‘It was perhaps not formally correct,’ Katrine said. ‘But they called the individual who in effect has been leading this investigation, in the sense of being at the forefront. Can we move on?’
The two women’s eyes met.
Katrine was aware that what she had said — and the way she had said it — could be perceived as provocative. And maybe it was. So what? This wasn’t the time for office politics and pissing contests. And perhaps Melling realised that too. In any case, she gave Katrine a curt nod.
‘OK, Bratt. Go on, Hole.’
Harry nodded in the direction of the window as though he’d had a silent conversation with someone outside and turned to the others again.
‘Mm. Pathology found a skin fragment between Bertine Bertilsen’s teeth. According to the post-mortem technicians, it was so loose that it would have disappeared had she rinsed her mouth or brushed her teeth, so it’s reasonable to assume it ended up there just prior to death. For example, by her biting her killer. There is a preliminary profile with a very likely match in the database.’
‘Criminal?’
‘Not convicted, but yes.’
‘How high is the probability?’
‘High enough to merit arrest,’ Harry said.
‘In your opinion. We can’t afford to make yet another arrest where the press—’
‘This is our man.’ Harry said it in a low voice, but the words seemed to resound in the room.
Melling shifted her gaze to Katrine, who nodded.
‘And you, Larsen?’
‘The latest information from Pathology is a probability of ninety-two per cent,’ Sung-min said. ‘This is our man.’
‘Good,’ Melling said and clapped her hands together. ‘Get to it.’
They stood up.
On the way out Melling held Katrine back.
‘Do you like this office, Bratt?’
Katrine looked at Melling, uncertain. ‘Yes, the place looks nice.’
Melling ran a hand over the back of one of the meeting chairs. ‘I only ask because I haven’t got the green light yet, but I might be moving to another one, which means this will be vacant.’ Melling smiled with a warmth Katrine didn’t know she possessed. ‘But don’t let me keep you, Bratt.’
Ornamental kale
Harry entered the cemetery. The florist in Grønlandsleiret had suggested he place ornamental kale on the grave. Not only because it resembled a beautiful flower, but because the colours would only turn prettier as the temperature dropped over autumn.
He picked up a branch that must have broken off in the previous night’s storm and now lay partly across the headstone, placed it by the trunk of the tree, walked back, squatted down and used his hands to work the pot of flowering kale down into the soil.
‘We’ve found him,’ Harry said. ‘I thought you’d like to know, because I expect you’re keeping tabs.’
He peered up at the crisp, blue sky. ‘I was right about it being someone on the periphery of the case, a person we had seen but not seen. As regards everything else, I was wrong. I’m always looking for motive, you know that, believe that’s what will lead us in the right direction. And of course, there’s always a motive. But it’s not always shining so brightly that we can use it as a lodestar, is it? Not when the motive is so locked away in the darkness of insanity as here, at any rate. Then I give up on the
It was three o’clock when Øystein Eikeland entered Jernbanetorget, where he had met Harry a week and a half earlier. It seemed like an eternity ago. Passing the tiger statue, he saw Al bent double with one hand resting on the wall of the old Central Station building.
‘How’s it going, Al?’ Øystein said.
‘Took some bad shit,’ he said, retching one more time before straightening up. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his parka. ‘Otherwise good. What about you? Long time...’
‘Yeah, I’ve been busy with some other stuff,’ Øystein said, looking down at the pool of vomit. ‘Remember I asked you about that party at Markus Røed’s. Told you it was because I was wondering who the other dude selling beak was.’
‘He was handing it out for free, but yeah, what about him?’
‘I probably should have told you that I was asking because I’m working for a private investigator.’
‘Oh?’ Al fastened his blue eyes on Øystein. ‘The cop who was here, Harry Hole?’
‘You know who he is?’
‘I do read the newspapers!’
‘Really? Wouldn’t have thought that.’
‘Not that often, but after you told me about those two girls at the party I’ve been following that particular case.’
‘Have you now?’ Øystein looked around. The square looked the same as always. The same clientele. Tourists looking like tourists, students like students, buyers like buyers. He should stop now. Was supposed to stop now. Or rather, was supposed to leave now. Why did he always have to overdo things, why couldn’t he abide by Keef’s commandment about moderation? All he was meant to do was point out Al in the crowd and distract him slightly. But no, he had to...
