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started to wonder who it was knocking on my door.
    X
    This time the door-knocker turned out to be Detective Inspector Vegard Danielsen. I had silently hoped that he was on summer holiday in some faraway place, but now remembered that he never went on holiday at any time of year for fear of missing out on a career opportunity.
    He had come primarily to ‘sympathize’ with me about being given sole responsibility for the murder of Marie Morgenstierne, which would no doubt be a very demanding case. Danielsen also wanted to make sure that I knew about the possible connection to Falko Reinhardt’s disappearance, as he himself had led that investigation. I was as friendly as could be, thanked him and assured him that I would be in touch should any relevant questions crop up. However, I had already had the pleasure of reading his written report, which was so informative and detailed that I had everything I needed for the present. He smiled and thanked me and told me that the door to his office was always open, should I need any assistance.
    He then added, with the falsest smile, that some potentially good news had just come in. A witness had come forward who had been walking behind Marie Morgenstierne on the way to the station the evening before.
    I asked jokingly why he had not brought the witness in with him straight away. He replied that unfortunately there were certain practical problems in connection with the witness, and it would therefore perhaps be best if I came out and met her myself.
    I smelt a rat, and asked if the witness was under the influence or indisposed for any other reason. Danielsen cheerily shook his head and said that the witness was a sober and undoubtedly reliable person, but was still, to put it politely, ‘problematic as an eyewitness’. It would perhaps be best if I went out to the reception area to meet her myself. He could scarcely hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth when he said this.
    I understood that something was not right, but did not yet know what. So I followed him out to reception.
    The first thing that took me by surprise was the faint sound of a dog whining. But I understood the problem as soon as I saw the dog, and its owner.
    She was a rather attractive redhead and she was waiting patiently on a chair, with a white stick in her hands. Her eyes stared blankly at me when she took off her dark glasses.
    XI
    I immediately led the witness and her dog into my office. Her name was Aase Johansen, she was twenty-five years old and lived with her parents in her childhood home in Smestad. She had tried to find a course at the university that was suitable for blind students and that interested her, but without any luck. She now therefore spent the greater part of her day listening to the radio and reading. The evening before, she had been on her way to meet a friend with her dog and had been heading in the direction of the station. And even though she had not been able to see what happened, she had heard enough to think she should report to the police, when the request for witnesses to come forward was announced on the radio.
    I immediately thanked her for coming and said that it was indeed the right thing to do. I asked her to recall as well as she could what she had heard, and to tell me in as much detail as possible anything she thought might be of interest.
    Aase Johansen took this task very seriously. She started by pointing out that she could of course not be one hundred per cent certain, but that she was at least ninety per cent sure that it was Marie Morgenstierne who had been walking in front of her yesterday evening. She knew the road very well, and she was just past the lamppost that was a couple of hundred yards from the station. So the timing fitted, as she had arrived at her friend’s flat, which was only a hundred yards or so from there, at around a quarter past ten. Aase Johansen had reacted immediately when a woman who was walking at a steady, relaxed pace about