The Redbreast(78)

Her smile widened. The woman seemed to be

about thirty and was wearing a black coat of the

plain, effortlessly elegant kind which Harry knew

cost an arm and a leg.

‘I was on my way out,’ the woman said. ‘Are you

coming here?’

‘I think so. Sindre Fauke?’

‘Almost,’ she said. ‘But you’re a few months late.

My father has moved into town.’

Harry went closer and could see she was

attractive. And there was something about the

relaxed way she spoke, the way she looked him

straight in the eye, that suggested that she was also

self-assured. A professional woman, he guessed.

Something requiring a cool, rational mind. Estate

agent, head of a department in a bank, politician or

something like that. Well-off at any rate, of that he

was fairly sure. It wasn’t just the coat and the

colossal house behind her, but something in the

attitude and the high, aristocratic cheekbones. She

walked down the steps as if walking along a

straight line, made it seem easy. Ballet lessons,

Harry thought.

‘Is there anything I can help with?’

The consonants were clearly articulated, the

intonation with the stress on ‘I’ so over-distinct

that it was almost theatrical.

‘I’m from the police.’ He started to search

through his jacket pockets for his ID card, but she

dismissed it with a wave.

‘Yes, well, I would have liked to have a chat

with your father.’

To his irritation, Harry noticed that his intonation

involuntarily became rather more formal than it

usually was.

‘Why is that?’

‘We’re looking for someone. And I was hoping

your father might be able to help.’

‘Who are you looking for?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t say.’

‘OK.’ She nodded as if it had been a test Harry

had just passed. ‘But if you’re telling me he

doesn’t live here . . .’ Harry said, shading his eyes.

She had slim hands. Piano lessons, Harry thought.

And she had laughter wrinkles around her eyes.

Perhaps she was over thirty after all?

‘He doesn’t,’ she said. ‘He’s moved to

Majorstuen. Vibes gate 18.You’ll find him either

there or in the University Library, I imagine.’

University Library. She articulated it so clearly

that not a syllable went to waste.

‘Vibes gate 18. I see.’

‘Good.’

‘Yes.’

Harry nodded. And kept nodding. Like a dog. She

smiled with compressed lips and raised both

eyebrows as if to say that was that, if there were

no more questions the meeting was adjourned.

‘I see,’ Harry repeated.

Her eyebrows were black and uniform. Plucked

probably, Harry thought. Not noticeably plucked

though.

‘I have to go now,’ she said. ‘My tram . . .’

‘I see,’ Harry said for the third time without

making a move to go. ‘I hope you find him. My

father.’

‘We will.’

‘Bye.’ The gravel crunched beneath her heels as

she began to walk away.

‘Um . . . I’ve got a little problem . . .’ Harry said.

‘Thanks for your help.’

‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘You’re sure it isn’t too big

a detour for you?’

‘Absolutely not, I’m going the same way,’ Harry

said, peeking at the delicate, beyond-any-shadow-

of-a-doubt pricey leather gloves which were now

a dirty grey from pushing his Escort.

‘The question is whether the car will stay the

distance,’ he said. ‘It does seem to have had a

colourful past,’ she said, pointing to the hole in the

dashboard and a protruding tangle of red and

yellow wires where the radio should have been.

‘A break-in,’ Harry said. ‘That’s why the door

won’t lock. They broke that as well.’

‘So it’s open season for all and sundry now?’

‘Yes, that’s what it’s like when you’re old

enough.’

She laughed. ‘Is it?’

He threw her a quick glance. Perhaps she was the

type whose appearance doesn’t change as they age,

who looks thirty from the time she’s twenty till

fifty. He liked her profile, the soft lines. Her skin

had a warm, natural glow and not the dry, dull

suntan women of her age like to buy in February.

She had buttoned up her coat and he could see her

long, slim neck. He saw her hands resting lightly in

her lap.

‘It’s red,’ she said calmly.

Harry jumped on the brakes. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

What was he doing? Looking at her hands to find

out if she was wearing a wedding ring? My God.

He looked around and suddenly realised where