Four hours after he had left the pathology lab, Viken got a call from Jennifer Plåterud.
– We’ve got the results of the blood tests, she informed him
Viken grabbed a pen and flipped to an empty page in his notebook. The pathologist wouldn’t have taken the trouble to ring unless she had something interesting for him.
– We found large quantities of a substance called thiopental in the blood.
He noted this down.
– What sort of substance is it?
– A so-called barbiturate. It’s used in operations and should only be kept in hospitals and by medical suppliers. Some also in veterinary practices.
– Effects?
– A very effective anaesthetic. An overdose can bring on pulmonary and cardiac arrest.
Viken leaned back in his chair. He savoured the fact that earlier in the day Finckenhagen had been so certain that this wasn’t a case for the Violent Crimes. He started thinking about who he wanted in his team to continue the investigation.
20
Tuesday 9 October
SIGNY BRUSETER PULLED up outside the house on Reinkollen and parked next to the car that was already there. She turned off the engine, abruptly terminating the news broadcast. But letting herself into the house, it felt as though the newsreader’s voice was still talking inside her head about what had happened in the forest. Signy had slept badly that night. It was her second day in the new job.
Mette Martin, who was social educator for the three homes that lay round the little clearing, met her in the corridor. Signy was pleased to see her, because Mette Martin was such a self-assured person. Signy hadn’t had a job for the past year and eleven months. Throughout the interview she had been convinced that she would never get the job of assistant. Mostly it felt like a relief. But Mette Martin thought that the experience of her years in the nursery made her interesting, and that the transition to looking after the mentally handicapped shouldn’t be too great. She had called the very next day – to Signy’s alarm – and asked when she could begin.
– All quiet here at the moment, said Mette Martin now. – Tora’s asleep, and Oswald’s sitting in his room. The night shift took care of the morning cleaning. You’ll be on your own with them until lunch, then Åse Berit will be here, and there’ll be two of you for the rest of the day.
Signy hung up her coat and sat down on the sofa.
– Oswald has to have his medication at nine o’clock, said Mette Martin. – But don’t put the radio on. He gets so upset with all this talk about a killer bear being on the loose.
– He’s not the only one, exclaimed Signy. – Have you ever heard anything like it? Killed by a bear, a grown woman. And just a few kilometres from Karl Johan and the palace.
– Dreadful, agreed Mette Martin. – Hard to believe, actually.
After she’d left, Signy knocked on Tora’s door and went in. They were very particular about that here, always knock on the door, even though Tora couldn’t answer and probably had no idea what all the banging was about. Mette Martin had stressed that it was important to show respect for the residents regardless, and Signy approved of her saying that. Tora hadn’t exactly been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, Mette Martin said. She had a congenital defect that meant that her brain hadn’t developed as it should have done. Remarkable that she was alive at all. Her mother was a drug addict and continued to inject herself even while she was carrying Tora, so it was probably connected with that. In all the time she had been living at Reinkollen, Tora had never had a single visitor. Not a soul beyond these walls cared whether she lived or died. Life hadn’t always been easy for Signy either, but when she saw this person whom she dressed and looked after, she felt she had a lot to be thankful for.
When Tora was seated in her chair, freshly washed and groomed, Signy wheeled her out into the corridor and stopped in front of the mirror.
– We care about you here, Tora, she crooned.
Tora moved her jaw as though she was laughing, and made noises down in her throat. Mette Martin had said this meant she was happy, and Signy smiled and stroked her hair, suddenly feeling happy too.
Soon she’d have to see to Oswald. All night she’d been uneasy at the thought of being alone with him. Oswald had Down’s syndrome and was nearly thirty years old. Some additional hormonal abnormality meant that he’d ended up a hefty six foot three, broad as a barn door but with a three year old in his head, the main difference being that Oswald didn’t have as much language. On several occasions Mette Martin had assured her that he was as gentle as a lamb and had never caused trouble for anyone.
Signy summoned up her courage and opened his door.
– Hi, Oswald, how about coming into the dining room for a bite to eat?
He grunted and stood up so suddenly that she took two steps backward.
– Hold hands, he said, and took hold of hers.
Åse Berit Nytorpet was a big, stocky woman in her sixties with pinched lips and grey hair bunched in a topknot. She arrived at twelve o’clock exactly, took a pair of shaggy slippers from a plastic bag and slid her feet into them.
– Floor in here gets bloody freezing, she said as she waddled into the room.
After giving Tora her bath, the two assistants were able to sit down for a breather.
– Miserable to live here and never even get a visitor, Signy said with a sideways glance at Tora.
Åse Berit snorted.
– Her mother’s been on the street for years. You don’t expect someone like that to care, do you? But her father’s supposed to be a celebrity.
– Really? exclaimed Signy. – D’you know who…?
Åse Berit shrugged her shoulders.
– There are rumours.
Clearly she didn’t want to say any more about these rumours. Maybe she was saving them for later. Instead she turned on the radio, but as the time for the news approached Signy had to remind her that Mette Martin had asked them to be sure not to leave it on.
– It’s that woman who was killed, she said, lowering her voice. – Mette Martin says Oswald goes completely nuts when he hears about it.
Åse Berit turned the radio off.
– Let them have a taste of it, these city people, she said, pursing her lips. – They’ve made their own bed, now let them lie in it. Maybe now they’ll understand what it’s like having wild animals snuffling round the walls of your house. So at least some good might come of it.
Signy didn’t respond. She couldn’t think of any way that what had happened might be good at all. The dead woman was just a few years older than she was herself.
– You should’ve heard what my old man said when he heard the news yesterday, Åse Berit went on. – Just the year before last we had four pregnant ewes got ripped to pieces. Think it does any good to complain? Oh no, poor old Bruin the Bear has to be left well enough alone, don’t you know. Her voice had begun to shake. – Don’t touch the wild animals. But people like us who are trying to live off keeping sheep, we’re the ones that pay the price.
She pointed demonstratively at her forehead and shook her head.
– Let me tell you something, Signy. She lowered her voice. – When people get angry enough, they can do things they oughtn’t to have done.
Signy gaped at her.
– You don’t think anyone from round here is involved in it?
Åse Berit pursed her lips and made a zipping motion across them with two fingers. But shortly afterwards she was off again.
– If you only knew how angry some people can be. Things have been brewing for a long time up on the farms around us. Year after year we’ve had to put up with this. Now things might change. If we’re going to have bears, they can roam around wherever they like, and not just up here. We’ll soon see how long they put up with that.