Free We Shall Inherit the Wind by Gunnar Staalesen Page A

locals share my viewpoint. The Deputy Chairman on the council often came here with him.’
    ‘I see. And what’s his name?’
    ‘Jarle Glosvik. He’s from Byrknesøy, across the sound from here.’
    ‘Jarle Glosvik?’ I recognised the name from the documents I had leafed through at Mons Mæland’s. ‘He’s got vested interests as well, hasn’t he?’
    ‘He’s got property on the island, but it’s mostly wasteland, if you ask me.’
    ‘And where can I meet him?’
    ‘You’ll have to go to the council offices in Eivindvik. If he’s not working. He runs a construction company on the side.’
    ‘And he’s in favour of the wind farm, I suppose?’
    ‘One of the most energetic in the campaign.’
    ‘Not your husband though?’
    ‘No,’ she said drily. ‘Not Lars.’
    ‘How many guests can you accommodate here actually?’
    ‘You’ll see when you get there. There are beds for eight in each cabin, shared between four bedrooms. We can also put in extra beds. So we have forty beds and room for twenty more. But it’s the marina that does us proud in the summer.’
    ‘So when Mons was here – a week or two ago – he stayed here?’
    ‘He always stays here.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘There are no alternatives.’
    ‘No, I can see that. But tell me: In recent times, did he seem different? As if something was bothering him?’
    ‘Now you say it; it did strike me that he was a bit more tight-lipped than usual. I never thought there might be something bothering him though.’ Then she stared straight at me again. ‘But I’ve let my tongue carry me away here. Who are you actually, and why all these questions?’
    ‘I’m a private investigator.’
    ‘Private …?’ She gaped at me in disbelief. ‘A sort of detective?’
    I grinned. ‘Yes.’  
    ‘And you’re searching for Mons?’
    ‘You could put it as simply as that, yes.’
    She opened her palms. ‘Well, I’m afraid there’s not much to see here.’
    ‘So it seems, but … What did he usually do when he was here?’
    ‘I’ve already told you. Surveys, conferences, on-site inspections.’
    ‘He didn’t visit anyone?’
    She smirked and tossed her head in the way she did. ‘He had to make do with Lars and me. Social life on Brennøy is somewhat limited out of season.’ She pulled her chair away from the table. ‘Now I have to get back to what I should be doing.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Accounts, paperwork. You have no idea how much red tape there is – even for such a small business as this.’
    ‘Oh, I’m afraid I do. One final question. Have you met his wife?’
    ‘Only Lea. I knew her, of course, before she went missing. Well, I assume you know she drowned in the sea many years ago.’
    ‘I know about it, yes. She was never found.’
    ‘No, but that’s not so unusual. Those of us who live by the sea know that. The sea gives and the sea takes, but not always with a righteous hand.’ She made this sound like a quote from the Bible – or maybe the Havamål, an old Norse poem. ‘I’ve never met his second wife. She never came with him.’
    ‘So in other words …’
    ‘I’ve got to work now, Veum. If there’s anything else of a practical nature, you can find me here.’ She pointed to the mezzanine. ‘In my office.’
    ‘Thank you very much. I’m going to walk over to where they’ve planned the wind farm. Is it hard to find?’
    She shook her head. ‘Put your finger in the air and walk north. Through the copse north of the chapel. Take the path by the small red house on your left. Soon you’ll be out on open ground and bare rock. You’ll see the cross in the distance.’
    ‘The cross?’
    ‘Yes, the cross,’ she said, shrugging and leaving me with the dregs ofmy coffee and the as yet uneaten waffle with blueberry jam. She didn’t ask if I wanted any more. I finished the meal, got up, took my bag and left.
    Outside, it had stopped raining. But the wind was picking up.

10
    The neighbouring cabin with the bedrooms was