The Fourth Man
staircase was five metres away. Soon Lena would be level with them and exit the stairs facing this way. She would see him with Elisabeth.
    ‘Your brother, does he know about us?’
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    At that moment Lena turned to look for somewhere to sit. She was only seconds away from spotting Frank Frølich out on the town with a new lady friend; he was seconds away from a rumour about him being spawned.
    Elisabeth smiled disarmingly.
    As he refrained from answering the smile, she became earnest and looked down. Fidgety fingers. ‘Does it matter?’
    ‘Does what matter?’
    ‘About Jonny. Does it matter?’
    Lena Stigersand shouted: ‘Hi, Frank!’
    Game over.
    Frølich peered up and pretended to be surprised: ‘Hi, Lena!’
    Elisabeth remained absolutely silent.
    Lena Stigersand came over to him with a smile, accompanied by her idiot of a partner/undercover policeman, who was bound to know about Jonny Faremo and probably even knew that Jonny had a sister. Both were now waiting beside the table where he was sitting with Elisabeth, who was concentrating on sucking her straw.
    Frølich cleared his throat. ‘Lena, meet Elisabeth.’
    It enveloped them, the slightly reserved atmosphere that arises when you exchange names.
    Smiling, Lena said, ‘We’ve met before, Elisabeth.’
    ‘Oh?’ Elisabeth replied, puzzled.
    Frølich remembered before Lena could say anything. So he interceded in and told her himself. ‘In Torggata, Badir’s shop. Lena was leading the operation.’
    Elisabeth’s face cracked into a smile. ‘That was where Frank and I first met.’
    Lena Stigersand’s face was a transparent pane of glass. He was able to see the wires connecting up in her head. The look she gave him. The detective now, the policewoman making connections, not the nice woman friend meeting a good colleague in town.
    Lena and her partner moved off and were soon out of hearing. They scraped their chairs at the far side of the room. Frank Frølich pushed the half-eaten burger away. He was unable to think about food. ‘Elisabeth …’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘I asked if your brother knew about us.’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    He took a deep breath. ‘If you have talked to him about me, he knows.’
    ‘I don’t think he knows about you.’
    ‘You haven’t said a single word about me to your brother?’
    ‘Relax, calm down.’ Elisabeth had tears in her eyes now.
    ‘It’s you I’m interested in,’ Frølich said reassuringly. ‘I’ve never considered starting a relationship with your brother.’
    Her face all smiles and gleaming eyes again. But why was she relieved? He reflected and knew the answer: she was relieved because the conversation was over.

4
     
    Frølich was at work, sitting at his desk. He gave a start. Momentarily, he had been absent, his mind elsewhere – with her.
    He gave another start as Yttergjerde repeated: ‘Go on, Frankie.’
    He sat staring at Yttergjerde. For those blanked-out seconds he had no idea what they were talking about.
    This is me. I start a conversation and switch off. What is going on?
    His memory returned. He resumed the theme he had initiated: ‘I was just saying we were on a course learning about those blind dogs.’
    ‘They’re called guide dogs.’
    ‘Yes, that’s it. We were learning about how to recognize particular signs in dogs, ones which might be suitable for the job, about their natures …’ Frølich stared at Yttergjerde’s face, almost switching off again as his mind went in a different direction. But he focused firmly on the task in hand and continued: ‘And the eyes, the body language, right? It’s the same with drugs dogs. Some are suitable, some aren’t.’
    Yttergjerde nodded enthusiastically. He sensed a witticism coming.
    ‘So, there I was, looking at these dogs, using what I had learned, right, and convinced that the Alsatian in the middle, that Alsatian was guide dog numero uno, right …’
    ‘Yes?’ Yttergjerde had a broad grin on his face,
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