The Last Fix (24 page)

    'Hadn't?'

    'I
mean I wasn't aware she had vanished. I thought she was asleep.'

    'But
she didn't answer the phone.'

    'No,
but she had been ill and had gone home. I assumed she was sleeping.'

    Gunnarstranda
nodded slowly. 'Can anyone confirm that you did not have the cuts on your face
on Sunday?'

    Eidesen
shrugged. Silent. 'Maybe.'

    'Name?'
'If you like I'll write down the names of the people I met on Sunday.'

    'Fine.
You slept. How long did you sleep?'

    'Until
nine, more or less.'

    'Did
you try to get in contact with her?'

    'Yes,
several times. On the phone.'

    'What
were you thinking?'

    'How
do you mean?'

    Gunnarstranda,
irritated: 'Well, you were anxious. What were you thinking? What hypotheses had
you formed in your mind after your girlfriend had stayed away all night and was
ill?'

    'None.'

    'None?'
the policeman gasped.

    Eidesen
stood up and walked around the table. He was two heads taller than the short,
lean policeman with the comb-over and the anthropoid jaw. 'I don't know how you
are supposed to behave in cases like this,' he said in a tremulous voice.

    Frølich
didn't move as his boss still seemed to be in control.

    Eidesen:
'I'm no expert at reactions and feelings, but I have just lost a person of whom
I was fond and if you had any respect left in…'

    'Are
you thinking these thoughts now or did you fear these things on that morning,
too?' the small policeman barked, moving two steps closer to the athlete who
involuntarily retreated. The policeman repeated, 'Did it occur to you on that
morning that something might have happened to Katrine? That she might have been
hurt?'

    'No.'

    'And
why not?'

    'Because…
' Eidesen was quiet, thinking, it appeared.

    'Why?'
Gunnarstranda barked.

    Eidesen
sat down on the sofa with a deep sigh.

    Gunnarstranda
sat down too, took out his packet of roll-ups and found a cigarette for nervous
fingers to fidget with.

    Eidesen
seemed drained, but said nothing.

    'Did
you think she was with someone else?'

    Eidesen
stared out of the window.

    'Come
on,' Gunnarstranda said. 'Your girl stayed out all night. She may have been sick
or unwell and you do nothing, not even check out the people you must have known
were closest to her. You don't report her missing. Even when the news on Sunday
is full of stories about a dead young woman found in Mastemyr, it doesn't ring
a bell with you. It's so obvious why you didn't do anything. You must have
thought she was with someone else, unless you killed her.'

    'What
did you say?' Eidesen's reaction was perhaps divided between shock at the
question and annoyance at Gunnarstranda's aggression.

    'I'm
not saying anything,' the policeman explained, unruffled. 'I'm weighing the
options. Either you were at ease that morning because you knew how things stood
- that she was dead - or you were unconcerned because you had a good reason to
assume nothing had happened. In which case, if you assumed everything was fine
with Katrine, you must have assumed she was elsewhere. Both options are
possible. You look as if you have been fighting with someone with claws…'

    'An
accident,' Eidesen interrupted.

    'Indeed.
And, off the top of your head, you cannot tell me the names of anyone who could
confirm your assertions. But let us suppose you had nothing to do with the
murder. Well, you say you were not concerned about Katrine that morning. So my
question is: Where was she? Or to be more precise: Where did you think she
was?'

    Eidesen
stood there with his head hanging. He was considering the situation. That much
was obvious. When he finally straightened up he did so with a worn, somewhat
resigned expression on his face. 'Henning Kramer,' he mumbled.

    Frølich
coughed and took notes.

    Gunnarstranda:
'Why did you think she was with the conscientious objector?'

    'She
spent a lot of time with him.'

    'A
boyfriend?'

    'According
to Katrine they were… ' Eidesen curled both index fingers,'… just good
friends.'

    'But
you didn't believe that?'

    'Are
you starting again?' Eidesen looked tired.

    Gunnarstranda
shook his head. 'I would like to know your opinion. What kind of relationship
did the two of them have? It makes me especially curious when you assume she
has spent the night with the man. What kind of person is Henning?'

    'What
kind of person?' Eidesen shrugged. 'A skinny guy, long hair, bit of fluff on
the end of his chin, grins a lot, obsessed by philosophy.'

    'Philosophy?'

    'Yes,
philosophical questions, sitting and thinking, writing poems, likes cooking,
obsessed with Buddhist tosh - every woman's dream guy.'

    'Can
I take it that you neither like cooking, writing poems nor debating philosophical
questions?'

    'You
can take whatever you like. But I do not like and have never liked Henning
Kramer. That's no secret.' v.

    'But
you believe he and Katrine were having a relationship.'

    Eidesen
took his time. 'Relationship,' he mumbled. 'I would guess they were very good
friends, as they say. In any case Katrine claimed Henning was a friend and not
a lover. Nevertheless, now and then I did wonder. They seemed to know each
other so well.'

