Killing Moon полностью

‘Responsibility.’ It was his grandfather’s voice, the kind, alcoholic man who vomited in the dawn light before shoving the rowing boat out of the boatshed, lifting Harry aboard while Harry asked why they were going to pull in the nets now when Grandad was sick. But Harry didn’t have any bloody responsibilities left to run from. Or did he? Apparently, he thought he did. He was standing here in any case. Harry felt a headache coming on and pushed the thoughts away. He did so by concentrating on simple, concrete things he understood. Like trying to interpret Røed’s facial expressions and body language as he sat answering questions. Harry tried, without listening to the answers, to decide if he thought Markus Røed was guilty or not. Sometimes it felt as though all the experience Harry had gathered throughout his life as a detective was useless, that his ability to read other people was mere illusion. While other times this — this gut feeling — was the only certainty, the only thing he could always count on. How many times had he been without physical proof or circumstantial evidence, but known, and been right in the end? Or was that just cognitive bias, confirmation bias? Had he thought he’d known just as often but been wrong and consigned it to oblivion? Why was he so sure Markus Røed hadn’t killed the women — and was still so sure he wasn’t innocent? Had he ordered the murders, ensured he had an alibi and been so confident his innocence would be proved that he had paid Harry and the others to do it? If that was the case, why not provide yourself with a better alibi than being at home alone with your wife when the first two murders were committed? And now he didn’t even have an alibi, Markus Røed claimed he had been home on his own the night Helene was killed. Her — the witness who could save him if there was a trial. It didn’t add up. And yet...

‘Is he saying anything?’ a voice whispered next to Harry. It was Katrine, who had entered the semi-darkness of the room and stood between Harry and Sung-min.

‘Yes,’ Sung-min whispered. ‘Don’t know. Can’t remember. No.’

‘Right. Picking up any vibes?’

‘I’m trying,’ Harry said.

Sung-min didn’t answer.

‘Sung?’ Katrine said.

‘I might be wrong,’ Sung-min said, ‘but I think Markus Røed is a closet gay. With the emphasis on closet.’

The other two looked at him.

‘What makes you think that?’ Katrine asked.

Sung-min gave a crooked smile. ‘That would be a long lecture, but let’s just say it’s the sum of a long series of subliminal details which I notice, and you don’t. But I could be wrong of course.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ Harry said.

Now the two others looked at him.

He cleared his throat. ‘Remember I asked if you’d heard of Villa Dante?’

Katrine nodded.

‘It’s actually a club called Tuesdays, just reopened under a different name.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ she said.

‘Exclusive gay club a few years back,’ Sung-min said. ‘It was shut down when an underage boy was raped there. Then it was referred to as Studio 54, after the gay bar in New York, you know. Because it was open exactly as long, thirty-three months.’

‘Now I remember,’ Katrine said. ‘We called it the Butterfly case because the boy said the rapist was wearing a butterfly mask. But wasn’t the reason they had to close because they had waiters under eighteen serving spirits?’

‘Technically, yes,’ Sung-min said. ‘The court wasn’t willing to accept the club’s activities fell under private function, and consequently ruled they’d broken licensing laws.’

‘I’ve reason to believe that Markus Røed frequented Villa Dante,’ Harry said. ‘I found a membership card and a cat mask in the pockets of this suit. Which is his.’

Sung-min raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re... eh, wearing his suit?’

‘What are you getting at, Harry?’ Katrine’s voice was sharp, her stare hard.

Harry took a deep breath. He could still let it lie.

‘It seems Villa Dante has continued to hold the club nights on Tuesdays. If Røed is as anxious to stay in the closet as you believe, he may have an alibi for the nights Susanne and Bertine were killed, just not the alibi he’s given us.’

‘What you’re saying,’ Katrine said slowly, while Harry felt as though her eyes were drilling into his head, ‘is that we have arrested a man with a better alibi than that he was with his wife. That he was at a gay club. But doesn’t want anybody to know that?’

‘I’m just saying it’s a possibility.’

‘You’re saying it’s possible Røed would rather risk prison than have his sexual orientation revealed?’ Her voice was monotone but quivered with something Harry could guess at. Sheer unadulterated anger.

Harry looked at Sung-min, who nodded.

‘I’ve met men who would sooner be dead than be outed,’ Sung-min said. ‘We might believe things have moved forward for all in that regard, but unfortunately that’s not the case. The shame, self-loathing, condemnation, it’s not a thing of the past. Especially for those of Røed’s generation.’