Free The Water's Edge by Karin Fossum Page A

lies there the whole day holding court. Can I tempt you with a cup of tea?'
He bustled around like an old woman.
'No, thank you, Åkeson,' Sejer said. 'Please sit down. You know we're very busy at the moment. And you already know why we're here. Or to put it another way, we don't have that many places to go.'
Åkeson let himself flop into the wicker armchair. He crossed his legs and folded his hands across his knee.
'True, and I have to say this,' he said. 'You've got to catch this man. We can't have this, I'm sure you'll agree.'
'We agree,' Sejer said kindly. His eyes rested on Åkeson's face and the sight of it made him smile.
Skarre shifted the cat on to the floor and sat down on the goatskin.
'He might strike again.' Åkeson said. 'I hope to God not, but that's how it is: once you've crossed that line, it's easy to keep going.'
'So you know something about this?' Skarre asked cautiously.
'I see things on the television,' Åkeson said, 'and I've been thinking that he might be a first timer.'
Sejer pricked up his ears. 'What makes you think that?'
'Well, he's kept a lid on things, a whole lifetime perhaps, possibly by being married. I'm only guessing here. His marriage breaks down and he's all alone in the world. He might have children of his own, but he no longer has any contact with them. The pressure grows until finally he snaps and when he comes to his senses again, he panics.'
Åkeson looked at them with his brown eyes.
'I mean,' he said theatrically, 'we need to ask ourselves the following question: are we looking for an experienced, predatory paedophile? Has this man invited boys to his house for years, has he been befriending them, giving them money, grooming them? And if so, why did it suddenly go wrong?'
Sejer and Skarre looked at each other.
'Are you sure you don't want a cup of tea after all?' Åkeson asked. 'I've got some custard creams. If you fancy some.'
'You're very kind,' Sejer said, 'but we're on duty and we can't stay for long.'
'Then I won't ask you again,' he said, 'though the golden rule for being a good host is to always ask three times. Anyway, you need to understand this man and what kind of preferences he has. Is he looking for any kid, or just boys, and in that case what type of boy? I mean, we're as discerning as anyone else, we don't swoon at just anyone coming our way.'
'Are you in touch with other paedophiles, Åkeson?' Skarre asked.
'Every now and then.'
'Have you noticed anyone in particular? Is there anyone who stands out?'
'No, not really. And there's not always much support to be had there, either, it depends on the individual. You know me, of course, and you know that I'm a simple soul who keeps myself to myself. So despite the tragic circumstances, I'm awfully pleased that you came to see me.'
Skarre struggled to suppress a smile; it was impossible not to be charmed by this short, gentle man.
'Jonas August came from Huseby,' Sejer said. 'He lived on Granatveien. And he went to Solberg School, he was in Year Three. Do you know a man who drives around in his car watching the children when they make their way home from school? A white car?'
Åkeson frowned. 'No, I don't know anyone like that. Rather risky, I would have thought. Personally I go into town. I sit on a bench in the centre and watch the kids, but I never touch them. You can always dream. My thoughts are free!' He erupted into a big smile.
Sejer and Skarre forced themselves not to laugh.
'So you stay away from schools?' Sejer asked.
'I don't draw attention to myself, is how I'd put it.'
Sejer had got up and was now studying a photograph on the wall. A black boy with dark eyes and bright white teeth.
'Isn't he gorgeous?' Åkeson said. 'I found him in a Red Cross calendar. I had to have him on my wall, I'm allowed that. But let me add that if I had been in Nigeria and actually met the poor lad, I would have given him something to eat first. I mean before I did anything else.'
'You've had therapy, haven't you, Åkeson?' Skarre