‘If I give you an address on Doheny Drive, could you check on her for me? If she’s not there, you should probably contact the police.’
There was a pause.
‘OK, Harry, I’m jotting it down.’
After the call, Harry walked to the Mercedes parked behind the old German bunkers. Sat on the bonnet next to Øystein again, lit up a cigarette and continued from where they had left off while the music streamed out of the two open car windows. About all the others and what had become of them, about the girls they never got, about the dreams that didn’t shatter but faded away like a half-baked song or a long joke without a punchline. About the life they chose or the life that chose them, which was one and the same, since you — as Øystein said — can only play the hand you’re dealt.
‘It’s warm,’ Øystein said, after they had sat in silence for a while.
‘Old engines give the best heat,’ Harry said, patting the bonnet.
‘No, I meant the weather. I thought it was over but the warm weather’s back. And tomorrow that there will be eclipsed by blood.’ He pointed up at a pale full moon.
Harry’s phone rang. ‘Talk to me.’
‘So it’s true,’ Sung-min said. ‘You really do answer the phone like that.’
‘I saw it was you and was just trying to live up to the myth,’ Harry said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m at the Forensic Medical Institute. And to be completely honest, I don’t quite know what’s going on.’
‘Oh yeah? Are the press onto you about the death of the suspect?’
‘Not yet, we’re holding off a little before making it public. Until he’s identified.’
‘If he’s really named Kevin Selmer, you mean? Øystein here called him Al.’
‘No, if the man we found dead in cell 14 is the same man we brought in.’
Harry pressed the phone harder against his ear. ‘What do you mean, Larsen?’
‘His legal counsel has disappeared. He was alone in the cell with Kevin Selmer. Five minutes after he arrived, he left again. If it was him. The man who left was wearing a face mask and the lawyer’s clothes, but the shift commander of the Custody Unit thought the person seemed different.’
‘You think that Selmer...’
‘I don’t know what I think,’ Sung-min said. ‘But yeah, it’s possible Selmer might have escaped. That he killed Beckstrøm, smashed his face in, switched clothes and just walked out of there. That the corpse we’re sitting with is Beckstrøm, not Al. Or Selmer, that is. The face is totally beyond recognition, we can’t find any friends or relatives of Kevin Selmer who know him well enough to identify him. And on top of that, Beckstrøm is nowhere to be found.’
‘Mm. Sounds a bit far-fetched, Larsen. I know Dag Beckstrøm, he’s probably gone off the deep end. You have heard about Judgement Dag?’
‘Eh, no.’
‘Beckstrøm has a reputation for having a rather sensitive nature. If a case has upset him he goes out and drinks, and then he turns into Judgement Dag and pronounces verdicts on all and sundry. Sometimes for days. That’s probably what happened here.’
‘Well, let’s hope so. We’ll find out soon enough, Beckstrøm’s wife is on her way over here. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.’
‘OK. Thanks.’
Harry hung up. They sat in silence listening to Rufus Wainwright singing ‘Hallelujah’.
‘I think I might have underrated Leonard Cohen,’ Øystein said. ‘And overrated Bob Dylan.’
‘Easily done. Put out the fag, we need to go.’
‘What’s happening?’ Øystein asked, hopping off the bonnet.
‘If Sung-min is right, Markus Røed could be in danger.’ Harry swung into the passenger seat. ‘Krohn called while you were in the bushes taking a piss. Røed’s gone on a bar crawl and wants my company. I said no but maybe we need to find him all the same. Dronning Eufemias gate.’
Øystein turned the key in the ignition. ‘Can you say step on it, Harry?’ He revved the engine. ‘Please?’
‘Step on it,’ Harry said.
Markus Røed lurched to the side, took a step to steady himself, and stared down at the glass on the table in front of him.
