Killing Moon полностью

‘Well, you’re slimmer than he was, even back then,’ Helene said, her head cocked to one side. ‘But you’re the same height and your shoulders are just as broad, so it works.’

She held out the trousers. Didn’t turn round as he changed.

‘Perfect,’ she said, threading the garment bag over the hanger with the other suit. ‘I thank you on behalf of future generations. If there’s nothing else, I have a Zoom meeting now.’

Harry nodded as he accepted the garment bag.

Helene walked him out to the hall and held the door open for him. ‘Actually, I just remembered the one good thing about the Munch Museum,’ she said. ‘Which is Edvard Munch. Go take a look at The Yellow Log. And have a nice day.’

Thanh manoeuvred herself and the advertising board out the door of Mons Pet Shop. She spread the legs of the board, placing it to be clearly visible beside the display window, but not so as to obscure anything. She didn’t want to test Jonathan’s goodwill; after all, the board was advertising her own business within the shop — dog sitting by appointment.

She looked up from the advertising board and saw her reflection in the display window. She was twenty-three now, but still didn’t quite know where she was going. She knew what she wanted to be: a vet. But the entry requirements for veterinary studies in Norway were through the roof; you needed better grades than for medical school, and her parents couldn’t afford to send her to veterinary school abroad. But she and her mother had looked at courses in Slovakia and Hungary, and they might be feasible if Thanh worked at Mons for a couple of years and looked after dogs before and after work.

‘Excuse me, are you the manager?’ a voice said from behind her.

She turned. The man was Asian in appearance but was not from Vietnam.

‘He’s tidying behind the counter,’ she said, pointing to the door.

She inhaled the autumn air and looked around. Vestkanttorget. The fine old apartment buildings, the trees, the park. This was the place to live. But you had to choose, becoming a vet wouldn’t make you rich. And she wanted to be a vet.

She entered the small pet shop. Sometimes people — especially children — would express disappointment when they came in and saw the shelves of animal feed, assorted cages, dog leashes and other equipment. ‘Where are all the animals?’

Then she sometimes took them around to show them what they had. The fish in the aquariums, the cages with hamsters, gerbils and rabbits, and the glass terrariums with insects.

Thanh walked over to the aquariums with the Ancistrus fish. They loved vegetables, and she had brought some dinner leftovers of peas and cucumber from home. She heard the man tell the owner he was from the police, that they had found a Hillman Pets bag dated from after it was banned and asking whether this was something he had any knowledge of since Mons had been the import agent and the sole vendor.

She saw the owner just shake his head mutely. Knew that the policeman had his work cut out if he wanted Jonathan to talk. Because her boss was the introverted, quiet sort. When he did speak it was in short sentences, a little bit like the text messages from her ex-boyfriend, all lower case without punctuation or emojis. And he could come across as ill-tempered or annoyed, as though words were unnecessary encumbrances. In her first few months working here she’d wondered if he didn’t like her. Perhaps it was because she herself came from a family where everyone spoke all at once. Gradually she’d understood that it wasn’t her but him. And that it wasn’t because he didn’t like her. But might be the opposite.

‘I see online that a lot of dog owners think it’s a shame about the importation ban, that Hillman Pets is a lot more effective than the other products on the market.’

‘It is.’

‘Then it’s possible to imagine someone could make a tidy profit by circumventing the ban and selling it under the counter.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Really?’ She saw the policeman waiting, but nothing more came. ‘And you yourself haven’t...?’ the policeman asked tentatively.

Silence.

‘Brought any in?’ the policeman concluded.

When Jonathan answered, it was in such a low and deep tone of voice that it was more like a vibration in the air. ‘Are you asking if I’ve smuggled goods?’

‘Have you?’

‘No.’

‘And you don’t know anything you think might help me find out who could have managed to get hold of a Hillman Pets bag with a best-before date for next year?’

‘No.’

‘No,’ the policeman repeated, rocked on his heels and looked around. Looked around as though he had no intention of giving up, Thanh thought. As though merely pondering his next move.

Jonathan cleared his throat. ‘I can check in the office if I have a note of who ordered it last. Wait here.’

‘Thank you.’