‘To start at a random place,’ Aune said. ‘But my first thought is that when a woman dies, we can, with quite a high degree of probability, say that it involves someone with close ties, a husband or boyfriend, and that the motive is jealousy or another form of humiliating rejection. When, as is highly likely in this case, there are two murdered women involved, then the chances are the perpetrator has no close ties to either of them, and the motive is sexual. What sets this case apart is that the two victims were at the same place just before they disappeared. On the other hand, if the theory about there being six degrees of separation between everyone on the planet is correct, then it’s not so peculiar after all. Also, we have the fact that a brain and an eye have been removed. That can indicate a killer who takes trophies. So, until we know more, I think we’re looking for a — pardon the cliché — psychopathic sexual murderer.’
‘You sure that’s not just the guy with the hammer?’ Øystein said.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Aune adjusted his glasses as though to take a closer look at the man with the bad teeth.
‘Y’know, when you’ve got a hammer, then all problems look like nails. You’re a psychologist, so you think the solution to every mystery comes down to psycho stuff.’
‘Maybe so,’ Aune said. ‘Eyes are useless when the mind is blind. So, what kind of murder do you think it is, Eikeland?’
Harry could see Øystein chewing on it, because as usual he was actually chewing; his thin, protruding jawbone working back and forth. He cleared his throat as though he was going to spit on Aune and grinned.
‘I think we say that I’m of the same opinion as you, Doctor. And since I don’t have a psycho hammer, I actually think we should place a little more weight on what I think.’
Aune smiled back. ‘Then it’s agreed.’
‘Truls?’ Harry said.
As Harry had half expected, Truls Berntsen — who had only grunted three sentences during the round of introductions — shrugged mutely. Harry did not prolong the policeman’s discomfort and spoke himself.
‘I think there’s a connection between the victims, and that the connection goes through the killer. The removing of body parts may have been done in order to make the police believe they’re dealing with a classic serial killer and trophy hunter, so that they won’t look too closely at other people with more rational motives. I’ve seen this type of diversionary manoeuvre before. I read somewhere that statistically speaking you’ll pass a serial killer on the street seven times during your entire life. Personally, I think that number is too high.’
Harry didn’t particularly believe what he himself had said. He didn’t believe anything. No matter what the opinions of the others were, he would have advanced an alternative hypothesis, just to show them that there were alternatives. It was a matter of training to keep the mind open, not consciously or unconsciously lock on to one specific idea. If that happened, an investigator ran the risk of new information being misinterpreted as confirmation of what the investigator already believed, so-called
Ståle Aune had seemed on relatively good form when they had arrived, but now Harry could see his eyes were becoming glazed, and his wife and daughter were due to visit at eight o’clock. In exactly twenty minutes.
‘When we meet again tomorrow, Truls and I will have questioned Markus Røed. What we find out — or don’t find out — will probably decide how we move forward. OK, gentlemen, the office is closed for the night.’
Snuff bullet
It was nine thirty when Harry walked into the bar on the top floor of the Thief.
He sat down at the counter. Tried to moisten his tongue enough to order. It was the anticipation of this drink that had kept him going until now. It was only supposed to be the one, but at the same time he knew that this plan too would soon unravel.
He looked at the cocktail menu the bartender had put down in front of him. Some of the drinks were named after films, and he assumed that actors or directors from those films had been guests here.
‘Do you—’ he began in Norwegian.
‘Sorry, English.’
‘Do you have Jim Beam?’ he asked in English.
‘Certainly, sir, but might I recommend our own specially made—’
‘No.’
The bartender looked at him. ‘Jim Beam it is.’
