The Redbreast (28 page)

It flashed at him from the screen.

HALLGRIM DALE. 151199. MURDER
.

Harry took a deep breath. He was surprised, but why wasn’t he more surprised? He double-clicked on details. The computer droned and vibrated. But for once the convolutions of his brain were quicker than the computer, and by the time the picture came up he had already managed to place the name.

43
Focus Gym. 3 March 2000.

‘E
LLEN HERE
.’

‘Hi, it’s me.’

‘Who?’

‘Harry. And don’t pretend there are other men who ring you and say “it’s me”.’

‘You sod. Where are you? What’s that dreadful music?’

‘I’m at Focus.’

‘What?’

‘I’m cycling. Soon have done eight kilometres.’

‘Let me just get this absolutely straight, Harry: you’re sitting on a bike at Focus at the same time as talking on your mobile?’ She stressed the words ‘Focus’ and ‘mobile’.

‘Is there anything wrong with that?’

‘Honestly, Harry.’

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all evening. Do you remember that murder case you and Tom Waaler had in November, name of Hallgrim Dale?’

‘Naturally. Kripos took over almost immediately. Why’s that?’

‘Not sure yet. It may have something to do with this ex-front man I’m after. What can you tell me?’

‘This is work, Harry. Ring me at the office on Monday.’

‘Just a little, Ellen. Come on.’

‘One of the cooks in Herbert’s Pizza found Dale in the back alley. He was lying between the large rubbish bins with his throat cut. The crime scene people found
nada
. The doctor who did the autopsy, by the way, thought that the cut around the throat was just fantastic. Surgical precision, he said.’

‘Who do you think did it?’

‘No idea. Might have been one of the neo-Nazis of course, but I don’t think so.’

‘Why not?’

‘If you kill someone right on your doorstep, you’re either foolhardy or just plain foolish. But everything about this murder seems so tidy, so thought through. There were no signs of a struggle, no clues, no witnesses. Everything suggests that the murderer knew exactly what he was doing.’

‘Motive?’

‘Hard to say. Dale certainly had debts, but hardly amounts worth squeezing out of him. As far as we know, he didn’t do drugs. We searched his flat – nothing there, apart from empty bottles. We talked to some of his drinking pals. For some reason or other he had taken up with these drinking ladies.’

‘Drinking ladies?’

‘Yes, the ones who stick to the soaks. You’ve seen them, you know what I mean.’

‘Yes indeed, but . . .
drinking ladies
.’

‘You always get hung up on the craziest things, Harry, and it can be very irritating. Do you know that? Perhaps you should —’

‘Sorry, Ellen. You’re forever right and I’ll do my best to improve. You were saying?’

‘There’s a lot of partner-swapping in alkie circles, so we can’t rule out a jealousy killing. Incidentally, do you know who we had in for questioning? Your old friend Sverre Olsen. The cook had seen him at Herbert’s Pizza around the time of the murder.’

‘And?’

‘Alibi. He’d been sitting there all day, had only been out for ten minutes to buy something. The shop assistant confirmed.’

‘He could have —’

‘Yes, you would have liked it to be him, but Harry . . .’

‘Dale might have had something other than money.’

‘Harry . . .’

‘He might have had information. About someone.’

‘You like conspiracy theories up there on the sixth floor, don’t you? But can’t we deal with this on Monday, Harry?’

‘Since when have you been so particular about working hours?’

‘I’m in bed.’

‘At half past ten?’

‘I’m not on my own.’

Harry stopped pedalling. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that people around him might be listening to the conversation. He swivelled round. Luckily there were only a handful of people training at this late hour.

‘Is that the artist guy from Tørst?’ he whispered. ‘Mm.’

‘And how long have you two been bed pals?’

‘A while.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘You didn’t ask.’

‘Is he lying next to you now?’

‘Mm.’

‘Is he good?’

‘Mm.’

‘Has he told you he loves you yet?’

‘Mm.’

Pause. ‘Do you think about Freddie Mercury when you —’

‘Goodnight, Harry.’

