I'm Travelling Alone (14 page)

‘No, and I didn’t ask either. Had I known that … but I didn’t know that …’

Jenny Midthun clutched her head. She had to sit down on a chair. Anette disappeared into the back room and returned with a glass of water.

‘Thank you,’ the old woman said, her voice shaking.

‘When was the order placed?’

‘About a year ago. Last summer. The first one, I mean.’

‘Did he visit more than once?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Jenny nodded. ‘He came here many times. Payment was never a problem. Always cash, always on time. A good price. No problems there.’

‘How many dresses did you make?’

‘Ten.’

The old woman stared at the floor. Anette looked at Mia and raised her eyebrows.

There will be others. Ten dresses.

‘When did you last see him?’

‘Not that long ago, not really. Perhaps a month. Yes, I think so. In the middle of March. That’s when he came to pick up the last two.’

‘Can you tell us what he looks like? Are you feeling well enough to do that?’ Anette said.

‘Completely ordinary.’

‘What does ìcompletely ordinaryî mean to you?’

‘He was well dressed. Nice clothes. A suit and a hat. Nice, newly polished shoes. Not so tall – as tall as Arild, perhaps, my late husband, possibly 1.75 metres or thereabouts – neither fat nor thin, completely ordinary.’

‘Any regional accent?’

‘What? No.’

‘So would you say that he was from East Norway? Did he speak like us?’ Anette said.

‘Oh, yes, he was Norwegian. From Oslo. Perhaps forty-five or thereabouts. A completely ordinary man. Very nice. And very well dressed. How was I to know Ö I mean Ö If I had known then …’

‘You’ve been very helpful, Jenny,’ Mia said, gently patting the old woman’s hand. ‘And a great help. Now, I want you to think carefully: was there anything about him which was unusual? Something that stood out?’

‘I don’t know what that would be. Do you mean his tattoo?’

Anette looked at Mia again and smiled faintly.

‘He had a tattoo?’

Jenny Midthun nodded.

‘Here,’ she said, touching her neck. ‘Usually, he would be wearing a roll-neck jumper, so you couldn’t see it, but once he didn’t, or it didn’t quite cover his neck up, if you know what I mean, it was loose around the collar.’

Jenny Midthun touched her own collar to illustrate.

‘Was it a big tattoo?’ Anette wanted to know.

‘Oh. yes, it was. Covered practically everything from here and then down to …’

‘Did you see what kind of tattoo it was?’

‘Yes, it was an eagle.’

‘He had an eagle tattooed on his neck?’

Jenny Midthun nodded tentatively.

‘Call it in immediately,’ Mia said.

Anette nodded and took out her mobile. She went outside and into the street to make the call.

‘Have I been helpful?’

Jenny Midthun looked up at Mia with frightened eyes.

‘Am I going to go to prison?’

Mia patted her shoulder.

‘No, you’re not. But I would like you to come into town so that we can get an official statement from you; it doesn’t have to be right now, but in the next few days. Would that be all right?’

Jenny Midthun nodded and walked Mia to the door. Mia produced a business card from the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to her.

‘If you remember anything else, I want you to call me, OK?’

‘I will. But I’m not in trouble, am I?’

‘No, definitely not.’ Mia smiled. ‘Many thanks for your help.’

She heard the door being locked behind her as she stepped out into the street. Poor thing. She really was terrified. Mia saw the old woman’s face peer out from behind the curtains and hoped that she would not be alone for the rest of the day, that there was someone she could ring.

Mia turned when Anette had ended the call.

‘Did you speak to Holger?’

‘No, he didn’t answer his phone. I spoke to Kim. He’ll follow it up.’

‘Good.’ Mia smiled.

The two police officers got in the car and drove back quickly to Oslo.

Chapter 22

Holger Munch was sitting in Peppe’s Pizza on Stortingsgata, being given a lesson in how to brush a doll’s hair. They had just finished eating, he and Marion – that is to say, he had done the eating; Marion had spent most of her time drinking fizzy pop and playing. To his daughter’s great despair, he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t resist his granddaughter’s cute eyes and pleading voice. He had never been able to. He had showered Marion with presents from the day she was born: teddies, dolls … her bedroom looked ike a toy shop. Finally, Miriam had put her foot down and told him that enough was enough. They were trying to bring up their daughter to be an independent and sensible girl, not a spoiled brat.

