The Last Fix [En liten gyllen ring no]

Annabethwas becoming emotional and stood up. 'Excuse me… I'm just so upset.'

Gunnarstrandalooked up at her. 'I suppose that patients do sometimes die,' he commented.

'What?'

'Don'tdrug addicts sometimes die?'

Annabethstared at him, speechless. Her mouth opened and shut in slow motion.

'Andafter school,' Frølich interrupted in a composed voice. 'What did she dothen?'

Annabethglowered at Gunnarstranda, closed her eyes and sat down again. 'She got a jobin no time at all,' she said. 'Well, I think she should have aimed higher,started at university, taken an honours course. She could have done politicalscience. She could have become a journalist. With her looks she could havewalked into any job she wanted. My God, she had so many options!'

'Butwhere did she get a job?'

'In atravel agency. I can give you the phone number. Such a ridiculous young girl'sdream. That's such a bitter thought, too. Here we have this delicate soul who Iassume – I say assume because it was impossible to get anything out of her, asis so often the case – and this poor soul goes and gets abused by some man orother while still a child. Please don't misunderstand me. There are some drugaddicts who just want their kicks in everyday life. I mean, some patients can'tseem to live intensely enough in the world we call normal. But…'

'…but Katrine wasn't the type?' Frølich suggested.

'Katrinewas so full of… what should I say?… she was so vulnerable. And girls like heroften start taking drugs at the age of twelve, with hash anyway. Start smokingreefers, as they call them, then it's glue-sniffing and alcohol and the firstfix when they're fifteen. Then they drop out of school. It's the usual story:leave school, leave home, then start picking up punters on the streets. Thesepoor young people have no childhood. They don't have the ballast that you andI…'

Shepaused for a few seconds while Gunnarstranda, still thinking, sprang up andplaced one foot on the seat to roll himself a cigarette.

'Goon,' Frølich said in a friendly voice.

'Wherewas I?' she asked, disorientated.

'Youwere talking about drug addicts who lose their childhood.'

'Ah,yes. And what do you do when you haven't had a childhood? You catch up ofcourse. That was what was so bad about Katrine. Good-looking girl, attractivefigure, intelligent, quick. But just a child, just a child… what was your nameagain?'

'Frølich.'

'Achild, Frølich. This child in a woman's body could sit down and stuffherself with sweets – watch cartoons, read rubbishy romantic magazines like atwelve-year-old girl – with stories about princes who ride away with Cinderellainto the sunset – blow out candles on her birthday, wear a crown on her head -she always wore a crown on her birthday. She loved it. Writing her boyfriend'sname on her hand. Spur of the moment wheezes like having a bread-eatingcompetition or making paper boats. She revelled in these things.

'It'soften like that. Young girls in women's bodies, experienced in life and sodriven that they can wriggle their way like eels around men and authorities.This dual nature is perhaps the biggest problem of all. Women like this canseem like wounded animals grabbing whatever they need at any particular moment,without any scruples, while still being children with dreams of the bold braveprince who will ride away with them, take them on trips around the world.Katrine was no exception. Imagine, with all the talent she had, she preferredto sit at a computer in a travel agency! What about that? A travel agency!'

Frølichnodded his head gravely and watched Gunnarstranda flick a strand of tobacco offhis lower lip while staring into space. A magpie stalked across the grassbehind him with purposeful intent. The bird was like a priest, thought Frølich,a stooped priest, dressed in black with a white collar, his hands behind hisback. In fact, the two of them, the magpie and the vain policeman, were verysimilar.

'Yousaid she wrote her boyfriend's name on her hand. Did she have a boyfriendbefore she died?' Frølich asked.

'Yes,she did. A bit of a strange choice. I'm sure you know the type. Looks like acar salesman or a football player. Goes to a tanning salon and watches karatefilms.'

'What'shis name?'

'Ole.His surname's Eidesen.'

'Whatsort of person is he?'

'Runof the mill… a young… man.' She shrugged.

'Butwhat's the link between them? Why did they become a couple?'

'Ithink he must have been a tennis coach or something like that,' she said with aresigned grin. 'No, I was joking. He was a driving instructor or a languageteacher. I haven't a clue really, but it was something as banal.'

'Whatimpression did you have of Ole?'

'Hewas an ordinary sort of chap, superficial… in my opinion, and hence boring… andvery jealous.'

Thetwo detectives looked at her.

'Althoughhe wasn't brutal. Just jealous. I don't think he ever did anything…'

'Justa boring, jealous man?'

'Yes.'

'Howdid the jealousy manifest itself?'

'Dearme, this is just what I've heard. I don't actually have any impression of him.'

'Whatdo you think Katrine saw in a man like Ole?'

'Status.''What do you mean by that?'

'Imean what I say. This chap looks like one of those models in a deodorantcommercial – you know, shaved head and trendy clothes. For Katrine he was astatus symbol she could show off to other women. Meat.'

'Meat?'

'Yes,that's what our young people are good at, pairing up, and I assume this chapwas well-suited for that.'

'Shehad a large tattoo around her navel. Anything symbolic in that?' Frølichasked.

'Noidea,' Annabeth answered, adding, 'I would guess not. It's part of the tawdryart that characterizes our patients. Something erotic, I would guess, a sexthing.'

'Doyou know if she had a past in prostitution?'

'Theyall do.'

Frølichraised both eyebrows.

'Mostanyway.'

'ButKatrine? Did she?'

'Shehad also experienced that segment of reality, yes.'

Gunnarstrandacoughed. 'When did you last see Katrine?'

Annabethlooked perplexed. 'On Saturday.' She cleared her throat and took the plunge.'At a party at our place. She became ill and then just left.'

'Inother words, you were one of the last people to see her alive.'

Annabethstared into the policeman's eyes for a few seconds and lowered her gaze. 'Yes…I was, with several other people.'

'Yousaid she became ill.'

'Shehad a bit of a turn and was sick. I was very shaken because I thought she wasdrunk and it would not have looked good if our patients were seen to bedrinking and spewing up at my house.'

'Butshe wasn't drunk?'

'No,she hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all evening. And it can't have been thefood either because no one else was ill.'

'Soit was a turn,' Gunnarstranda said. 'And she left the party with herboyfriend?'

'No,she must have taken a taxi on her own.'

'Musthave taken? You don't know if she did?'

'No,to be honest, I don't know how she got home.'

'Shenever did arrive home.'

Annabethclosed her eyes. 'Don't make this worse for me than it already is,Gunnarstranda. I don't know how she went off. All I know is that someone wastaking care of her. I know she left the party and I assume they put her safelyinto a taxi.'

'Butdo you know when?'

'Iwould guess at around midnight.'

Gunnarstrandanodded. 'Fru Ås,' he said, 'we have now reached a point in theconversation where I have to explain that the parameters have changedsomewhat.'

'Oh?'

Gunnarstrandadid not reply at once.

'Changed?Surely you don't think…? Oh, my goodness, what…?'

'Wedon't think anything,' the policeman said gen- dy. 'The change is that you areno longer required to protect client confidentiality. If you are not alreadyaware, I can release you from any professional oaths with immediate effect, ifnecessary, with authority from the highest…'