'We'veestablished that she had a strained relationship with Bjørn Gerhardsen,'Frølich said. 'We know that Annabeth s must have hated her, that Katrinecouldn't choose between Ole Eidesen and Henning Kramer, and that she was hidingfrom her past while trying to clear up a period in her very earliest past – sheowed ten thousand kroner to a violent pimp. We've established that on the daybefore the murder she visited the social worker who knew about her adoption.'
'Thelast one,' Gunnarstranda smiled. 'It means Katrine knew who she was. She didn'ttell Ole Eidesen. Why not? Because she hasn't come to terms with the matteryet. She knows the name of her biological mother and she has had a shock. Thecircumstances around the adoption must have struck deep. Remember she hadfar-fetched fantasies about her biological parents dying in plane crashes andall that sort of thing. Now she has discovered the actual truth. What does shedo then?'
'Soyou think the phone calls prove she was continuing to dig up her past?'
'Notnecessarily. She may have simply revealed the news to some other person.Although she may also have rung someone who was in the know.'
'Buthow does that help us?'
'Weknow she made four or five calls, at least.'
'Andwe would never get a warrant to check the telephone line. Wait a minute,' Frølichsaid, excited. 'Gerhardsen,' he went on. 'Gerhardsen has money. He's loaded.Katrine might have called him to ask for a favour. She needed money to pay offSkau. Wow, this is a straight business deal for the two of them. Both Katrineand Gerhardsen have been in this situation before. She asked him for money.That explains why he treated her like a whore at the party afterwards. Thatexplains why she was ill at the party. Suppose he had given her money andwanted repayment in kind – in the form of sexual favours?'
'Youmay be right. But why would he throttle her?'
Frølichconsidered the options. 'Because she didn't want to play along,' he concluded.'And Gerhardsen doesn't have an alibi. He claims he went to Smuget, but no onehas corroborated that, neither those who went with him nor the other two in thetaxi. Neither Ole Eidesen nor Merethe Fossum remembers him entering. Neither ofthem can remember having seen the guy inside. But Katrine and Henning must havebeen five hundred metres away from his taxi outside Smuget. My God, his car inMunkedamsveien, everything fits. He has to cross the City Hall square to fetchthe car. If he had gone for it right after the taxi dropped them off he wouldhave seen Katrine and Henning. They were putting on their show on the wharf.'
Gunnarstrandaregarded his younger colleague with a smile. 'You'd like to bang up Gerhardsen,wouldn't you.'
'Naturally.'
'Haveyou got something against him?'
'Allthe same, it's worth bringing him in for questioning again,' Frølichsaid.
Theywere interrupted by the telephone, and Gunnarstranda's face split into a hugesmile after delivering his arrogant one-liner.
Hecoughed. 'Of course I remember you,' he said, standing up and fidgeting.
Frølichstood up as well.
'Justa moment,' Gunnarstranda said, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of thereceiver. 'Yes, Frølich?'
Thereserved expression caused his colleague to burst into a grin. 'A woman, isit?' He beamed.
Gunnarstranda,unmoved, coughed. 'What's the matter, Frølich?' he repeated inunapproachable mode.
Frølichwas already by the door. 'Should Gerhardsen be arrested or just brought in forquestioning?' he asked in a formal tone.
Theinspector gave an impatient shrug and turned away. As soon as he concentratedon the telephone the features of his lean face softened. He sat down andlistened with a big smile on his lips. 'And that,' he said with sympathy, 'that'susually a fertilizer problem…'
Chapter Forty-Two
Hedrove in the vague direction of the city centre. He needed to find amulti-storey car park. It wasn't so important where he put the car. The mainthing was that the place should be anonymous. A place where he would be given areceipt. It was at such moments, when there was no doubt about what had to bedone, that all the tiny events put together acquired new meaning – that tinyevents became a comprehensible whole. In a way he was back at square one;finally he was where he should have begun. Of course this was a weakness on hispart – not starting at the beginning. However, perhaps it is humanity'sgreatest weakness: a tendency to walk around the target until there is no wayback. It's always like that: it isn't until you stand by the quarry that youcan see the shortest route – it's only then you know where you should havestarted.
Hegrinned. He knew where he should have started. After so much trouble he nowknew. Because of the most common weakness in existence: not facing up to thereal truth. You shrink from seeing small signs and signals of the illness untilthese same symptoms have grown so large that the illness keeping the symptomsalive can no longer be denied.
Inall these years there had only been one real threat. He had accepted thethreat. Not because he was stupid, not because he was weak, but because he hadallowed himself to be duped by the symptoms when the malignant tumour began to stir.
Butwas it in vain?
Nothingis in vain. He turned the car radio up louder. It was the wrong question.That's why nothing is in vain. The car radio began to hiss as he drove down thehills in Fjellinjen. Cars whizzed by on both sides, young people racing bywithout knowing what it was they were racing after. Urban traffic is a study inimpatience. He slowed down and turned off before he was through the tunnel andreappeared in daylight just before Filipstad. He turned right and drove slowlyinto the entrance of the multi-storey car park. The crackling in the speakersdisturbed his thinking. He had to switch off the radio. The bends led himgently downwards. Nothing is in vain. It is the endeavour and the exertion thatafford insight, that reveal the truth. The others did not die in vain.
Theyhad helped him to point out the real tumour. When the tumour can no longer beconcealed there is only one solution: you get rid of it. He left the spiralramp and drove into the parking area. Out of the darkness; into the darkness.
Thesun was baking the policeman's back as he closed the wrought-iron gate behindhim and slowly made his way up the garden path alongside a beautiful row ofweigela plants whose bell-like flowers were coming to an end now. He stoppedand took a spray of fragile, wax-like bells that were still in blossom. Hecould sense his dread. While he was standing there he heard the rustle of anewspaper from somewhere behind the hedge. So someone was at home. He movedaway and walked the last few metres to the broad front door and rang the bell.Not a sound could be heard from inside. Either the bell didn't work or theydidn't hear, he thought, and he raised his hand to ring again. At that momentthe door opened a crack.
'Gunnarstranda?'Sigrid Haugom said in surprise. 'What brings you here this time?'
Theinspector put both hands in his jacket pockets and tried to formulate an answerin his head. 'A sucker,' he said after a pause.
SigridHaugom opened the door wide and led the way. She was wearing a flowery dress.It looked as though she had just put it on. As if to underline the correctnessof his assumption she stopped in front of a mirror and smoothed a few kinksover her bosom. 'Is that what you think?' she asked.
'Aboutwhat?'
Sheglanced over her shoulder. 'That Katrine was a sucker?'
'Iwas thinking of a different kind of sucker,' the policeman said without furtherexplanation, glancing to the left as he passed a veranda door. There was a sunlounger on the terrace, an open newspaper on the lounger, a pile of newspapersacross the floor and a half-eaten apple on a plate beside the newspapers.