The Last Fix (19 page)

    Frank
Frølich saw the man sitting on the chair outside number 211 as soon as
he turned into the corridor. It had to be Bjørn Gerhardsen. He was
punctual but still appeared impatient, with his arms folded in front of his
chest and one foot bouncing up and down in annoyance. Frølich looked
ahead, passed him without a nod and continued on to the next door. Here he
turned and glanced at Gerhardsen before entering.

    The
figure reminded him of one of the boys you find in the back row of the
classroom, the type with ambitious parents and no spine. He seemed to be
generating an image of himself from those times - rocking the chair, wearing
designer clothing and puffing himself up with arrogance.

    Frølich
closed the door behind him and crept back to room 211 to write up his notes.
Gerhardsen could wait a bit longer.

    Ten
minutes later there was a ring from reception.

    'Hi,
Frankie. There's a man standing here, name of Bjørn Gerhardsen. He was
supposed to appear in front of room 211 at half past three.'

    'Ask
him to take a seat outside 211 and wait,' Frølich said without mincing
his words and went on with the report.

    The
next time he looked up it was ten minutes to four. Gerhardsen was a patient
man. Five minutes later there was a knock at the door.

    Frølich
swung round in his chair and watched the door. The handle went down slowly.

    The
policeman pretended to glance up from his papers as the door opened.

    'Hello,
I'm Bjørn Gerhardsen,' the man in the doorway said, unsure of himself.

    Frølich
looked up at the clock on the wall. Then, with raised eyebrows, he looked at
Gerhardsen.

    'I've
been waiting since half past three,' the man said.

    'I
see,' said Frølich, getting up. 'I thought you would never come. Well,
take a seat,' he said, pointing to an armchair beside his desk. 'Frank Frølich,'
he went on, proffering his hand.

    Gerhardsen
sat down. He was business-like, but at the same time casually dressed in a dark
suit jacket and lighter slacks, chinos, an expensive brand.

    Beneath
the jacket he was wearing a garish yellow shirt and a tie that created a
natural transition to the colour of the jacket.

    'I'm
sure you understand why we would like to talk to you.'

    'Yes,
indeed.' Gerhardsen cleared his throat. 'Do you mean… you've been waiting for
me since half past three?'

    Frølich
glanced up from his papers, indifferent to his question. 'You are married to
Annabeth s?'

    'Yes.'

    'And
on the Saturday Katrine Bratterud disappeared you had both invited a great many
guests to a party. Could you start by telling me your experience of this
party?'

    Gerhardsen
fixed him with a glassy look indicating that he was not used to being insulted
in this way. The look also said that he was not sure whether he would tolerate
the insult. In the end he made a decision, closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
Then he cleared his throat and said: 'There isn't much to tell. It was a
successful party, easy-going, nice atmosphere. I think that was true for most
people, at any rate.'

    Frølich
nodded. 'What sort of party was it? What was the occasion?'

    'Just
a private party. Annabeth and I invited good friends over for some food and
wine.'

    'But
most of the guests had some kind of connection with the Vinterhagen centre,
isn't that correct?'

    'Yes,
it is. In that sense I suppose it marked summer - it was a kind of summer
party.'

    'But
not everyone was invited?'

    'No,
I guess it was the inner core. All that side of things was Annabeth's domain.'

    'And
Katrine Bratterud.'

    'Yes,
as you know, she had completed the programme at the rehab centre. She was due
to be formally discharged, if that is the term they use. In fact, I don't know
much about the details of these procedures.'

    'You're
the chairman there?'

    'Yes,
but not a therapist. I trained as an economist and economics is my professional
field.'

    'I
see. You're the CEO of a financial institute?'

    'Geo-Invest
A/S.'

    'Katrine
was not a close friend?'

    'Yes,
she was, a good friend. That was one of the reasons she was invited. She had
been a part of Annabeth's working day for years. And… ' He opened his palms.
'What is there to say? She was attractive, she… had style, was talented… was
intelligent… and had the best references from the travel agency where she
worked.'

    Frølich
nodded to himself and scratched his beard. 'We can come back to that,' he
mumbled and asked, 'Did you notice anything in particular about Katrine that
evening?'

    'She
was ill.'

    Frølich
looked up.

    'Yes,
she felt sick and threw up, I believe… there was a bit of a hubbub around this
Incident. My guess is it happened at around eleven. At any rate, it was a while
after we had left the table. We always stay at the dinner table for a long
time… I didn't see what happened, but I understand that Annabeth spoke to her…'

    Gerhardsen
stopped as the door behind him opened. He turned in his chair. Police Inspector
Gunnarstranda came in and stood in front of the mirror on the wall arranging
his comb-over. 'Bjørn Gerhardsen,' Frølich said to Gunnarstranda
and to the man: 'Police Inspector Gunnarstranda.'

    The
two of them shook hands. Gunnarstranda sat on the edge of the desk.

    Gerhardsen
asked: 'Should I continue?'

    As
the other two made no attempt to answer, he said: 'Annabeth had been talking to
her when someone came from behind. Anyway one or two bot- des of wine were
smashed. As I said I didn't see anything but Annabeth was covered in…'

    'You
don't know who it was?'

    'Pardon.'

    'The
person who collided with your wife, you don't know who it was?'

    'No.'

    Frølich
motioned for him to go on.