    'Explain.'

    'They
were very intimate with each other, the way married people can be. They did
have something private going between them.'

    'And
you thought she was with Henning that night?'

    'Yes.'

    'You
must have thought there was something going on between them.'

    'She
claimed Henning was like a girlfriend.'

    'A
girlfriend? Is he gay?'

    'Don't
think so, but they were friends.'

    'She
didn't have any girlfriends?'

    'No.'

    'None
at all?'

    'None
that I know of.'

    'Isn't
that strange?'

    'Maybe,
I didn't think about it. She may have had female friends, but I don't know of
anyone close anyway.'

    Gunnarstranda
looked down. 'All right,' he mumbled, then homed in on the young man's eyes
again. 'Were you jealous of Henning?'

    'I
have been.'

    'Were
you that night?'

    'No.'

    'Why
not?'

    'No
idea.'

    'But
you come home at night expecting to find your girlfriend there. She isn't and
you conclude as a matter of course that she is with another man. Yet you are
not jealous?'

    'I wasn't
jealous.'

    'And
I find that a little hard to believe!'

    'Fine,'
snapped Eidesen. 'You want me to be jealous so what the hell does it matter? If
you want, I can say I was. If that makes you feel better. Yes, I can say I was
jealous. Are you happy now?'

    'No!'

    'And
why
not
?' Eidesen stood up and screamed the word into the face of the
policeman, who calmly said, 'Sit down.'

    Eidesen
sat down and Gunnarstranda cleared his throat in a formal-sounding manner. 'I
want to know what happened,' he said in a quiet voice. 'As I mentioned before,
I don't bluff and I don't tell lies. I am a civil servant, that is all, and
have nothing to gain by either bluffing or lying. I only want to do my job,
which is to discover the truth. You have confronted me with two possible
hypotheses. Either you were jealous or you were not jealous. Let's imagine you
were jealous that night. She was found murdered two to three kilometres from
here. Let's say she was on her way here that night. What are the consequences of
this hypothesis? Suppose we say you met outside or that maybe you went out -
restless because she was not here waiting for you. It was beginning to get
light and you met her on the way here. Perhaps you asked where she had been.
Perhaps she admitted what you suspected, that she had been with Kramer. Perhaps
that started a row with a fatal conclusion. That fits the facts of the case
very well - the killer must have been furious with the victim. If the victim
had cheated on or deceived the killer you can understand the fury. Do you
understand? Was that how it happened'

    'No,'
Eidesen said in a resigned tone.

    'She
could have come here,' the policeman continued. 'For all I know, you may have
killed her here, in this chair.'

    Gunnarstranda
sat watching Eidesen running two fingers down the sides of his nose. The
silence persisted.

    Frølich
could feel that he was hungry. As if on cue his stomach rumbled. Both Eidesen
and Gunnarstranda glared at him. Frølich cleared his throat and changed
sitting position.

    'Why
did you let her leave the party so early on her own?' Gunnarstranda asked at
length.

    'The
party? She felt unwell and I was enjoying myself.'

    'But
you were a stranger there, weren't you?'

    'No
more of a stranger than Katrine was.'

    'A
bit more of a stranger than Katrine was. She knew the hosts. You knew no one in
the house.'

    'I
was a guest like everyone else and it was a good party.'

    'Good
in what way?'

    'There
were some good stories told. They were good people.'

    'You
left with, amongst others, this woman, Merethe Fossum. She's about your age,
isn't she?'

    'A
bit younger.' Eidesen's eyes were now those of someone who was concentrating on
not looking away.
^v
'You had a good time. I mean it was just you
two, wasn't it?'

    'It
was packed with people, but we danced a little, chatted a little.'

    'We?
So you were a couple?'

    'We
were not a couple. I was with Katrine!'

    'But
you and this Merethe got on well, had good chemistry even before Katrine left
the party, didn't you?'

    'No.'

    'That
wasn't why Katrine left, was it? Because you were coming on to other women?'

    'I
did not come on to anyone.'

    'But
you danced with her. And you admitted you had a row with Katrine.'

    'We
didn't argue about things like that.'

    'Where
does she live?'

    'Who?'

    'Merethe
Fossum.'

    'In
Gagleberg, on the bend at the start of the road up to Ryenberget, Vеlerenga.'

    'How
do you know?'

    'We
split the fare home. She got out there.'

    Gunnarstranda
motioned to Frølich, who stood up and went to the door. But then he
remembered something. 'One last thing,' Frølich said as his colleague
unbuttoned his jacket and rolled himself a cigarette.

    Eidesen
raised a weary head. 'Yes?'

    'We
know the clothes she was wearing, but this was a party. What jewellery was she
wearing?'

    'Jewellery…'
Eidesen mused. 'A thin gold chain around her neck. Maybe a couple of bracelets.
She had an incredible eye for bracelets. Always wore some round here.' He
illustrated by holding his wrist. 'They jangled. She thought it was cool if
they jangled.'