‘Hey, at the station it’s me who finishes relationships!’
Frank Frølich went to the toilet to be alone and think. He was alarmed by his own reaction, the boundless joy he had felt when he found out that Elisabeth was Jonny Faremo’s sister and not his wife. But the brother’s being a criminal was a problem. What was the right way to behave now?
He looked at his reflection. He told himself aloud: ‘The right thing would be to confront her, to talk about her brother. No, you must cut the connection.’
He sat down on the toilet seat and chewed his knuckles. What is the right thing to do? Break all contact over the phone? Stammer out: You know I can’t have a relationship with the sister of a criminal! Only to get the obvious response: Frank, is it me you’re interested in, or my brother?
He ran the back of his hand across his forehead. Was this actually so unusual? Others must have been in this situation too. He tried to console himself by finding examples. The head of Inland Revenue discovers one day that his wife is fiddling taxi bills and deducting them from tax. No. Irrelevant. This is about relationships. There are socialist party members who go to bed with right-wingers and vice versa. Women prison officers who start relationships with inmates.
This last analogy makes him sweat even more.
A male priest, who is against women becoming priests, woos a woman priest. A militant neo-Nazi goes to the wrong pub and realizes he is homosexual. Fatuous examples. Use your head! The chairman of a local right-wing extremist party finds out his daughter has got engaged to a black man who, in fact, is a great guy.
Frank Frølich shook his head at himself. Is that why I’m getting anxious, because it’s about me this time? Is this panic caused by my paranoia, or is the fact that her brother has done time the real problem?
He imagined the conversation again: You have to understand, Elisabeth. I’m a cop! Your brother is a member of a gang. These are not people who are open to the general blather about individually tailored safeguards and fresh starts in life with roses and violins. Jonny and his pals are hardened criminals. We’re talking about organized crime!
He shook his head at himself. As if she didn’t already know these things!
Well, isn’t that the heart of the problem?
Yes, the problem is that she has kept her mouth shut. She knows I’m a policeman, has always known that. We first met because I was a policeman. So she should have said something about her brother a long time ago!
The brutal truth of this conclusion unnerved him at first. Afterwards it was like emerging from the water after holding your breath too long. The conclusion would be his platform. She had kept her mouth shut, she had manipulated him, kept things quiet, had played with him.
Straightaway he took a decision.
He washed his face with cold, clean water, dried it with a paper towel and went out, back to his office.
Gunnarstranda had arrived. He said: ‘You look pale, Frølich. Tired?’
Frølich took his jacket, threw it over his shoulder and walked towards the door. ‘No, just bloody sick of paperwork.’
Gunnarstranda peered over his glasses. ‘Take it easy. Soon be Christmas. Then, on Christmas Eve, some jealous young brat is bound to exact his murderous revenge for being cuckolded.’
Gunnarstranda’s wheezing laughter followed him out into the corridor.
When she next rang he answered the phone. All his unease was instantly swept away by her gentle, veiled voice.
She wanted to go to the cinema.
He said yes.
They met outside the Saga cinema. First of all, they went to Burger King. He had a baconburger and she wanted a milkshake. A vanilla milkshake.
‘I only eat burgers at McDonald’s,’ she said as they sat down by the window facing the street. There were almost no customers on the first floor. Apart from a father with two daughters who were making a mess and smearing ketchup all over their clothes.
‘Shall we