    'Well,
there was a lot of mess, and then Katrine must have fainted, I suppose. Her
boyfriend was there and helped her into the bathroom. Then I heard she had left
after the incident because she didn't feel well.'

    Gunnarstranda
was fidgeting with a packet of chewing gum. The packet wouldn't open. With an
irritated yank he broke the packet in two and put two pieces of gum in his
mouth. He leaned over, rested his chin on one hand and listened with interest.
His chin rotated like a sheep's lower jaw.

    Frølich
to Gerhardsen: 'But you didn't see this happen?'

    'No.'

    'Where
were you?'

    'I
was round about, somewhere or other. I was the host after all.' 'Did you notice
Katrine leave? When did that happen? How did it happen?'

    'No.
That is - I did register that she was quarrelling with her boyfriend.'

    'Quarrelling?'

    'Yes,
that was after the wine incident, or the fainting or whatever I should call it.
I passed them in the hallway. Needed… well, I needed… a pee. They were having a
row.'

    'A
row?'

    'Yes,
or so it seemed, but they went quiet as I passed them, and then I heard them
start up again as I closed the door. But I have no idea what they were rowing
about.'

    'Did
you talk to Katrine at any point during this party?'

    'A
little. We sat together at table, or opposite each other, so we talked or to be
more precise, we made conversation.'

    'How
long did the party last?'

    'Until
about four o'clock in the morning. That was when the last guests left.'

    'Can
you remember who the last ones were?'

    'There
were quite a few in fact. Some were being picked up. There was a lot of fuss
with taxis and so on. Some had to wait for taxis. But there were some who went
before, earlier in the evening, though I certainly didn't notice who went
when.'

    Frølich
conferred with his notes. 'How can you know that when you weren't there?' he
asked breezily.

    Gerhardsen
gave him a hard look. 'I was there in fact,' he answered.

    'We
have heard that you left the party soon after coffee was served, with a certain
Georg Beck and a number of others.'

    'Yes,
indeed, that is correct. But I was back before four.'

    'By
taxi?'

    'No,
I drove one of the company cars.'

    The
two policemen exchanged glances. Gerhardsen noticed and coughed. 'We have two
cars belonging to Geo-Invest, a van and a smaller saloon - a Daihatsu. Since
I'm the CEO I can use the cars on the odd occasion. That night I took one to
drive home - so that I didn't have to queue for a taxi.'

    He
coughed and continued as the two detectives still made no move to interrupt.
'We have offices in Munkedamsveien. These two cars are in the garage and I
couldn't bear the thought of waiting for several hours in the taxi queue, so I
unlocked the garage and drove the saloon car home.'

    Frølich
cleared his throat. 'Were you intoxicated?'

    Gerhardsen
shrugged. 'I presumed I was not over the limit.'

    'But
you had been drinking alcohol and continued drinking all night.'

    Gerhardsen
returned a flinty stare. 'I presumed I was not over the limit.'

    'Who
left the party earlier in the evening?' Gunnarstranda interrupted. 'Who else
apart from you?'

    'There
was Goggen, Georg that is. Then there was his boyfriend - a man whose name I
don't recall, but Annabeth knows him through some connection or other. Then
there was another woman who was a temporary teacher at the centre during the
winter at some point. Her name's Merethe Fossum. And then there was Katrine's
boyfriend - Ole. Can't remember his surname.'

    'When
did you leave?'

    'At
midnight, more or less.'

    'Where
did you go?'

    'We
went to Smuget.'

    Gunnarstranda
sent an inquiring look to Frølich, who explained: 'Restaurant at the
bottom of Rosenkrantz gate.'

    'That's
just by Aker Brygge, isn't it,' Gunnarstranda said.

    'Walking
distance,' acceded Gerhardsen. 'Right across from the City Hall square.'

    'What
happened then?'

    'Well,
we went to Smuget. And split up.'

    'Split
up? What do you mean?'

    'Mm,
there are several rooms there. In one of them there was a blues band, in
another disco music. There were all kinds of music and it was packed. We went
our own ways.'

    'And
what did you do?'

    'I
circulated a bit, had a few beers and a few mineral waters, talked the usual
rubbish to whoever was at the bars.'

    'Why
did you leave the party you yourself had organized and hosted?'

    'I
usually do.' Gerhardsen sat up straight in the chair. 'I know this may sound
strange to some people,' he began, 'but Annabeth and I have no children. We've
been married for sixteen years. We know each other so well and accept that
we're different and we like to amuse ourselves in different ways. Annabeth is
the kind of woman who likes objects, by which I mean she collects Royal
Copenhagen porcelain - the seagull series. She likes antiques and is very keen
to have a home that is modern and reflects good taste. I'm not like that.

    I'm a
simple man with a stressful work pattern, a tough job. When she invites people
back they tend to be from her circle of friends and if I see that there are
other things I can do… Well, we all know that some guests come out of
loneliness, some because they feel they have to come, some to be with good
friends whose company they enjoy. People's needs vary and that applies to me
and Annabeth, too. That is where we are today. At least Annabeth and I have come
to terms with it and we are pretty happy living in this way…' He grimaced and
weighed his words before continuing. 'In practice this means that a party like
the one we held on Saturday often ends with Annabeth sitting and chatting with
other women about interiors and…' He extended his arms to show the range of
topics in his spouse's conversation.'… about… about the job, the centre and
wallpaper patterns too, for all I know. But I…' He tapped his chest with his
first finger. 'I prefer to hit the town and have fun.'