The Last Fix (33 page)

    'Don't
think so.'

    'Raymond
Skau?'

    'No.'

    'Quite
sure?'

    'I've
never heard the name before, neither from her nor anyone else.'

    'What
happened on the day of the party? When did you meet?'

    'I
was already at home when she arrived. She worked on that Saturday.'

    'At
home?'

    'I
stayed over at hers, from the Friday. We went to the cinema to see a film
called
The Matrix.
Terrific film, I thought. But I don't think she
enjoyed it very much. And it was crazy.'

    'Why
was that?'

    'Because
she liked that kind of film, action films, I mean, with tough-guy actors, CGI
effects and so on, but she was very distant…'

    'Distant?'

    'Yes,
distant, but afterwards we went back to her flat in Hovseter. It was late and
we went to bed. I woke up as she was going to work… at about a quarter past
eight, I think. They opened at nine, so she left in good time to be there for
nine.'

    Gunnarstranda
moved away from the window. He crossed the floor and sat in the chair opposite
Eidesen. 'And you?' he asked.

    'I
had a day off, so I stayed in bed. I slept a little, don't remember when I got
up, but it was late morning. I went for some exercise, ran down to Bogstad and
back, and afterwards I bought a couple of newspapers, read them and made some
food for when she came back.'

    'When
was that?'

    'Afternoon
time - half past two - three maybe.'

    'And
then?'

    'We
ate. She took a shower and so on. I watched football on TV, Molde v Stabæk…
finished in a draw, 0-0.'

    'What
did she do?'

    Eidesen
shrugged. 'Don't remember. She just did her own thing, trying on clothes and so
on.' 'Clothes?'

    'Yes,
she was a bit stressed about what to wear in the evening.'

    'And
otherwise?'

    'She
was on the phone…'

    'Who
did she ring?'

    'No
idea. I was watching the football. It finished at about six.'

    'Did
she still seem distant?'

    'A
bit. But nervy too. Distant and nervy.'

    Gunnarstranda
waited.

    'It
was my impression she was in a flap because of the party.'

    'Are
you sure?'

    'How
do you mean?'

    'Well,
she might have talked about other things. Something might have happened at
work.'

    Eidesen
shook his head.

    'So
she didn't say anything about her job?'

    'No.'

    'How
many calls did she make?'

    'Several.
I wasn't following.'

    'But
did you hear what she was talking about?'

    'No.
She closed the door. The telephone's in the hallway, and I think the football
was making quite a bit of noise, so she closed the door.' 'But how do you know
she called several people?'

    'Because
she hung up, paced up and down, sat on the sofa for a bit and then called
again.'

    'How
many calls did she make?'

    'No
idea.'

    'More
than two?'

    'It
must have been.'

    'Three?
Four? Five?'

    'Three
or four, I guess.'

    'Do
you know if she spoke to Sigrid Haugom?'

    'It's
possible, but she didn't tell me who she spoke to.'

    'And
you weren't curious as to why she made four calls?'

    Eidesen
pulled a face and shook his head.

    'That's
rather odd,' the policeman said. 'I mean, most people would have wondered what
he'd got the girl into, wouldn't they?'

    'I
assumed she was chatting, the way that girls do chatter to each other.'

    'Are
you sure she wasn't trying to talk to you about something special that day and
you may not have realized?'

    'I
don't understand what you mean.'

    'Well,
let's suppose something had happened at work and she wanted to talk to you
about it, but you were so busy watching TV that you didn't twig that she wanted
to talk about something important, so…'

    'No,'
Eidesen said categorically. 'I would have sensed that.'

    'But
was she upset?'

    'She
was in a flap. But it was because of the bloody party. She was as nervous as
shit about the party.'

    'How
did her nervousness manifest itself?'

    'She
tried on a pile of clothes and she was… well… bitchy.'

    'Bitchy?'

    'Yes,
almost pre-menstrual, nagging me about every sodding thing.'

    'About
what for example?'

    'Well,
she was angry that I was watching football, that I hadn't folded up the
newspaper and that my jogging gear was strewn all over the bathroom, that sort
of thing.'

    'So she
was grumpy?'

    'Grumpy
is too mild. Bitchy is better.'

    'But
was that because of you?'

    'What
do you mean now?'

    'I
was wondering whether these outbursts were unusual or whether she considered
you lazy as regards tidying up.' 'No, no,' Eidesen reassured him. 'This was
unusual.'

    'According
to another witness Katrine was wound up on this particular day because she had
a secret she didn't want to tell.'

    'A
secret?'

    'You
didn't notice anything?'

