Death of the Demon: A Hanne Wilhelmsen Novel by Anne Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

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    “Where does that door lead?” he asked, pointing to a narrow door on the side wall.
    “That’s the staff bedroom. We sometimes use it as an office as well. That’s where I was sitting speaking on the phone when you arrived.”
    “Is it eight children who live here?”
    “Yes, we’ve actually got room for nine; we have a spare bed at present.”
    “Are all the bedrooms here on the first floor?”
    She nodded. “They’re situated along the corridor here. On both sides. I can show you them.”
    “Yes. Shortly,” Hanne Wilhelmsen said. “Has anything been reported stolen?”
    “No, not as far as we can see. We don’t know, of course, what might have been in the drawers, but . . . the drawers are locked. They haven’t been broken open.”
    “Where’s the key?”
    When she posed the question, Hanne Wilhelmsen was standing half turned away from Maren Kalsvik but nevertheless thought she noticed a hint of confusion cross the woman’s face as she turned and made eye contact. Just a touch. Perhaps it was simply a figment of her imagination.
    “It’s under the plant pot,” Maren Kalsvik answered. “On the bookshelf over there.”
    “Aha,” Billy T. said as he lifted the decorative pot.
    No key.
    Maren Kalsvik seemed genuinely surprised.
    “It’s usually there. Perhaps the police have taken it?”
    “Maybe.”
    The police officers exchanged a look, and Hanne Wilhelmsen jotted something in a spiral notebook before stuffing the papers back in her bag and indicating that they wanted to see the bedrooms.
    Olav and Raymond shared a room. So did Glenn and Kenneth, while Anita and Jeanette had the room farthest away at the other end of the corridor. The twins stayed on the opposite side of the corridor. Two rooms were unoccupied.
    “Why do some have to share when there are two empty bedrooms?”
    “For social reasons. Kenneth is scared to be on his own. The twins want to be together. Olav . . .”
    She stopped abruptly and repeated her continual hand movement across her fringe. “Olav is the one who disappeared. Agnes thought . . .”
    Now she was clearly on the verge of tears. She took a couple of convulsive breaths before pulling herself together.
    “Agnes thought Raymond would be a good influence on Olav. He’s tough and big and actually quite good with the younger ones. Although he protested about having a new roommate. From purely social, or educational reasons, if you will. The empty rooms are used for doing homework and that kind of thing.”
    “Have you still not heard from the runaway?”
    “No. We’re dreadfully worried. He hasn’t gone home, but that’s not particularly odd. He had no money, as far as we know, and it’s a terrible distance to walk.”
    Billy T. strode along the corridor, counting out the meters under his breath. Back at the director’s office, he had to raise his voice so the others could hear him.
    “This window here, it doesn’t usually remain open?”
    He could see from the faint lilac-colored dust along the ledges that the technicians had been searching for prints.
    “No,” Maren called back. “It’s always closed at this time of year. But we had a fire drill yesterday. The youngsters were flying up and down the ropes and ladders for an hour.”
    He could see that. The window had become warped and opened only very stiffly, but he banged it open with brute force.Below, he saw the same jumble of footprints that he had spotted underneath the windows on the other wall of the house. The emergency ladder could slide along the wall so that it could not be accessed from the ground. It was broad and sturdy, with rough, scuffed rungs. He tentatively released the lock on either side, and the lower part tumbled to the ground on well-greased runners. A solid piece of machinery. He pulled on a wire that looped over a smaller runner at the side of the window, and the lower part of the ladder returned obediently. When it was all the way up, it clicked decisively,