Prim took a gulp of his beer, as though getting ready to dive in.
‘We walked into the forest, arm in arm, and when we were a little distance from the road, we left the trail and had sex. Then I slit her neck.’ Prim felt tears coming and had to clear his throat. ‘I am aware that you might like more details at this point, but I think I must have suppressed some parts. Anyway, I’d also brought along a vial of saliva from Røed that I smeared on her breast. I dressed her upper body so that the saliva wouldn’t be washed away in the rain before the police found her. The spit seemed like a good idea at the time, but it only served to complicate matters.’ He took a sip of beer. ‘With regards to Bertine, it was quite similar. I met her at a bar she told me she frequented and arranged to meet her in Grefsenkollen. She came by car and when I asked her to leave her phone and accompany me on an adventure in my car she had no qualms, only pure lust. She brought something she called a snuff bullet, a sort of mini-peppermill you inhale cocaine from. She persuaded me to take a sniff. I said I wanted to take her from behind and put a leather strap around her neck. No doubt assuming it was a sex game, she let me do it. It took a little longer to strangle her than I thought. Nevertheless, she stopped breathing in the end.’
Prim sighed heavily and shook his head. Wiped a tear away.
‘I must point out that I was very careful to remove any traces of myself the police might find, so I took her snuff bullet, seeing as DNA from my nose could have made its way inside. At the time I didn’t know that I would have use for it later. I had learned, incidentally, that if you’re going to kill someone and procure their brain and eyes, it’s a lot smarter to take their entire head home.’
Prim flexed his feet under the table, they felt like they were going to sleep.
‘Over the following weeks I ate little bits of brain and eyes. I needed to keep the reproduction of the annoyingly short-lived parasites going while I waited to get within striking distance of Røed. I sat a number of times at this very table wondering if I should drop by and ask if we could speak. But he was never home, I only saw Helene coming and going. Perhaps he was living someplace else, but I never managed to find out where. In the meantime, I’d eaten up the brains, the parasites were dead, so I needed a new mouse. Helene Røed. I figured it would cause Markus Røed pain — at least a certain amount — if I took her from him. And I knew of two locations I could get close to her. At the National Theatre on the date of the ticket on the fridge door. And at a place called Danielle’s. When I asked Susanne, she told me that was where she first met Markus Røed. And she couldn’t understand why Helene Røed still went to those Monday lunches — after all, she’d already reeled in her big fish. So I went along on a Monday, and sure enough, Helene Røed showed up. I ordered the same drink I’d seen her have at the party, a dirty martini, and poured an appropriate dose of gondii juice into it. Then I summoned the waiter, gave him a two hundred-krone note and had him take the drink to her table. I told him to point out another sender, that it was a joke between friends. I waited until I saw her drink and then left. I found out what time the interval for Romeo and Juliet was and that you only needed a ticket to get into the auditorium, that anybody could walk in when there was an interval and mingle with the audience. So I did what I already felt fairly experienced at, I went in and picked her up and...’ Prim grimaced and kicked out with one foot. Didn’t know whether it was the leg of the table or Våge’s leg he hit. ‘The next day she was found and Røed was taken into custody. And that was when I realised I’d shot myself in the foot. I had ensured he would wind up there because I wanted him to suffer, but then they said he’d probably be sitting there for months. So, I had to solve that problem. Fortunately, I have this...’
Prim tapped a finger against his forehead.
‘I used it and found another innocent person who could take Røed’s place. Kevin the cocaine dealer. After all, he’d been so keen to try green cocaine. He was perfect.’
45
Friday
Collection
Prim glanced towards the office gang celebrating Friday while slowly turning his own glass.
‘I also had a small shred of skin preserved. Skin from Kevin Selmer’s forearm. He wasn’t the only person I had a tissue sample of; they were something I collected and sometimes had use for in my project to cultivate the perfect parasite. With a toothpick, I lodged a flake of skin between two of the teeth in Bertine’s skull. And then you ensured the evidence landed in the hands of the police. But I expected that sooner or later it would be discovered that the bodies had a variant of the gondii parasite. And if someone understood the connection, they would begin to hunt for the primary host. Could I make Kevin appear to be both the killer and the primary host? Apologies if I sound a little smug, but the solution was as ingenious as it was simple. I prepared a mixture of green cocaine and gondii, a dose guaranteed to be lethal, put it into Bertine’s snuff bullet and went down to Kevin at Jernbanetorget to make the trade I had agreed to at the party. He was thrilled, especially when I gave him the snuff bullet into the bargain. I can only imagine the pains he must have had in his stomach before he died, I don’t doubt I would have butted my head against a wall to render myself unconscious as well.’
Prim drained the rest of his beer glass.
‘That was a long monologue, so enough about me, Terry. How are you doing?’ Prim leaned across the table. ‘Like, really. Are you feeling... paralysed? Because it happens very quickly when you drink a beer containing such a strong concentration of gondii. Even stronger than Kevin got. After a few minutes you’re simply unable to lift a finger. Not make a sound either. But I can see you’re still breathing. Heart and respiratory failure are actually the last things to occur. Well, the brain ceases to function too, of course. So I know you can hear this. I’m going to take your house keys and collect your PC. Throw it and your phone in the fjord.’
Prim looked outside. The daylight was beginning to dwindle.
‘Look, there’s a light on in my stepfather’s apartment. He’ll be on his own now. Do you think he’d fancy a visitor?’
The time was a little past half six when Markus Røed heard a ring at the door.
‘You expecting anyone?’ asked the older of the two bodyguards.
Røed shook his head. The bodyguard walked from the living room towards the hallway and the intercom.
Once he had left the room, Røed made use of the opportunity.
‘And what do you want to do after you finish working as a bodyguard?’
The young man looked at him. He had long eyelashes and soft brown eyes. The unnecessarily large muscles were compensated by the naive, childish mien. If you added some goodwill and imagination, he could pass for five or six years younger than he was.
‘Dunno,’ he said, letting his gaze sweep around the living room. Probably something they were taught on the courses: no unnecessary conversation with the client and constantly check the surroundings, even when sitting behind locked doors in the cosy cocoon of a home.
‘You could come and work for me, you know?’
The young man eyed Røed briefly, and Røed saw something resembling contempt, disgust. Then, without responding, the young man began to scan the room again. Røed cursed to himself. Fucking pup, didn’t he understand what he was being offered?
‘It’s a guy who says he knows you,’ the guard called from the hallway.