    'Nothing
at all.'

    'And
the word
secret
doesn't ring any bells? You didn't share some deep
secret no one else could be party to?'

    'Not
that I can think of offhand.'

    The
policeman nodded slowly. 'But there is one thing I don't understand,' he went
on. 'Why do you interpret this mood as an attack of nerves before the party?'

    'Because
that was what she said.'

    'Tell
me what she said.'

    'I
asked her what was bothering her because she had thrown my tracksuit in my
face, and she stood looking at me as though she was calming down and
considering the question. Then she said she was nervous about the party.'

    'What
were her words?'

    Eidesen
furrowed his brow in thought. 'I said something like
What's up with you? or
What is it now?
Something like that. And she said:
I'm just so on edge!

    'And?'
the policeman said.

    'That's
what she said.'

    'I'm
just so on edge
?'

    'That's
what she said word for word.'

    'Why
did you interpret that as nervousness?'

    'She
was on edge… tense,' Eidesen added, on seeing the policeman's sceptical
expression. 'That was what she meant when she used the phrase
on edge.
She
meant tense, nervous.'

    'But
might she have meant something else? Could she have meant she was on edge about
something that had happened or something that was going to happen?'

    Eidesen
gave the matter some thought. 'It would have to be the party. That was how I
interpreted it, anyway.'

    'Sigrid
Haugom says she received a telephone call from Katrine that Saturday,'
Gunnarstranda said. 'She says Katrine was anxious because something had
happened that day - at the travel agency - and she wanted to discuss it with
her.'

    Eidesen
shrugged his shoulders.

    'We
have reason to believe she felt threatened.'

    'Threatened?'

    'She
didn't mention any of this to you?'

    Eidesen
shook his head. 'Not that I can remember.'

    'I
have to ask you to think back one more time to when she was explaining to you
why she was irritable. What were the precise words that she used?'

    
'She
said:
I'm just so on edge!

    'Are
you still sure it was the party that was making her nervous?'

    'Not
now, not after what you said about threats. What sort of threats were they?'

    'How
much did you know about Katrine's past?' Gunnarstranda asked in a compassionate
tone.

    'Depends
what you mean by knowing. I didn't want to know that much.'

    'Just
now you talked about being with someone who had done everything with everyone.'

    'That
side of her past was no secret.'

    'But
why did you get together?'

    'I
liked her.'

    'What
did you know?'

    'That
she had been on drugs and had done a lot of crazy things.'

    'And
you knew about her life on the streets?'

    'There's
one thing you have to understand about Katrine and me,' Eidesen said in a low
voice. He cleared his throat and paused as if to search for words. 'I wasn't
interested in her past'

    Gunnarstranda
waited. At that moment Ole Eidesen seemed very centred.

    'What
happened happened. The Katrine who walked the streets was a different person
from the Katrine I knew. I was not interested in the person who walked the
streets and took heroin. I was interested in Katrine.'

    'My
understanding was that Katrine never took heroin,' the policeman said. 'She was
on amphetamines, cocaine, Ecstasy…'

    'Don't
you think she tried heroin? She was on the streets because she was a drug
addict.'

    'I
don't think anything,' Gunnarstranda answered. 'But I've read reports about
her. Didn't you talk about her past?'

    'Never.'

    'Why
not?'

    'As I
said, I wasn't interested.'

    'Were
you jealous of her past?'

    'Of
course not.'

    'Seems
like that to me.'

    'Then
you're the one with the problem.'

    'What
happened at those times when she wanted to talk about the past?'

    'I
told her to shut up.'

    'Were
you violent?' 'I've never hit another person.'

    'Not
Katrine, either?'

    'I
wouldn't dream of it.'

    'Did
you ever hit her?'

    'Never.
The fact that you ask me shows just how little you know about me. Just asking
shows you didn't know her.'

    'But
you asked me to try to understand your torments. You asked me to try to
understand how you suffered being with a woman who had done everything with
everyone.'

    'That
wasn't what I asked.'

    'But
I perceived it as such. Your saying you didn't want to discuss her past seems
to me as though you were jealous of her past.'

    'I
wasn't jealous. I've never been jealous. Why are you so obsessed with this?'

    'Because
I sense a motive.'

    'You're
barking up the wrong tree. I would never have hurt Katrine. And, as you said
yourself, Merethe Fossum is my alibi for that night.'

    'Indeed,
but let us imagine that Katrine insisted on talking about her past that
Saturday. Let's say you refused to listen. It does not seem improbable that
this may have caused a row in the light of your emotional attitude to her
past.'