44
Harry’s Office. 6 March 2000.

T
HE CLOCK IN RECEPTION SHOWED 8.30 AS
H
ARRY ARRIVED
at work. It wasn’t much of a reception area, more an entrance which functioned as a funnel. The funnel boss was Linda, who looked up from her computer and greeted him with a cheery ‘Good morning’. Linda had been in POT longer than anyone and, strictly speaking, she was the only person in security Harry needed to have any contact with in order to carry out his daily work. Apart from being the ‘funnel boss’, the tiny fast-talking woman of fifty functioned as a kind of communal secretary, receptionist and general factotum. It had occurred to Harry a couple of times that if he were a spy for a foreign power and had to tap someone in POT for information, he would choose Linda. Furthermore, she was the only person in POT, apart from Meirik, who knew what Harry was doing there. He had no idea what the others thought. During his extremely rare visits to the canteen to buy a yoghurt or cigarettes (which they didn’t sell, it turned out) he had caught the looks from the tables. He hadn’t tried to interpret them, however; he had merely scuttled back to his office.

‘Someone phoned for you,’ Linda said. ‘Spoke English. I’ll just have a look . . .’

She took a yellow Post-it off her computer monitor.

‘Hochner.’

‘Hochner?’ Harry exclaimed.

Linda looked at the slip of paper, uncertain. ‘Yes, that was what she said.’

‘
She?
He, don’t you mean?’

‘No, it was a woman. She said she would call back . . .’ Linda turned and looked at the clock behind her, ‘. . . now. She seemed pretty keen to get hold of you. While I’ve got you here, Harry – have you been round to introduce yourself yet?’

‘Haven’t had time. Next week, Linda.’

‘You’ve been here for a whole month. Yesterday Steffensen asked me who the tall blond guy was he’d met in the toilet.’

‘Really? And what did you tell him?’

‘I said it was on a need-to-know basis.’ She laughed. ‘And you have to come to the department do on Saturday.’

‘So I understand,’ he mumbled, picking up two pieces of paper from his pigeon-hole. One was a reminder about the party, the other an internal note about the new arrangement for reps. Both sailed into the bin as soon as he had closed his office door.

Then he sat down, pressed rec and pause on the answerphone and waited. After about thirty seconds the telephone rang. Harry picked up, expecting Hochner.

‘Harry Hole speaking.’

‘Herry? Spicking?’ It was Ellen.

‘Sorry. I thought it was someone else.’

‘He’s an animal,’ she said before he could say anything else. ‘Føcking ønbelivebel, he is.’

‘If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, I would prefer you to stop right there, Ellen.’

‘Wimp. Who were you expecting a call from, by the way?’

‘A woman.’

‘At last!’

‘Forget it. It’s probably a relative or the wife of a guy I’ve interviewed.’ She sighed. ‘When are you going to meet someone, Harry?’

‘You’re in love now, are you?’

‘Well guessed! Aren’t you?’

‘Me?’

Ellen’s joyous screech pierced his eardrum.

‘You didn’t deny it! I’ve caught you, Harry Hole! Who is it, who, who?’

‘Stop it, Ellen.’

‘Tell me I’m right!’

‘I haven’t met anyone, Ellen.’

‘Don’t lie to Mummy.’

Harry laughed. ‘Tell me more about Hallgrim Dale. How far has the investigation got now?’

‘Don’t know. Talk to Kripos.’

‘I will, but what does your intuition tell you about the murder?’

‘That he’s a pro. It isn’t a passion killing. And despite the fact that I said the murder seemed neat and tidy, I don’t believe that it was carefully planned in advance.’

‘No?’

‘The killing was efficient and there were no clues left behind, but the scene of the crime was a poor choice. He could easily have been seen from the street or in the back alley.’

‘The other line is bleeping. I’ll call you back.’

Harry pressed the pause button on the answering machine and checked that the tape was now running before he switched to the other line.

‘Harry.’

‘Hello, my name is Constance Hochner?’

‘How do you do, Ms Hochner.’

‘I’m Andreas Hochner’s sister.’

‘I see.’

Even on the bad line he could hear she was nervous. Nevertheless, she went straight to the point.

‘You had an agreement with my brother, Mr Hole. And you haven’t kept your part of the deal.’

She spoke with a strange accent, the same as Andreas Hochner’s. Automatically, Harry tried to visualise her, a habit he had adopted early on as a detective.

‘Well, Ms Hochner, I can’t do anything for your brother before I have verified the information he gave us. For the time being, we have not found anything to corroborate what he said.’

‘But why should he lie, Mr Hole? A man in his predicament?’

