Free The Consorts of Death by Gunnar Staalesen Page B

swig, didn’t react, but a shiver ran through him, and he put down the cup straightaway.
    ‘But you remember your mum coming home?’ I continued. ‘That’s what you told me yesterday.’
    His face seemed to close again. ‘Nope,’ he repeated, looking down.
    Cecilie sent me an admonitory glance.
    ‘Well, so … let’s not talk about that any more,’ I said lightly. ‘Is the chocolate good? For famished boys?’
    He squinted up. There was a wary appraisement in his eyes that had not been there before. Then it was gone, and he nodded in silence, raised the cup to his mouth and took another swig, more cautious this time and still without saying anything.
    ‘Well …’ I motioned to Hans and we went into the vestibule, leaving Cecilie with Jan.
    ‘I heard Langeland, the solicitor, had rung you.’
    ‘Yes, he … we were at university together. Moderate rebels, both of us,’ he said with a tiny grin.
    ‘He told you everything?’
    ‘Yes, I was given the whole story. But I had no idea that Vibecke and Svein were his foster parents. Her name was Størset when I knew them.’
    ‘Yes, you must have been fellow students, too?’
    ‘Yes. She and Jens were, I suppose, almost … an item for a while.’
    ‘They were a couple?’
    ‘Yes, but not for long. And later we lost contact, all of us.’
    ‘Not her and Langeland though. He’s their family solicitor, as I’m sure he said.’
    ‘Indeed, so I understand.’
    ‘But you didn’t have any contact, I gather?’
    ‘Not with Vibecke and Svein. Jens and I met up on the odd evening over a beer or two, but nothing more than that. As time went on we developed … in different directions. He became a law-abiding citizen, I …’
    ‘Became an outlaw?’
    He grinned. ‘No, no. But you know how it is, Varg. You, me and the law are not always on the same wavelength, are we.’
    ‘No, you may be right there. Did he say any more about … Vibecke?’
    ‘No, he didn’t. He was most concerned with Jan. And his state of mind.’
    ‘Good. What do you think? He’s thawed a bit now, hasn’t he.’
    ‘You’ve done a great job, Varg. But I still think we should consider hospitalisation.’
    ‘Let’s give him one more night, eh?’
    ‘OK. I’ll go with that.’
    We went back to Cecilie and Jan. ‘Must be bedtime soon, right?’ I said. ‘Are there any exciting books up there?’
    Cecilie nodded. ‘The one we started yesterday was nice, anyway. About Winnie the Pooh.’
    ‘I’ll come up with you.’
    On the stairs I said to her: ‘Shall I take this shift?’
    ‘Would you like to?’
    ‘One of us definitely ought to be here, and since you did last night then …’
    She nodded. ‘It would be nice to go home and change clothes anyway.’
    She still helped Jan put on his pyjamas, wash and clean his teeth, though. When finally he was in bed, she sat on the chair beside him and asked: ‘Should Varg read perhaps?’
    He looked at me.
    ‘I’m wolf-keen to read,’ I said.
    He lowered his head stiffly, and Cecilie and I exchanged places.
    ‘Here,’ she said, and I began to read. ‘“The Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of a beech tree, and the beech tree was in the middle of the forest, and the Piglet lived in the middle of the house. Next to his house was a piece of broken board which had ‘TRESPASSERS W’ on it. When Christopher Robin asked the Piglet what it meant, he said it was his grandfather’s name, and had been in the family for a long time.”’
    Cecilie sat on the other chair and stayed there until Jan’s eyes had begun to flicker. When he seemed to be falling asleep, we motioned to each other and crept into the corridor.
    We were standing at the top of the stairs. In the distance other noises came from the house: the television set on the ground floor, the hissing in the pipes and excited falsetto voices from one of the other rooms.
    She said: ‘In a way, this has been a nice day.’
    I nodded and smiled.
    She came over to me,