He wondered how much she took in, if she could see that Palace Gardens were especially green after yesterday’s violent downpour. If she could even see that they were driving past Palace Gardens.It was Else herself who had suggested that they visit the Chagall exhibition at Høvikodden and Simon had said that it was an excellent idea, only he just had to swing by an old colleague who lived in Skillebekk which was on the way to the art gallery.There were plenty of parking spaces along Gamle Drammensveien. The old patrician houses and apartment blocks looked decidedly empty during the holidays. The occasional embassy flag stirred in the breeze.‘I won’t be long,’ Simon said. He got out and walked up to the door of the address he had found on the Net. The name he was looking for was listed at the top of a row of doorbells.After ringing the bell twice, Simon was about to give up when he heard a woman’s voice.‘Yes?’‘Is Fredrik there?’‘Eh . . . Who wants to know?’‘Simon Kefas.’There was silence for a few seconds, but Simon could hear crackling as a hand was placed over the microphone on the intercom.
