Free Black Seconds by Karin Fossum

to him whining about it when there were much more important things going on, so I gave him a piece of my mind," she concluded. She had talked herself warm; her cheeks were flushed.
    "Does he work?" Sejer wanted to know.
    "He's just started his last year at sixth-form college. He's not enjoying it and is unlikely to go on to higher education. He just wants a job and a salary, to keep his car and see his friends. He spends a lot of time in front of his computer. Or watching videos. That's all right with me," she said. "I'm not particularly ambitious on my kids' behalf. I just want them to be happy."
    "He was involved in an accident," Sejer said. "On the first of September? If I understood you correctly?"
    "Yes," she said. "He drove off early that evening and didn't come home until later that night. He was really upset, poor boy. You know how it is with boys and their cars. But I certainly made it quite clear to him that a dented car is 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."
    "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 in 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 stolen 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 on 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 happened. We call each other every evening."
    "About Willy," Sejer said. "Does he live nearby?"
    "Further toward Glassverket. Willy Oterhals. I think he lives on Meieriveien, it's a large yellow 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 gas 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 tires, snow tires 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.

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 gray metal shone through. It was some dent. Retouching the paintwork would be the hardest part. Willy felt optimistic, but he needed a break. He maneuvered himself up onto the