The Last Fix (15 page)

    'Katrine
never understood that it is pointless to escape into freedom,' Kramer said, and,
roused, turned around: 'Freedom is not a state of mind or somewhere you can
escape to. Freedom has to be grasped; it's here, inside yourself, and you find
it in the things you do and think. It's about being your own master and master
of the situation you find yourself in. You can't escape to freedom, only from
it. It's only when you stand up and accept the world as it is, place yourself
in it and grasp your own reality that you are free.'

    Frølich
stifled a yawn. Then he glanced up from his notepad. Kramer was out of breath,
excited. Frølich looked down at the blank page in his pad and jotted in
his neat handwriting:
Remember to ring Eva-Britt before four.
Julie,
Eva-Britt's daughter, had a place in an after-school care centre in Majorstuen.
Eva-Britt had a special meeting on Tuesdays and they had a tacit agreement that
Frank would collect Julie on these days. But the timing was bad. He would have
to send her a message.

    As
Frank couldn't think of any other things he needed to remember, he cleared his
throat and asked in a toneless voice, 'But that's what Katrine was doing,
wasn't she? From what I've understood she was ridding herself of illusions, she
was officially clean and had a job with a travel agency.'

    'She
couldn't cut the mustard though because she couldn't be with normal people.'

    'What
do you mean?' Frank asked, elated to have steered the conversation away from
abstractions.

    'She
couldn't be normal. She wasn't capable of it. It made her feel sick at that
bloody party of theirs; she couldn't take the reality they had to offer.'

    'So
you don't think she was really ill at the party?'

    'She
was no more ill than I am now!'

    'You
mean she threw up because she could not take their reality?'

    'Yes.'

    'But
what was it that she couldn't take? In concrete terms.'

    'What?'
Henning's smile was sardonic, caustic. 'She didn't want to be like
them
!'

    'Them?'

    Kramer's
eyes flashed. 'She hated the thought of signing up to a culture where you
change your personality as you change your clothes. These so-called
models
that Vinterhagen serves up,
they
waltz off from a job where
they
preach for a natural release of endorphins in the brain, where
they
repeat
time after time how dangerous drugs are, how empowering it is to tell the
truth, to admit to your own mistakes and to recognize that life in itself is
one long intoxication, then
they
waltz off and don another dress, or
suit, or hat, and instead of evangelizing that same claptrap
they
get
plastered over supper before daring to say a few words of truth to each other
and drink even more so that
they
can shag each other behind the bushes
and blame the booze afterwards. Don't you see?'

    'Aren't
you one of these models yourself?'

    'I
hope not.'

    Frølich
watched him, unsure about how to continue. 'I understand what you're saying
about seeing through double standards,' he said. 'But this person was an adult,
academically bright by all accounts and she had a past on the streets. She must
have known what the world was like, how it worked. She can't have thrown up
because her hypotheses proved to be correct.'

    'You're
mistaken there,' Kramer said in a gentle tone. 'That is the precise reason why
she spewed up. She spewed up the two of them: Bjørn and Annabeth.'

    'Why?'

    'Because…'
Henning Kramer hesitated and fell silent.

    'Tell
me.'

    'Once
upon a time she screwed Bjørn Gerhardsen while she was whoring to get
money for dope.'

    Frank's
brow furrowed with scepticism. That particular piece of information stank. He
underlined his own perception by pulling a face and shaking his head.

    'It's
true,' the other man retorted - before continuing in a calmer key: 'Well, I
don't give a shit whether you believe me or not. The point is that she
recognized the guy from the past, and that's fine. Annabeth s is not that sexy,
I suppose, so her old man rents himself a tart now and then. He's not alone in
doing that. But the problem was that the guy didn't appreciate that he had to
keep a low profile. My God, it traumatized her. She did have sex on the odd
occasion, but it was a difficult thing for her. And then the guy turns it on
and wants her again, right, for nothing, behind one of the bushes in the garden.'

    'That
night? At the party?'

    'Precisely.'

    'Are
you sure about that?' the policeman snapped.

    'She
told me.'

    'What
did she say? Her exact words.'

    
'He
tried it on. Mr Nice Guy.
Those were the words she used. And that was all
we said about the matter.'

    'That
was all she said.
Mr Nice Guy
?
'

    'We
had talked about this business before, that she had, well… recognized
Gerhardsen and so on. Both Annabeth and Bjørn are pretty pathetic,
right, in their way, and when we talked about them… well, from then on we
called him Mr Nice Guy. It was a bit like an internal code between two people.
We joked about it because during the day he's the Vinterhagen chairman and
during the night he buys himself a chunk of potential patients. We dubbed him
Mr Nice Guy. Ironic, of course.'

    Frølich
studied his notes. 'And when did she tell you this?'

    'After
the party.'

    Frølich
straightened up in his chair.

