Truls looked at him. Tried to picture Harry in the good-cop role but gave up. Years ago, back when Truls and Mikael Bellman had been partners on the force, Bellman had always been the good cop. He was bloody good at it too, and not just in interviews, the smart, sneaky bastard. So good he was now Minister of Justice. It was fucking unbelievable, considering all the shit the two of them had got up to. On the other hand, it almost made perfect sense. No one had Mikael Bellman’s ability to bury their hands so deep in shit without getting them dirty.
There was a knock at the door.
They had given word to reception to send Røed up when he arrived.
As agreed beforehand, Truls opened.
Røed was smiling, but seemed nervous, Truls thought. His skin and eyes were shiny. Truls showed him in without introducing himself or shaking his hand. Harry took care of the pleasantries, saying they wouldn’t take up much of Røed’s time, asking him to remove his jacket and unbutton his shirt. He held out his hand until Røed passed him his jacket, which Harry hung in the wardrobe. Truls started to attach the electrodes. Placing them to avoid the stripes of scabs above and below both nipples. There were also a couple of bruises. Either Røed had taken a beating from someone, or else that wife of his was a real savage in bed. Or maybe it was one of the girls he provided for.
After Truls had attached the last electrodes to the wrists, he went round to Harry’s side of the desk, sat down, pressed the enter key, and looked at the screen of the laptop.
‘Does it look all right?’ Harry asked.
Truls nodded.
Harry turned to Røed. ‘The questions will be mainly yes or no; polygraph tests are best suited to the analysis of short answers. Ready?’
Røed’s smile appeared a little forced. ‘Fire away, guys, I’ve got to leave in half an hour.’
‘Is your name Markus Røed?’
‘Yes.’
There was a pause, while they looked at Truls, who was looking at the screen. He gave a short nod.
‘Are you a man or a woman?’ Harry asked.
Røed smiled. ‘A man.’
‘Can I hear you say you’re a woman?’
‘I’m a woman.’
Harry looked at Truls, who nodded again.
Harry cleared his throat. ‘Did you kill Susanne Andersen?’
‘No.’
‘Did you kill Bertine Bertilsen?’
‘No.’
‘Have you had sex with one or both of these women?’
The room went silent. Truls saw Markus Røed beginning to blush. Saw him gasp. And sneeze. Twice. Three times. Harry tore off a square of kitchen roll and held it out. Markus Røed reached to the back of the chair as though for his jacket — no doubt had a handkerchief there — before he accepted the paper towel and wiped his nose on it.
‘Yes, I have,’ he said, throwing the paper towel in the wastebasket Harry lifted up. ‘With both of them. But it was consensual for all parties involved.’
‘At the same time?’
‘No, I’m not into that sort of thing.’
‘Did Susanne and Bertine know each other?’
‘Not to my knowledge. No, I’m fairly sure they didn’t.’
‘Because you made sure that they didn’t meet?’
Røed let out a brief laugh. ‘No, I never hid the fact I was seeing other women. And I invited them both to the party, didn’t I?’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did either of these women extort you for money?’
‘No.’
‘Did they threaten to expose your relationship?’
Røed shook his head.
‘Please respond verbally,’ Harry said.
‘No. My relationships were not so secret as to matter. Not that I wanted them to be public knowledge, but I didn’t make much effort to hide them either. Even Helene was aware of them.’
‘Do you think she might have been jealous and killed them?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Helene is a rational woman. She wouldn’t consider the risk of getting caught as being worth the upside.’
‘The upside?’
‘Well. Revenge.’
‘Or killing them to keep you.’
‘No. She knows I’d never leave her for a bimbo. Or two. But that I might if she tried to curtail my freedom.’
‘When did you last meet Susanne or Bertine?’
‘At the party.’
‘And prior to that?’
‘Prior to that it had been a long time since I’d seen them.’
‘Why did you stop seeing them?’
‘I lost interest, I suppose.’ Røed shrugged. ‘The physical aspect is always enticing, but the shelf life of girls like Susanne and Bertine isn’t the same as Helene Røed, if you follow me.’
‘Mm. Did you and or the girls take any controlled substances at the party?’
‘Drugs? Not me, anyway.’
Harry looked at Truls. Truls gave a small shake of his head.
‘You sure?’ Harry said. ‘What about cocaine?’
Truls could feel Markus Røed’s eyes on him but didn’t lift his own gaze from the screen.
‘All right,’ Røed said. ‘The girls had a couple of lines.’
‘Their own cocaine or yours?’
‘There was a guy who brought some.’
‘Who was he?’
‘I don’t know. A friend of one of the neighbours or a guy they buy off, maybe, I don’t know about that sort of thing. If it’s cocaine dealers you’re after, I can’t give you a description either unfortunately, as he was wearing a face mask and sunglasses.’ Røed allowed himself a wry grin, but Truls could see he was irritated. Alpha males tended to be under questioning.
‘But was he white, Norwegian, or—’
‘Yes, white. Sounded Norwegian.’
