The Writing on the Wall Read Online Free PDF Page A

couldn’t spare many minutes.
    ‘I just wanted to know … Did she have any close friends, any who might have influenced her; were there others you noticed with the same attitude?’
    Her face hardened slightly. ‘I can’t be as explicit about others without their parents’ permission.’
    ‘I’ve already talked to Åsa Furebø. I got the impression they knocked about together a lot.’
    ‘Yes. That’s right, I think.’
    ‘Were there other girls?’
    ‘Astrid, perhaps. Astrid Nikolaisen.’
    ‘What’s she like?’
    ‘As I said, I can’t … But …’ She pointed at her wristwatch. ‘Must dash.’
    ‘Would it be possible for you to get Åsa and Astrid down here? So I could talk to them?’
    ‘Åsa, maybe. Astrid’s absent today.’
    ‘Oh? Has she been absent for a few days?’
    ‘Yesterday as well. All this week,’ she said dryly.
    ‘Torild wasn’t at school either the day she disappeared. Was that something that happened often?’
    ‘Sometimes. But she always brought a note afterwards.’ With a bitter smile she added: ‘But it turned out they were forged, according to what I’ve just heard.’
    ‘I see. Is it OK for me to use this office?’
    She looked around. ‘If no one else is using it … Sure, all right. If you hang on, I’ll get Åsa to come along.’ With a quick nod, she left.
    I stood waiting in the doorway.
    The teachers’ common room was practically empty. In the corner of a sofa sat a young man in a flannel check shirt and brown cords reading Dagen , a daily. On the tables lay a scattering of periodicals and a few more daily newspapers. The tables were decorated with small embroidered runners with an unlit square candle in the middle, and at the corner of one of them stood a hastily abandoned cup of coffee. For all I knew it might be Helene Sandal’s.
    The man reading the Christian daily scowled in my direction as though suspecting I might be a Russian secret agent who had sneaked into the school, pockets stuffed with condoms to start an all-out campaign targeted at the young impressionable souls.
    There was a knock, the door leading into the corridor opened, and Åsa came in, her face full of curiosity. When she saw who it was, she couldn’t conceal her disappointment.
    ‘Hello again, Åsa!’ I said with affected cheerfulness like the social worker I had once been.
    She glanced at the teacher in the corner as though hoping he might release her from this embarrassing situation.
    ‘I was thinking … There were perhaps a few things it might be easier for you to talk about without your parents present.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Come on in here – we can sit down …’
    ‘Can’t I refuse?’
    I paused before replying. ‘Why would you want to do that?’
    ‘Well, er …’
    ‘Do you have anything to hide, then?’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘You don’t? Could there be any other reason for not answering my questions?’
    She flopped down in the chair and sat there slouching, half turned away, which was certainly not going to do her back any good if it became a habit.
    ‘I’m thinking of – what I asked you yesterday. You can be frank with me, Åsa. I won’t repeat a word of it to your parents. All I need is information that can help me find out what’s happened to Torild.’
    She shot me a hostile look. ‘Oh really?’
    ‘So … When did you last see her?’
    She sat there open-mouthed. ‘When did I see her last? – It was the day we … She …’ She changed her mind.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘The day before she went missing.’
    ‘Last Wednesday?’
    ‘Yes, that’s right, I think.’
    ‘Where was it you saw her?’
    ‘Where? How do you mean?’
    ‘OK, let me put it like this, then … What were the two of you doing?’
    She shrugged. ‘We – went into town. Wandered about like we usually do.’ ‘I see. Do you remember where you went?’
    ‘Mm, no … Nowhere in particular.’
    ‘Not to the cinema?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Did you go for a Coke somewhere?’
    ‘No, I don’t