She laughed. Sipped at the glass of wine. Was going to say they had water here, that she could pay. Or even better, that he could borrow her glass and get some from the tap in the toilet, that Oslo tap water was better than anything you got in a bottle, and more environmentally friendly to boot.
‘Where did you have in mind?’ she asked.
‘Does it matter?’
‘No.’ She couldn’t believe her own ears.
‘Good.’ He pressed his palms together. ‘Then let’s go.’
‘Now? I thought you meant after the final act.’
‘We already know how it ends.’
Terse Acto was located in Vika, was obviously newly opened and served tapas at the upper end of upmarket prices.
‘Good?’ Alexandra asked.
‘Very,’ Harry said, patting his mouth with the napkin while trying not to look at her wine glass.
‘I like to think I know Oslo, but I hadn’t heard of this place. It was Helge who recommended we book a table here. Gay men always know best.’
‘Gay? I didn’t pick up those kinds of vibes.’
‘That’s because you’ve lost your mojo.’
‘You mean at one stage I had it?’
‘You? Big time. Didn’t work on everyone, of course. Not that many, truth be told.’ She tilted her head to the side, thoughtfully. ‘Now that I think about it, probably only worked on a few of us.’ She laughed, lifted her wine and clinked his glass of water.
‘So, you think Terry Våge has lost his source, grown desperate and begun making things up?’
Harry nodded. ‘The only way he could know what he professes to know is if he’s in direct contact with the killer. And I don’t see that.’
‘What if he’s his own source?’
‘Mm. That Våge is the killer, you mean?’
‘I read about a Chinese author who murdered four people, wrote about it in several books and was convicted more than twenty years later.’
‘Liu Yongbiao,’ Harry said. ‘And then you’ve got Richard Klinkhamer. His wife disappeared, and shortly afterwards he writes a novel about a man killing his wife and burying her in the garden. And that was where they found her. Both those guys didn’t kill
‘Yes, but Våge could have done it. Heads of state start wars in order to be re-elected or go down in history. Why shouldn’t a journalist do the same so he can be king of the hill? You ought to check if he has an alibi.’
‘OK. Speaking of checking things out. You said you know Oslo. Heard of a place called Villa Dante?’
Alexandra began to laugh. ‘Yeah, sure. You want to head over there to see if you’ve still got it? Although I doubt they’d let you in. Even with those suits you wear these days.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a... how shall I put it... a very exclusive gay club.’
‘You’ve been?’
‘No, are you mad, but I have a gay friend, Peter. He’s actually one of Røed’s neighbours, and invited me to the terrace party.’
‘You were invited to that?’
‘Not formally, it was more the type of party people just come along to. I was planning on taking Helge to fix him up with Peter, but I had to work that night. I have gone with Peter to SLM a few times, though.’
‘SLM?’
‘You’re so not with it, Harry. Scandinavian Leather Man. A gay club for the masses. You need to conform to a dress code there too, and there are dark rooms and whatnot in the basement. A little vulgar for the clientele who are members of Villa Dante, I imagine. Peter told me he’d tried to obtain membership there, but that it was impossible. You had to belong to the inner of the inner circle, a sort of gay Opus Dei. It’s stylish there apparently. Think
‘Above legal age?’
‘Now they probably are. That was why the club had to shut down back when it was called Tuesdays. A fourteen-year-old who was working there accused one of the guests of rape. We got a sperm sample, but no match on the database, of course.’
‘Of course?’
‘The clientele of Tuesdays weren’t the kind to have previous convictions. Anyway, now it’s reopened as Villa Dante.’
‘Which no one seems to have heard of.’
‘They operate under the radar, they don’t need the publicity. That’s the reason people like Peter are so obsessed with gaining admittance.’
‘You said it used to be called Tuesdays.’
‘Yeah, they had the club night on a Tuesday.’
‘And they still do?’
‘I can ask Peter, if you like.’
‘Mm. What would it take for me to gain access, you think?’
She laughed. ‘A court order, a search warrant, probably. Which, incidentally, I hereby grant you with regard to myself tonight.’
It took Harry a moment before he understood what she meant. He raised an eyebrow.
‘Yep,’ she said, lifting her glass. ‘As in order.’
‘Do you live out here?’ Helene asked.
