‘She has a new phone,’ he said. ‘But I don’t mind asking her myself. In fact, it’s a very good idea.’
‘Good, then I’ll add her to the list,’ Miriam said, and almost smiled before reverting back to her usual, serious self. ‘And another thing – it looks like Johannes and I may have to take a trip to Fredrikstad next weekend. Could you have Marion?’
‘Of course.’
‘Are you back in your old flat? Have you moved out of that place in Hønefoss?’
‘Yes, I’m back now. She can spend the whole weekend with me. That would be great.’
‘OK, I’ll call you.’
Miriam herded Marion towards the exit.
‘Bye-bye, Grandad.’
‘Bye-bye, Marion.’
Holger Munch waved goodbye until the door slammed shut behind them, then he went to pay the bill.
Once he got outside, he could barely wait to call his colleagues. His break from the world had lasted long enough. They had news about the dresses. Kim answered his phone after the first ring.
‘Hello?’
‘What have we got?’ Munch asked.
‘Anette and Mia found the woman who made the dresses. A seamstress from Sandvika.’
‘And?’
‘The customer was a man in his mid-forties. Eagle tattoo on his neck. Ten dresses.’
‘Ten dresses?’
‘Correct.’
Damn.
‘And we know who he is?’
‘Curry thinks he does. Like I said, we’re not one hundred per cent, but how many people in their mid-forties have a large eagle tattoo on their neck? He fits the description. Roger Bakken. He doesn’t have a record, but Curry ran into him once when he worked for the Drug Squad.’
‘What kind of guy are we talking about?’
‘A drug runner. Picking up and delivering parcels – you know.’
‘That sounds like it could be the break we’ve been waiting for.’
‘I should say so.’
‘Do we have an address?’
‘Last known address is a hostel down in Grønland. That is, if we’re talking about the same Roger Bakken.’
‘Have we dispatched a team?’
‘Mia and Anette are there now.’
‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’ Holger said, and rang off.
Chapter 23
Mia held the door open for Anette and followed her inside the dark reception area. Over the years, Mia Krüger had seen her fair share of hostels and, like all of them, this one had the familiar oppressive feeling of hopelessness between the walls. Last stop before the final destination. A place you only ended up when nobody wanted you.
‘Hello?’ Anette called out across the counter in the faded lobby, but no one came out.
‘Can’t we just go straight up?’
Mia walked across to a door which appeared to lead upstairs and pushed down the handle; it was locked.
‘I think we have to be buzzed in,’ Anette said, and peered across the reception desk. ‘Doesn’t a place like this usually have an entry phone? Surely they would want to have some control over who is coming and going?’
Mia Krüger looked around. The lobby was sparsely furnished. A small table. Two spindle-back chairs. A dried-out palm in a corner.
‘Hello?’ Anette called out again. ‘This is the police. Is anyone here?’
Finally, a door opened behind the counter and a skinny, elderly man appeared.
‘What do you want?’
‘Police. Violent Crimes Section,’ Mia said, placing her warrant card on the counter.
The man looked at them with scepticism. He glanced at the photograph of Mia while he polished off the sandwich he held in his hand.
‘Aha?’ he said, picking at his teeth with his finger. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘We’re looking for a man called Roger Bakken,’ Anette said.
‘Bakken, hmmm,’ the man said, glancing at a ledger lying in front of him.
‘Roger Bakken,’ Mia said impatiently. ‘Mid-forties, large eagle tattoo on his neck.’
‘Oh, him,’ the skinny man said, now cleaning his teeth with his tongue. ‘I’m afraid you’re too late.’
‘What do you mean?’
The thin man smirked slightly. He seemed almost pleased to put a spoke in their wheels. Clearly not a big fan of the police.
‘Checked out about a month ago.’
‘Checked out?’
‘Dead. All gone. Suicide,’ the thin man said, taking a seat behind the counter.
‘Are you messing with us?’ Mia said irritably. ‘By the way, I assume everything here is in order? Nobody staying here who shouldn’t be? And you don’t allow drugs here, do you?’
The thin man got up again, more smiling and obliging now.
‘No, of course we don’t. He killed himself, jumped from the roof and hit the tarmac. That is, if we’re talking about the same guy.’
‘Roger Bakken. Mid-forties. A tattoo on his neck.’
‘That sounds like our Roger,’ the man nodded. ‘Tragic story, but he wouldn’t be the first one. That’s life. Or it is for these guys.’
‘How did it happen?’ Anette asked.
‘Jumped from the balcony in the lounge on the eighth floor.’
‘You have a balcony? What kind of place is this?’
The thin man gave a shrug.
‘What can we do? Nail the windows shut? People have a right to make decisions about their own lives, even if they don’t belong to the upper echelons of society, don’t you think?’
Mia decided to ignore the sarcasm.
‘Please can we see his room?’
‘Sorry, someone else’s already living there. People queue up to stay here. We have a waiting list of several months.’
‘Did he have any family? Has anyone been to collect his things?’
‘Nope,’ the thin man said. ‘We called the police and someone came to pick up the body. Not many of our residents have a family. Or, if they do, then the family doesn’t want to know about them.’
‘Do you still have his stuff?’
‘It’s in a box in the basement, as far as I know.’
‘Thank you,’ Mia said impatiently.
‘You’re welcome,’ the thin man said.
Mia drummed her fingers on the counter. She had forgotten all of this. What it was like. To be a police officer in the capital. To be back in the world. She missed her house. Her island. The view of the sea.
Come to me, Mia, come.
‘I was thanking you for your help,’ she said at length.
‘You what?’
‘For fetching his stuff and handing it over without us having to waste the whole day.’
The thin man looked surly, but then he nodded and shuffled to the back room.
‘Bollocks,’ Mia muttered under her breath.
‘What’s wrong?’ Anette said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You don’t normally let people like that get to you.’
‘I slept badly,’ Mia said by way of excuse.
At that very moment, the door opened and Holger Munch appeared.
‘What have we got?’ He sounded breathless when he reached the counter.
‘Bad news.’
‘What is it?’
‘Roger Bakken killed himself a month ago.’ Anette heaved a sigh.
‘Before Pauline disappeared?’
Mia nodded.
‘Damn!’ Holger exclaimed.
His mobile rang. He stared at the display for a moment before deciding to answer the call. The thin man reappeared from the back room carrying a box.
‘Here we are. That was all he had.’
He placed the box on the counter in front of them.
‘Does it contain a mobile? Computer?’
The thin man shrugged his shoulders again.
‘Never checked.’
Mia produced a card from her back pocket and put it on the counter.
‘We’ll be taking it with us,’ she said. ‘Call me if you have any questions.’
‘What the hell?’
Anette and Mia turned simultaneously, startled at Holger’s sudden outburst on the phone. He ended the call and turned to them with a grim expression on his face.
‘Is that all?’ he asked, nodding towards the box.