Lethal Investments (24 page)

He pulled the maid down with him in his fall. To the floor. Rolled around with her. She screamed. Not surprisingly, after all he weighed ninety kilos. But he didn’t hear the scream. It drowned in the noise of the shots. Armageddon. He saw only her open mouth and felt the whine transplant itself into his chest. She lay huddled up against the wall. He covered her with his body and suddenly experienced an intense pain in his chest.

Silence at last. Perfect silence. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She reminded him of Katrine. He had met Katrine in a crowd of people around a Midsummer Eve bonfire. They had made love on a small island afterwards. It was the black hair that did it. The hair and the bare skin against his clothes. Jesus, his chest hurt. Bloody hell, she was biting him. ‘Let go,’ he mumbled, and shook her off. She looked up. Stopped biting. At last. Stared up at him, her mouth open wide.

He rolled away from her and round. What a sight! The wall opposite the door was shot to pieces. And there were three men in the door with painted faces, staring eyes and machine guns. The anti-terror unit. This time they had killed a wall.

‘I surrender,’ he whispered. ‘Without a fight. Write that down, in triplicate.’

He struggled to his knees. Looked down at the two lying side by side in death.

Turned his head slowly to the door where Kampenhaug was brusquely pushed aside by a short man with an almost bald skull. Frølich saw Gunnarstranda’s face twitch with irritation, throw him a brief glance, then remove his coat, kneel down by Sonja Hager’s dead body and spread the coat as well as he was able over the two.

The butt of the rifle and Engelsviken’s skinny legs protruded from under the coat.

Frank cleared his throat.

No one said anything.

Desperate. The word had been furnished with content. He straightened up. Saw rather than heard Gunnarstranda cursing madly under his breath. Turned to the naked woman, took off his jacket and rubbed his chest where she had bitten him. Passed her his winter jacket.

Insane. Those round breasts of hers. Two pink nipples staring at him angrily before they were covered by the zip. The large jacket reached to the middle of her thighs. Five long, pink nails clawed at his arm.

‘Shit,’ hissed the little bald man from somewhere at the back.

Frølich couldn’t be bothered to listen. He took the maid with him to the second room and let a second officer take care of her. Got right out of the house, down into the garden. Drew fresh air into his lungs. Leaned against a tree trunk and watched the activity going on around him. Stood like this until Gunnarstranda ambled up with his hands deep in his coat pockets. A roll-up bobbing up and down in his mouth.

They looked at each other.

Gunnarstranda put the cigarette in his pocket. ‘Did it happen fast?’

Frank nodded.

‘Don’t suppose there was much we could have done to prevent it?’

‘No.’

Gunnarstranda looked around. ‘Fair bit of paperwork to do now.’

‘I suppose there will be.’

Gunnarstranda stepped aside to let medical staff past. ‘I reckon we’d better find ourselves an interpreter before we question the young lady who borrowed your jacket.’

Chit-chat, Frank thought. Answered: ‘Yes.’

They continued together down the slope. Stopped at the gate.

‘Whatever anyone says it must have been hell living with the bugger,’ Gunnarstranda sighed.

Frank didn’t speak.

‘Just look at the façade they projected. The cars, the house, the garden . . .

‘And heaps of loneliness,’ Gunnarstranda added. ‘He had her, but she didn’t have anyone.’

They reached the car.

‘That night must have been the last straw.’

‘Rubbish,’ Frank interrupted with heat. ‘About a third of all Norwegian marriages come to an end in a perfectly orderly fashion. All she had to do was get a divorce!’

Gunnarstranda sucked in air. Frank could glimpse a hint of amusement behind his eyes. ‘You mean she could have saved herself the bother?’

His tone of voice sounded sarcastic while a kind of humorous relief settled over his face. ‘Sometimes you never quite get to the bottom of a case, Frølich. Never mind to the bottom of people!’

S’pose not
, mused Frank, drained. But nevertheless he still had to articulate his thoughts:

‘If Sonja Hager suffered such torment, why didn’t she take her fury out on the obvious person closer to home?’

Gunnarstranda gazed up at the house. Opened the car door. ‘She did, in the end,’ he grinned, and got in.