    'There
was something special about that night, you see. I drove up to collect her. She
called me.'

    'She
called you? When?'

    'Saturday
night. Around twelve. I was sleeping in front of the TV. She woke me, called me
on my mobile.'

    Frølich,
excited: 'And you drove there to collect her?'

    'Yes

    'What
make is your car?'

    'I
don't have a car. It was my brother's. He's abroad at some seminar. In the
Philippines. I'm allowed to borrow his car when he's off on a trip. An Audi.
She came to meet me in the road, wearing the same gear, right, provocative -
her skirt was transparent with the street light behind her - her dream clothes.
At that moment she saw herself as some chick in a promo video and she jumped
over the car door. She didn't open the door - it's a convertible, you see, and
then she tied her blouse around her hair, no, that was afterwards, but what I'm
trying to say is that she got off on the car trip, on the night, on-being in an
open car with me. Her hair was blowing into her face, right, round the bends
down Holmenkollen, and she cast around for something to tie her hair with, but
she had nothing, so she took off her top, with just a black bra underneath, and
that gave her a kick, sitting there in her bra. That was the dream.
Like
feelin' free.
We drove down to Aker Brygge, to the McDonald's. It was her
idea, and we ate there. She wanted a cheeseburger and stood there dressed as
she was. It was like the fulfilment of this dream. Like… like… Christ, someone
should have strung up that word
like.
I am so sick and tired of saying
it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure she was a millimetre away from shooting up that
night. She was high, really high, and when I asked, before we took off from
Aker Brygge, what had happened like, or why she was so high, she ignored me,
just for a second. I could see she didn't want to talk about it because she
didn't want to come down from the clouds she was on, if I can say that. She
like saw me for a second and said:
Mr Nice Guy. He tried it on…
And I
just stood looking at her.'

    'And
then?'

    'Then
we took the E6 - the old Mossevei - almost as far as Ingierstrand.'

    'And?'

    'I
parked there.'

    'In
Ingierstrand?'

    'No,
I stopped there at first, but we weren't on our own. After a while another car
parked in the large car park there, so we drove on to the Mosseveien crossing
and turned right, out towards Lake Gjer, past Tyrigrava. We stopped in a car
park not far from the E18, facing the lake, very nice spot.'

    'And?'

    'Then
we talked.'

    'What
about?'

    'Life
in general.'

    'Not
the party?'

    'Not
a word.'

    'Nothing
about her, about what had happened that day?'

    'No,
just about dreams.'

    And
then?'

    'Then
we had sex.'

    'I
thought she was with a guy called Ole Eidesen.'

    Henning
Kramer shrugged.

    'Were
you jealous of Eidesen?'

    'Not
in the slightest, more the other way around - he was jealous of me… perhaps.'
^v
'Why should he have been?'

    'Katrine
was more open with me, I suppose, and he suspected us of sleeping together now
and then.'

    'Did
you?'

    'Now
and then.'

    Frølich
chewed his biro and waited.

    'Not
that often, only when she wanted it. The last time was a long time ago now,
many weeks ago.'

    'Did
you think of the relationship as love?'

    'Of
course.'

    'Let
me be precise,' Frank said, sitting up erect. 'I'm asking you if you wanted a
so-called official relationship with her, just the two of you.'

    'It
was just the two of us. She always came back to me. But I was the one who
didn't want her so close. In that way we were closet on a soul level.'

    'On a
soul level?'

    'Yes.'

    'With
a bit of body now and then?'

    'Yes.'

    'But
that night who took the initiative? Who suggested intercourse?'

    'She
did.'

    Frank
was silent.

    'It's
incorrect to say
suggested.
It was in the air.

    You
could say that we like had sex from the moment she sat in the car. Making love
was just a kind of conclusion - the final bit that was missing.'

    'Did
you use contraceptives?'

    'No.'

    'Where
did you make love?'

    'In
the car.'

    'That
night you say she was wearing a black bra and a top?'

    'A
blouse, black, and a skirt.'

    'Was
she wearing anything else?'

    'Not
as far as I know.'

    'No
panties?'

    'I
didn't see her taking them off.'

    'So
she was walking around naked under her skirt?'

    'No,
she was wearing them. She pushed them to the side… if we have to be technical.'

    'So
she was dressed when you were having sex?'

    'Yes,
that is, she was wearing a skirt and I folded down her bra.'

    'And
the blouse?'

    'She
put that back on later.'

    'When?'

    Kramer
frowned as he deliberated. 'When I drove her home,' came the eventual answer.
*- 'Was that long afterwards?'

    'Maybe
an hour or two. We slept for a while, at least I did.'

    'How
long did you sleep?'

    'I
woke up at just after half past two. She had left the car. She woke me up as
she got back in.'

    'And
you're sure it was half past two?'

    '02:37.1
looked at the clock in the car.'

    'And
she'd been out?'