‘Oh, Grandad, look. Monster High!’

‘Monster what?’

‘Monster High. That’s where they go to school. Look, that’s Jackson Jekyll. He’s a boy. Look at his nice yellow shirt. That’s because he’s a monster. Please can I have him?’

‘We had better not buy anything today, Marion. You remember what your mum said: we have to wait until it’s your birthday.’

‘But that’s a trillion days away! And, anyway, when I’m with you, Mum’s rules don’t apply.’

‘Really? Says who?’

‘Says me. Just now.’

‘Is that right?’

‘I get to make the decisions, because I’m six years old and I’m going to go to Lilleborg School soon, then no one can tell me what to do any more, I’m in charge.’

Now who did she remind him of? Sweet and lovely, but incredibly stubborn and wilful?

‘Oh, that’s Draculaura! Look, Grandad, Draculaura! And Frankie Stein! Frankie Stein, Grandad! Oh, please, can we buy them, Grandad?’

Marion got her way in the end, as she always did. Two dolls. Jackson Jekyll and Frankie Stein. Both students at some kind of monster school which Holger Munch didn’t know the first thing about – not that it mattered. But the smile in Marion’s eyes and her warm, soft arms wrapping themselves around his neck did. Who cared what school a couple of dolls went to and whether her mother would get annoyed?

‘Jackson Jekyll wants to be Frankie Stein’s boyfriend, but she doesn’t want to go out with him because she’s a tough girl who has big plans for the future.’

‘You mean she’s independent?’

Marion looked up at him with her bright blue eyes.

‘Yes, that’s what I mean.’

Holger smiled to himself. It was like hearing his daughter’s voice all over again. Little Marion was a true copy of Miriam, and then some. Holger Munch was reminded of the day they had walked Miriam to school for her first day. How proud he had been. His little girl had grown up and was going out into the world for the first time. She had looked so cute, with pigtails, new clothes and a new satchel on her back. She had been very excited about starting school, but she was also dreading it a bit because everything was new. They had stood together in the playground and watched her go inside, he and Marianne; they were not allowed to walk in with them, this was how the school wanted it, it was better if the children met inside on the first day without their parents being present. Miriam had squeezed his hand hard, refusing to let go. Still a daddy’s girl. How did she suddenly turn fifteen, wearing heavy make-up, listening to loud music behind a closed bedroom door, definitely not a daddy’s girl any more? Not to mention the next leap to twenty-five – how did that happen? The little girl who had clung to his leg, scared of all the other children, was now being fitted for her wedding dress, about to marry Marion’s father, Johannes, who was a newly qualified doctor from Fredrikstad, and a man he barely knew. Holger Munch switched his attention back to his grandchild, who still thought he was the best grandfather in all the world and still wanted a hug and to sit on his lap.

‘Now you be Jackson Jekyll,’ Marion said.

‘What did you say, sweetheart?’

‘Now you’re Jackson Jekyll and I’m Frankie Stein.’

‘Don’t you want a bit more pizza?’

‘Frankie Stein doesn’t want to eat anything because she’s on a diet. Please take the doll, Grandad.’

Holger accepted the doll reluctantly while trying not to be distracted by all the messages that kept arriving on his mobile. He had made up his mind that he was not going to make the same mistakes twice. When he was with Marion, she would have his full attention; that was the way it was going to be, the rest of the world would just have to wait.

‘Say something, Grandad,’ Marion said impatiently, balancing the thin monster doll on the table between leftover pizza slices.

‘What do you want me to say?’

‘Oh, that’s for you to decide. Don’t you know how to play, Grandad?’

‘Heh, heh,’ Holger Munch said in a different voice, pretending to be Jackson Jekyll, hoping desperately the customers at the neighbouring table could not hear him.

‘Hey, Jackson, how are you?’ Marion said in her doll’s voice.

‘Do you want to go see a film?’

‘Yes, that sounds like fun. What’s on?’

‘
Pippi Longstocking
,’ Holger Munch said.

‘But that’s a kid’s movie.’ Frankie Stein sighed. ‘And that’s not the voice you used before, Grandad.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Holger said, stroking his granddaughter’s hair.

‘That’s quite all right.’ The little girl nodded. ‘After all, you’re old, Grandad, you don’t understand what young people do.’

