The Writing on the Wall by Gunnar Staalesen Read Free Book Online Page B

like …’ Her mother stepped aside to let me pass.
    Out in the hall a well-built, athletic-looking man, in a black T- shirt, dark trousers and with tattooed arms had just hung up his black leather jacket on a clothes hanger. He was in his thirties, hair slicked back and glistening with gel; he had a muscular face with deep lines running down from his nostrils.
    ‘All right, Astrid?’ he said with a cocky smile.
    ‘All right,’ she said in a clipped neutral tone.
    ‘She’s on her way out!’ said her mother quickly.
    ‘She can stay as far as I’m concerned.’
    ‘She’s on her way out, I said.’
    He gave me a hard look. ‘And who’s this guy? Her lover?’
    I looked him straight in the eye. ‘The daily help.’
    He rushed at me, one hand clenched in a fist. ‘I’ll give you daily
    help!’
    Gerd Nikolaisen stepped between us. ‘He’s on his way! Him as well … He’s just a guy from the…’
    ‘From the – ?’
    ‘A guy who’s looking for a friend of Astrid’s who didn’t come home.’
    ‘Torild Skagestø,’ I said. ‘Maybe you know something?’
    For a moment he was on uncertain ground. ‘Know something? I … what d’you mean?’
    ‘You don’t? In that case, you can just go right on into the sitting room. We’ve nothing to say to each other.’
    He turned to the other two. ‘Hear the way he just spoke to me? Who’s out of order, him or me?’
    Gerd Nikolaisen took hold of his arm. ‘Come on, Kenneth! Let’s go into the sitting room … They’re off anyway.’
    He shook himself free. ‘I heard! If you don’t watch your mouth, I might clear off too.’
    I could feel my stomach muscles tightening, moved to the door outside and, addressing Astrid’s mother, said: ‘If either of you hear anything about – Torild, we’d be glad to hear from you.’
    ‘I doubt it … but where can I …?’
    The fellow by the name of Kenneth lit a cigarette with a deft movement of the hand, eyes still flashing with anger.
    ‘You can ring her home. They’re on the class list. Skagestøl. Up in Furudalen.’
    ‘Shagherstill more like,’ muttered Kenneth.
    I passed close enough for him to blow cigarette smoke into my face. Of course, I could have stuck my elbow right in the middle of his ugly mug. But I had better things to do with my time than spend the next few hours in the waiting room at A&E.
    ‘Sorry to have troubled you,’ I said and left.
    Astrid followed me out. On the way down to the lift she said: ‘What an arsehole! He thinks he’s God’s gift just because …’
    ‘Just because?’
    ‘Oh, forget it.’
    Outside the block of flats I asked her whether I could give her a lift anywhere.
    She gave me a look suggesting I’d proposed something more than a friendly lift. ‘Where to?’
    I sighed. ‘Well, where are you going? Into town?’
    ‘Maybe. Yeah, that’ll be fine.’
    I unlocked the door on her side before going round to mine. When I climbed in and sat at the wheel, she was already installed in the front seat beside me. ‘If you try anything on, I’ll roll down the window and bawl my head off!’ she said with a dopey grin that made it look more like an invitation than a warning.

Seven
     
     
    I TOOK THE QUICK ROUTE up over Leitet and Brattlien, with the centre of Bergen like a deep incision in the terrain to our left. When I parked in Øvre Blekeveien she looked round suspiciously. ‘What are we doing here?’
    ‘Parking the car.’
    ‘Why didn’t you say first off that you were going to the country, then I could have caught the bus instead?’
    ‘It’ll only take you five minutes to walk down to the Fish Quay.’
    ‘I wasn’t going to the Fish Quay!’
    I leaned past her and opened the door on her side.
    She squeezed back into the seat ‘Hands off!’
    ‘Take it easy. I wouldn’t even touch you with rubber gloves on.’
    With a snort she got out of the car. As I was locking the door, she stood there looking round. ‘What’s this street I’m on?’
    ‘Never