Jibran Sethi lowered his book. ‘If it had been a bloodhound or an Alsatian, then yes. But a bulldog has a very poor sense of smell for a canine. They’re actually at the bottom of the list. That’s what happens when we breed dogs to fight bulls, and not to hunt as nature intended.’ The vet raised his book again. ‘Perverse, but that’s the sort of thing we do.’
‘Thanks, Jibran,’ Aune said.
The vet gave him a brief nod.
‘Maybe he’s buried Bertine,’ Truls said.
‘Or dumped her in one of the lakes up there,’ Øystein added.
Harry sat looking at the vet while the voices of the other three men sounded like they were fading out. Felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
‘Harry!’
‘What?’
It was Aune. ‘We said: “What do you think?”’
‘I think... do you have the number of the farmer who sent in that tip-off, Øystein?’
‘No. But we have his name, and Wenggården, so it’s no problem to find it.’
‘Gabriel Weng.’
‘Good afternoon, Weng. This is Hansen, Oslo Police. Just a quick question regarding the information you called in with last week. You said your dog was barking, and that you thought there could be a carcass or a corpse nearby?’
‘Yes, sometimes dead animals can lie out here rotting in the woods. But I’d read about the girl who was missing, and Skullerud isn’t so far away, so when the dog started barking and howling in that particular way, I called you. But I never heard anything back.’
‘Apologies, it takes time to follow up on all the leads we have on a case like this.’
‘Yes, yes, you found the girl of course, poor thing.’
‘What I was wondering,’ Harry said, ‘is whether your dog is still making those sorts of noises.’
There was no reply but he could hear the farmer breathing.
‘Weng?’ Harry said.
‘Was it Hansen you said your name was?’
‘That’s right. Hans Hansen. Constable.’
Another pause.
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes, he’s still making those sorts of noises.’
‘OK, thank you, Weng.’
Sung-min Larsen stood looking at Kasparov, who had positioned himself at the wall of a building with his hind leg raised. Sung-min already had the plastic bag in hand so passers-by would understand he had no intention of leaving dog waste lying among the expensive apartment buildings in Nobels gate.
He was thinking. Not so much about the brain being removed as about the fact the scalp had been sewn back up. What did it mean that the person who had taken the brain had tried to conceal the fact? Trophy hunters didn’t usually care. And the killer must have realised it would be discovered, so why take the trouble? Was it to clean up after himself? A fastidious killer? It wasn’t as far-fetched as it might sound — the rest of the crime scene had been cleansed of the evidence you usually found. Apart from the saliva on Susanne’s breast. The killer had made a mistake there. Granted there were those on the investigative team who thought the spit had to have come from someone other than the killer, since Susanne’s upper body had been clothed when they found her. But if the killer was neat enough to sew the scalp back on, why not put all the clothes back on the body too?
His mobile rang. Sung-min looked in surprise at the display before he tapped Accept.
‘Harry Hole? It’s been a while.’
‘Yeah, time marches on.’
‘I read in
‘Yeah. I’ve tried calling Katrine a couple of times, but her phone is going straight to voicemail.’
‘Putting the child to bed, maybe.’
‘Maybe. Anyway, I have some information I thought you’d want as soon as possible.’
‘OK?’
‘I just spoke with a farmer living out in the forest who says his bulldog smells a carcass in the vicinity. Or a corpse.’
‘A bulldog? Then it’s not far off, bulldogs have—’
‘A poor sense of smell, so I’ve been told.’
‘Yes. A carcass in the forest isn’t unusual, so since you’re calling I’m guessing this is in Grefsenkollen?’
‘No. In Østmarka. Six or seven kilometres from where Susanne was found. Doesn’t have to mean anything of course. Like you say, large animals die in the woods all the time. But I wanted to let you know. As you haven’t found Bertine in Grefsenkollen, I mean.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ Sung Min said. ‘I’ll notify the team. Thanks for the tip-off, Harry.’
‘No problem. I’ll forward you the number of the farmer now.’
