'So much for the clean-up then,' Halvorsen said. Harry turned and saw his colleague pointing to wet, brown footprints running diagonally across the floor.
They took off their shoes in the hallway, found a floor cloth in the kitchen and after wiping the floor, agreed Halvorsen should take the living room while Harry took the bedrooms and the bathroom.
What Harry knew about house searches he had learned in a hot classroom at Police College one Friday after lunch when everyone was dying to go home, have a shower and hit the town. There was no manual, only a certain Inspector Rřkke. And on this Friday he had given Harry the one tip he had later used as his sole guide: 'Don't think about what you are searching for. Think about what you find. Why is that there? Should it be there? What does it mean? It's like reading–if you think about an "l" while looking at a "k", you won't see the words.'
The first thing Harry saw when he came into the first bedroom was the large double bed and the photograph of herr and fru Albu on the bedside table. It wasn't large, but it was conspicuous because it was the only photograph and faced the door.
Harry opened a wardrobe. The smell of another person's clothes hit him. There was no casual clothing, only evening dresses, blouses and a couple of suits. Plus a pair of studded golf shoes.
Harry went through all three wardrobes systematically. He had been a detective for too long to feel embarrassment at going through other people's personal effects.
He sat down on the bed and studied the photograph. The background was only sea and sky, but the way the light fell made Harry think it must have been taken in southern climes. Arne Albu was brown and there was the same boyish mischievousness in his expression Harry had seen in the restaurant in Aker Brygge. He had a firm grip around his wife's waist. So firm that Vigdis's upper body seemed to be leaning towards him.
Harry rolled the bedspread and duvet to the side. If Anna had been in this bed they would definitely find hair, fragments of skin, saliva or sexual secretions. All of them, probably. But it was as he thought. He ran a hand over the starched sheet and put his face to the pillow and breathed in. Just washed. Fuck.
He opened the drawer of the bedside table. A packet of Extra chewing gum, an unopened packet of Paralgin, a keyring with a key and a brass plate with the initials A.A. on, a photograph of a naked baby curled up like a larva on a changing table, and a Swiss army knife.
He was about to pick up the knife when he heard the single, chilling scream of a gull. Involuntarily he shivered and glanced through the window. The gull was gone. He went back to his search when he heard the sharp barking of a dog.
At that moment Halvorsen appeared in the doorway: 'Someone coming up the pathway.'
His heart pounded as if turbo-charged.
'I'll get the shoes,' Harry said. 'You bring the case with all the equipment in here.'
'But—'
'We'll jump out of the window when they're in. Quick!'
The barking outside increased in volume and intensity. Harry sprinted across the living room to the hall while Halvorsen knelt in front of the shelves and threw powder, brush and sticky paper into the case. The barking was now so close that Harry could hear the deep-throated growls between the barks. Footsteps outside. The door was not locked, it was too late to do anything, he would be caught red-handed! He breathed in and stood where he was. He might just as well face the music there and then. Perhaps Halvorsen would be able to escape. That way, he wouldn't have Halvorsen's dismissal on his conscience.
'Gregor!' came a man's shout from the other side of the door. 'Come back!'
The barking became more distant and he heard the man outside move off the doorstep.
'Gregor! Leave the deer alone!'
Harry took two steps forward and discreetly turned the lock. Then he picked up the two pairs of shoes and crept through the living room as keys were being jangled outside. He closed the bedroom door behind him as he heard the front door opening.
Halvorsen was sitting on the floor under the window and staring at Harry with dilated eyes.
'What is it?' Harry whispered.
'I was on my way out of the window when the mad dog came,' Halvorsen whispered. 'It's a large Rottweiler.'
Harry peered out of the window and down at snapping jaws. The dog had both front paws against the outside wall. The sight of Harry made it jump up the wall and bark as though possessed. Saliva dripped from its fangs. The sound of heavy footsteps in the living room. Harry slumped down on the floor next to Halvorsen.
'Seventy kilos max,' he whispered. 'No big deal.'
'Please. I've seen a Rottweiler attacking Victor, the dog handler.'