Free Black Seconds by Karin Fossum Page A

nothing compared to what can happen to people.’
    ‘You said “early that evening”. Do you remember when?’
    She frowned. ‘Just after six. He called out from the hallway. The evening news was just starting and I usually watch it.’
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    ‘And where was he going?’
    ‘He spends a great deal of time with a boy called Bjørn. I think that’s where he was going,’ she said.
    ‘He lives at Frydenlund.’
    ‘I’d like to have a word with your son,’ Sejer said.
    ‘He might have seen something along the road. He’s at college today?’ he continued.
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘He’s spending the day with Willy. Another friend. Or rather they used to be friends. I’m not all that keen on him and I’ve told Tomme that. However, Willy’s good with cars. They’re trying to repair the damage.’
    Sejer was curious. ‘Why aren’t you all that keen on him?’
    ‘Willy is four years older,’ Ruth said. ‘I think he might have nicked a car, or maybe done something even worse. So I’m not happy about it. True, it was a long time ago. But it’s so important to Tomme to get the car mended.’
    ‘Sverre, your husband,’ Sejer said. ‘Helga says he travels a great deal?’
    ‘He’s in Stavanger right now,’ she said. ‘But he’ll be here at the weekend. Normally I don’t have a problem with him being away, we don’t need to spend every single moment together, and the kids are older and can take care of themselves. But right now it’s hard. With everything that’s hap pened. We call each other every evening.’
    ‘About Willy,’ Sejer said. ‘Does he live nearby?’
    ‘Further towards Glassverket. Willy Oterhals. I think he lives on Meieriveien, it’s a large yellow 76
    house with a big garage. He lives with his mother.’
    ‘You said he was older. Does he have a job?’
    ‘He works at the bowling alley. Or he used to. Sometimes he does shifts at the Shell petrol station next door to it. He has access to tools there, you see. He’s not a trained mechanic, but he knows a bit.’
    Ruth was surprised at Sejer’s interest in her son’s friend. She glanced at her watch and exclaimed:
    ‘I’ve got to get going. Helga is expecting me!’
    ‘I’ve kept you a long time,’ Sejer said. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
    This was followed once again by that brief bow of his. His manner made an impression on her. Everything about him was so calm and assured. Together they left the house. Ruth opened the garage door. Sejer looked at the white Volvo and the empty space next to it. At the far end of the wall stood four tyres, snow tyres most likely, which would soon need to be fitted. Various bits of junk, a few boxes on the shelves. Right by the door lay four worn rubber mats. Opel, he thought. Her son drives an Opel.
    Why do I talk so much? Ruth wondered.
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CHAPTER 6
    Willy Oterhals was sweating. A work lamp dangled from a beam in the roof and the heat from the strong bulb roasted his scalp. He had scraped away a large area of the paintwork with a pocket knife and the grey metal shone through. It was some dent. Retouching the paintwork would be the hardest bit. Willy felt optimistic, but he was in need of a break. He manoeuvred himself up on to the worktop and lit a cigarette. His eyes were deep set, so when he lowered his head they seemed like two black holes in his gaunt face. His gaze wandered along the walls of the garage, took in the shelves with their packets of nails, boxes of screws and nuts, spark plugs, oil and various tools. Up against the rear wall stood an old apothecary’s chest with hundreds of tiny drawers. No one apart from Willy knew what the drawers contained. If anyone were to look they would find nothing but small boxes and jars. But one thing was certain. The contents of some of the boxes would fetch a lot of money on the street.
    Willy inhaled the smoke and his eyes narrowed 78
    while he thought. Then he heard the sound of car tyres on the gravel. A tall grey-haired man appeared. Willy was