‘That is precisely why, Ms Hochner. If he doesn’t know anything he could be desperate enough to pretend that he does.’

There was a pause on the crackly line from ...where? Johannesburg? Constance Hochner was speaking again. ‘Andreas warned me that you might say something like that. That’s why I’m calling you, to tell you I have more information from my brother that you may be interested in.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘But you cannot have the information unless your government does something about my brother’s case first.’

‘We’ll do what we can.’

‘I’ll contact you again when there is evidence that you’re helping us.’

‘As you know, Ms Hochner, it doesn’t work like that. First of all, we have to see the results of the information we receive. Then we can help him.’

‘My brother must have guarantees. The legal proceedings against him start in two weeks.’

Her voice failed her somewhere in the middle, and Harry knew she was close to tears.

‘The only thing I can give you is my word that I’ll do as much as I can.’

‘I don’t know you. You don’t understand. They intend to sentence Andreas to
death
. They —’

‘Nevertheless, that is all I can offer you.’

She began to cry. Harry waited. After a while she was quiet.

‘Do you have children, Ms Hochner?’

‘Yes,’ she sniffled. ‘And you know what your brother has been accused of ?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Then you’ll also know that he will need all the absolution he can get. As he can help us, via you, to stop a killer, he will have done some good. And you will have too, Ms Hochner.’

She was breathing heavily over the telephone. Harry thought she was going to cry again.

‘Do you promise to do as much as you can, Mr Hole? My brother hasn’t done all the things they are accusing him of.’

‘I promise.’

Harry heard his own voice. Calm and steady. While crushing the receiver.

‘OK,’ Constance Hochner said softly. ‘Andreas says that the person who took delivery of the weapon and paid for it at the harbour that night is not the same as the person who ordered it. The man who ordered it was a fairly regular customer, a youngish man. He spoke good English with a Scandinavian accent. And he insisted that Andreas used the code name ‘the Prince’ with him. Andreas said you should start by focusing on groups of guys fixated with guns.’

‘Is that everything?’

‘Andreas has never seen him, but he says that he would recognise his voice immediately if you sent him a tape.’

‘Excellent,’ Harry said, hoping she wouldn’t hear how disappointed he was. He instinctively straightened his shoulders as if to steel himself before serving up the lie.

‘If I discover anything, I’ll start pulling the strings here.’

The words smarted like caustic soda in his mouth. ‘Thank you, Mr Hole.’

‘Nothing to thank me for, Ms Hochner.’

He repeated the last phrase a couple of times to himself after putting down the receiver.

‘That’s too much,’ Ellen said on hearing the story about the Hochner family.

‘See if your brain can forget it’s in love for a while and let it perform some of its tricks,’ Harry said. ‘Now at least you’ve got your cues.’

‘Illegal importation of arms, regular customer, the Prince, arms freaks. That’s only four.’

‘That’s all I have.’

‘Why do I agree to this?’

‘Because you love me. Now I have to be off.’

‘Wait. Tell me about the woman you —’

‘Hope your intuition is better with solving crime, Ellen. Take care.’

Harry rang the Drammen number directory enquiries had given him.

‘Mosken speaking.’ A self-assured voice.

‘Edvard Mosken?’

‘Yes. To whom am I speaking?’

‘Inspector Hole, POT. I have a couple of questions.’

It struck Harry that this was the first time he had introduced himself as an inspector. For some reason it felt like a lie.

‘Has something happened to my son?’

‘No. Would it be convenient to visit you at midday tomorrow, herr Mosken?’

‘I’m a pensioner. And single. There’s hardly a moment when it wouldn’t be convenient, Inspector.’

Harry called Even Juul and brought him up to date on what had happened.

Harry was considering what Ellen had said about the murder of Hallgrim Dale as he walked to the canteen to buy a yoghurt. He would ring Kripos to find out more about the case, although he had a strong feeling that Ellen had already told him everything worth knowing. Nevertheless. The statistical probability of being murdered in Norway was about one in ten thousand. When a person you’re looking for turns up dead in a four-month-old murder case, it is difficult to believe that it is a coincidence. Could the murder be linked in any way with the purchase of the Märklin rifle? It was barely 9 a.m. and Harry already had a headache. He hoped Ellen would be able to come up with something on the Prince. Anything at all. If nothing else, it would be a place to begin.