KATRINE HAD TROUBLE CONCENTRATING DURINGthe press conference, where they gave a brief account ofthe victim‘s identity, age, where and when she was found,
but that was about it. The firstpressconferences imme-diately after a murder were almost always a matter ofsaying as little as possible and simply going through themotions, in the name of modern, open democracy.
Alongside her sat the head of Crime Squad, GunnarHagen. The flashlights reflected off the shiny bald patchabove his ring of dark hair as he read out the short sen-tences they had composed together. Katrine was happy tolet Hagen do the talking. No
t that she didn‘t like the spot
se‘, and swearingus sign.
‘Maybe we should stop now,‘ he whispered, lettinof her. ‘The garden calls.‘
"Too late,‘ she hissed.
He unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them andpants down to her knees, just above her boots. She learforward and grabbed hold of the windowsill withhand, and was about to take the sun hat off withother.
‘No,‘ he whispered, leaning fo
id she want1o called her.‘
Katrine stopped sorting her papers.
‘I told her my conditions for agreeing to be interviewedabout Valentin Gjertsen,‘ Smith said. "That I‘ll talk aboutValentin Gjertsen in general terms, and that I won‘t saya thing about the investigation. It‘s a so-called podcast asort of radio programme that-
"I know what a podcast is, Smith.‘
So at lengt
Katrine looked intently at the thin face. Brown hair,
deep-set eyes. Unless it just appeared that way becausehe was jutting his forehead forward, meaning that thelight fell in a particular way. Katrine couldn‘t help think-ing it was odd that the police photographer had letValentin get away with it. And then there was his expres-sion. Custody pictures usually showed fear, confusion orresignation. But he looked contented. As if ValentinGjertsen knew something they didn‘t know. Didn‘tknow yet.
Harry let the face sink in for a few secon
Looked at the envelope.
Dolmen, not Hermansen.
He hunted through the drawer until he found thecontaining the interviews from the phone list, then tocand the envelope back to the desk. He leafed throughprintouts until he found the name again. Lenny Hel.
remembered the name because it had made him thinLemmy, even if the guy he had spoken to over the plhad sounded more like a terrified bastard with that trein his voice that so many people - regardless of howcent they were - got when they found out it was thecalling them. So, Lenny Hell had been in touch with
aimed the revolver at the forehead of the nearest person.
"Get up! he snarled. ‘And the rest of you remainseated!
Katrine saw a blonde woman stand up. Smith turnedher round so that she was standing in front of him like ashield. It was Ulla Bellman. Her mouth was open andshe was looking in mute despair at a man in the frontrow. Katrine could only see the back of Mikael Bellman‘shead and had no idea what his face was expressing, onlythat he was sitting there as if frozen to the spot. Therewas a whimpering sound. It came from May Smith.
She was leaning sideways slightly in her chair.
‘Letgoof her.‘
It was Truls
keep dewas SHarry lay in the bottom of the boat, looking up. People‘s usedfaces, the helicopter that was blocking the sun, the bluesky. He had managed to stamp his foot down on theWhirevolver again before Hallstein Smith pulled it free. Andthen Hallstein seemed to give up. Maybe it was hisimagination, but he had thought he could feel throughthe teeth, in his mouth, how the other man‘s pulsebecame weaker and weaker. Until in the end it was gonealtogether. Harry had lost consciousness twice before hemanaged to get his hands and the handcuffs round to thefront of his body again, loosened the seat belt and fishedTrou to the handcuffs out of his jacket pocket. The car1
to interfere with her privilegesand lifestyle on the few occasions he had found out thatshe had been unfaithful. Which of course was before shehad established the principle of not being unfaithful.
‘Why isn‘t a beautiful woman like you married?"
The words sounded like they were being ground out.
and Wenche turned to face the old man on the bicycleHe smiled at her. His face was thin, with wrinkles likedeep valleys, big lips and long, thick, greasy hair. He wasthin, but broad-shouldered. A bit like Mick Jagger. Apartfrom his red bandanna and truck driver‘s moustache.
d and raised her ringless right hand
|