She took both dolls and showed him how the conversation would have gone if he had been better at playing:

‘Hey, Frankie.’

‘Hey, Jackson.’

‘Do you want to go to that party at school on Friday?’

‘I’d love to, but it’s not a date, we’re just friends.’

‘Can I kiss you?’

‘No, no kissing, just a hug.’

‘Can I have a hug, please?’

‘OK.’

Marion pressed the two dolls together. Holger saw a chance to sneak a peek at his mobile. Anette had called and sent a text message. Kim had sent two text messages. And Kurt Eriksen, his family lawyer, had called him several times. He wondered what he wanted. Marion was absorbed in playing, so he seized the opportunity to read the message from Anette.

We have the woman who made the dresses. And the customer. A man with an eagle tattoo on his neck. Have spoken to Kim. Call me.

So soon? Holger Munch felt his police heart beat a little faster. Sometimes the media could be useful: they had got a hit almost immediately. He quickly skimmed the two messages from Kim.

Might have something on the eagle tattoo guy. Curry thinks he knows who it is. Call me.

And then just.

Hello?

‘Hi, where is Marion?’

Holger snapped back to reality to discover his daughter standing in front of him with a mildly irritated expression.

‘Hello, Miriam. Marion? She’s …’

Marion was not on her chair.

‘She was just …’

He never managed to complete the sentence. Miriam had already gone to retrieve Marion, who had wandered further into the restaurant as part of her game.

‘Didn’t we have a talk about buying her fewer toys?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Get your things, Marion, we’re going home.’

‘Already? But me and Grandad were going to have ice cream.’

‘That’ll have to be some other day. Come on.’

Miriam started packing up Marion’s things. Holger got up to help.

‘So how did the fitting go? Is everything all right?’

‘It’s not really what I wanted.’ Miriam sighed. ‘But they have a tailor, so we can alter it; I just hope they’ll get it done in time.’

‘Yes, 12 May is not far away.’

‘No, you can say that again. Come on, Marion, we have to run now, Daddy is parked illegally outside. Say bye-bye to Grandad.’

‘Bye-bye, Grandad.’ the little girl smiled and gave him a big hug. ‘Promise you’ll practise playing for next time?’

‘I promise.’ Holger smiled.

‘Will you be going on your own?’ Miriam said.

‘To what?’

‘To the wedding. Will you be on your own, or will you be bringing someone?’

Bring someone to the wedding? It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He didn’t quite know why, but suddenly Karen from the care home sprang to mind. Her face lit up every time he visited. But take someone to a wedding for your first date? No, that would be completely wrong.

‘I’m coming on my own,’ Holger said.

‘Why don’t you bring Mia? I heard she’s back? I’d love her to come. I’ve tried calling her, but her mobile doesn’t seem to work.’

Bring Mia – now there was a thought. And he knew that Miriam and Mia liked each other.

‘She has a new phone,’ he said. ‘But I don’t mind asking her myself. In fact, it’s a very good idea.’

‘Good, then I’ll add her to the list,’ Miriam said, and almost smiled before reverting back to her usual, serious self. ‘And another thing – it looks like Johannes and I may have to take a trip to Fredrikstad next weekend. Could you have Marion?’

‘Of course.’

‘Are you back in your old flat? Have you moved out of that place in Hønefoss?’

‘Yes, I’m back now. She can spend the whole weekend with me. That would be great.’

‘OK, I’ll call you.’

Miriam herded Marion towards the exit.

‘Bye-bye, Grandad.’

‘Bye-bye, Marion.’

Holger Munch waved goodbye until the door slammed shut behind them, then he went to pay the bill.

Once he got outside, he could barely wait to call his colleagues. His break from the world had lasted long enough. They had news about the dresses. Kim answered his phone after the first ring.

‘Hello?’

‘What have we got?’ Munch asked.

‘Anette and Mia found the woman who made the dresses. A seamstress from Sandvika.’

‘And?’

‘The customer was a man in his mid-forties. Eagle tattoo on his neck. Ten dresses.’

‘Ten dresses?’

‘Correct.’

Damn.

‘And we know who he is?’

‘Curry thinks he does. Like I said, we’re not one hundred per cent, but how many people in their mid-forties have a large eagle tattoo on their neck? He fits the description. Roger Bakken. He doesn’t have a record, but Curry ran into him once when he worked for the Drug Squad.’