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through the list and ring all of the banks in the city, if necessary.
    In the meantime, I myself called the number provided for Falko Reinhardt’s parents in Grünerløkka. Here the telephone was answered on the third ring. An earnest woman’s voice announced ‘Reinhardt’. I introduced myself and said that if she and her husband were at home today, I would very much like to come and speak to them in connection with the murder of Marie Morgenstierne. She replied equally earnestly that she and her husband had heard about the murder on the radio, but did not know that it was Marie Morgenstierne who had been killed until just now. She added that since their son’s disappearance, they were generally always at home.
    There was silence for a moment. I asked if it would be suitable to come at either four or five o’clock. She replied, still very serious, that I could come at four, or at five, or whenever I liked. I said that I reckoned it would be sometime between four and five. She said that they would be happy to talk to me, but did not sound as though she meant it. Then she put the phone down before I had a chance to thank her.
    The secretary helping me trace Martin Morgenstierne was young and eager, and only a few minutes after I had finished my telephone call, she was standing at my door with the address and telephone number of the bank where Martin Morgenstierne was manager. It was not one of the largest in town, but was well known all the same and had a good reputation.
    I rang the bank’s switchboard and said that I was from the police and it was urgent. Then I got straight to the point and asked if they knew where Martin Morgenstierne, the manager, was.
    There was silence for a moment, then the switchboard operator replied that the bank manager was in his office, as he always was during office hours unless he had important meetings elsewhere.
    It was my turn to be lost for words. But eventually I asked if she could put me through to him.
    It was a strange and by no means pleasant experience to hear the bank manager’s calm voice answer with ‘Bank Manager Morgenstierne here.’
    I started by saying: ‘This is Detective Inspector Kolbjørn Kristiansen and I am afraid that I have some very bad news for you regarding a personal matter . . .’
    The bank manager’s voice sounded a touch sharper, but his response was just as measured when he asked if I was alluding to the death of his daughter, in which case his secretary had already informed him. She had been told by a friend of his who was an editor and had called to offer his condolences. He did not think that he would have anything of interest to contribute to the investigation as he had unfortunately only had very sporadic contact with his daughter in recent years. That being said, he would of course answer any questions the police might wish to ask.
    There was a brief pause when neither of us said anything. I was at a loss as to what to say to a man I had never spoken to before, who had found out only hours ago from his secretary that his daughter was dead and yet had just carried on with his working day as though nothing had happened.
    I offered my condolences all the same and assured him that that the investigation would be given the highest priority, then asked if I could meet him as soon as possible. He replied that he had an important meeting in the bank at half past three, but that he should be back home in Frogner by half past five at the latest. I suggested that I should come there at six and he said that would be fine.
    I sat deep in thought, with the receiver in my hand and the tone in my ear, after Martin Morgenstierne had put down the phone. The case seemed to be getting more and more convoluted, the more parties I got to know. The investigation was not yet half a day old and it was already clear that it involved several mysteries and a gallery of fascinating characters. I felt a tremendous sense of relief that I had Patricia behind me. And then I