face on his hands and spoke through his fingers. 'So Stine knew a professional bank robber who performs a perfect heist before shooting her. You know where this reasoning is taking us, don't you.'
Beate nodded. 'I'll see what we can find out about Stine Grette right away.'
'Great. And afterwards let's have a chat with someone who's frequently been inside her intimate space.'
18
A Wonderful Day
'THIS PLACE GIVES ME THE CREEPS,' BEATE SAID.
'They had a famous patient here called Arnold Juklerřd,' Harry said. 'He said this place was the brain of the sick beast known as psychiatry. So you didn't find anything about Stine Grette?'
'No. Unblemished record, and her bank accounts don't suggest financial irregularities. No shopping sprees in clothes shops or at restaurants. No payments to Bjerke trotting stadium or any other symptoms of gambling. The only extravagance I could turn up was a trip to Săo Paulo this summer.'
'And her husband?'
'Exactly the same. Solid and sober.'
They passed under the gateway to Gaustad hospital and came into a square surrounded by large red-brick buildings.
'Reminiscent of a prison,' Beate said.
'Heinrich Schirmer,' Harry said. 'Nineteenth-century German architect. Also designed Botsen prison.'
A carer came to pick them up from reception. He had dyed black hair and looked as though he should be playing in a band or doing design work. Which, in fact, he did.
'Trond Grette has mostly been sitting and staring out of the window,' he said as they trotted down the corridor to section G2.
'Is he ready to speak?' Harry asked.
'Yes, he can talk alright…' The carer had paid six hundred kroner to have his black hair look unkempt, and now he was adjusting one of the tufts and blinking at Harry through a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses, which made him look like a nerd, in exactly the right way, that is, so that the cognoscenti could see he wasn't a nerd but hip.
'My colleague is wondering if Grette is well enough to talk about his wife,' Beate said.
'You'll find out,' said the carer and put the tuft of hair back in front of his glasses. 'If he gets psychotic again, he's not ready.'
Harry didn't ask how they could tell when a person was psychotic. They came to the end of the corridor and the carer unlocked a door with a circular window.
'Does he have to be locked in?' Beate asked, looking around the bright reception room.