Fivemetres to go. Frank had the taste of blood in his mouth. The sudden sound of aloud crash.
Acollision.
AsFrank reached the top a car door slammed. He stopped and his lungs gasped forair. His pounding heart sounded like thunder in his ears. He tried to regulatehis breathing, but could not. The first thing he noticed was a woman standingby the lift. She was holding the hands of two small boys in short trousers. Oneof them was picking his nose. Sixty metres in front of him he saw Haugom'scoke-grey Mercedes. The bonnet had almost carved a parked, small VW Golf intotwo. A man was staggering along the central aisle. It was Haugom. But there wassomething wrong. Haugom stood with his knees bent and a surprised expression onhis face. He was holding his thigh.
Frølichset off. 'Stop,' he shouted to Haugom. 'Stand still!'
Hewas running. From the corner of his eye he could see the woman with the twochildren shooing them into the stair well. Haugom's knees gave way. Frankslowed down against his will.
ErikHaugom was rocking on his knees. 'Stop.' Frølich repeated, gentler thistime, and continued walking towards the man who now had a distant, almostdreamy expression on his face. The bent figure fighting to remain uprightresembled a spaced- out needle addict. Frølich ground to a halt as theman fell to his knees.
Therewere five metres between them as the man let go of his thigh. He was a strangesight. His jacket seemed to be glued to his right thigh.
'Helpme,' whispered Erik Haugom, rolling gently down on to the concrete floor.
'What'sup?' Frølich asked, bending over him. 'Have you been hurt?'
Haugom'sbreathing was a strained wheeze. He was fighting for air. His mouth moved.Frank stooped over him. 'In my jacket pocket,' Haugom whispered with a gurgle.
'Whathave you got in your jacket?'
'Ahypodermic needle. Take it out.'
'You'vegot a syringe in your pocket?'
Haugomdidn't answer. He fell on to his back and tried to straighten up. His face wasscarlet; his breathing a barely audible rasp.
'Well,well, doctor,' Frølich mumbled to the figure on the floor. 'I think youneed a medic.' He stood thinking, and alternated between looking at his mobiletelephone and Haugom, who was now lying on his side, his fingers shudderingwith spasms. 'Where are the medics when you need them?' Frølich askedhimself in a low voice.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Theywere sitting in Cafe Justisen. They had taken seats at a table in the cornerunder a photograph of Oslo-born artist Hermansen. Gunnarstranda had just eatena meatball and fried egg smorgasbord. Now he was washing it down with a cup ofblack coffee. Fristad and Frølich each had a draught beer.
'Sonow at last we can do what we should have done a long time ago,' Fristad saidwith a tiny smile followed by a broad grin. 'We shelve the case for lack ofevidence. What did he have in the syringe by the way?'
Gunnarstrandaglanced up from his coffee. 'A Norwegian killer nurse special. He had left hisbriefcase in a dirty laundry basket in Bueng's room. The original packaging wasin it. Big dose.'
'Curacit?'Fristad gave a nod of acknowledgement. 'That's what I call suicide with style.'
'Badluck I would call it.' Gunnarstranda turned to the other two. 'He didn't have asnowball's hope in hell. The dose of curacit would have paralysed hisrespiratory organs pretty quickly. The idea had been to kill Bueng. When youturned up at the home I suppose he had the syringe primed and ready in hispocket. It lay there then like an undetonated bomb until the collision in themulti-storey car park. He must have got the whole syringe in his thigh when hesmashed into the car. The pathologist had to cut the needle out it was stuck inso far.'
'Typical,'Frølich said. 'Bloody typical.'
'Whatwas?'
'Thathe was out to paralyse Bueng's respiratory organs. Haugom must have been hookedon asphyxiation. Even the medication he used ended in asphyxiation.'
Fristaddrank his beer and smacked his lips. 'I gather his wife has confessed to themurder of Helene Lockert. Why would the husband set out on this trail ofmurders?'
PoliceInspector Gunnarstranda took his time. 'It seems he never believed she wouldconfess,' he said at length. 'The truth about the Lockert woman's death hadbound them together for good or ill for years. He had a hold over her. Sheclaims he abused her, but she didn't dare to report him because he threatenedhe would tell all he knew about her killing of Helene
Lockert.That Saturday… Sigrid Haugom had barely finished listening to what Katrine hadtold her before she told her husband about the phone conversation. Neither ofthem knew what to do. Not until Katrine fell ill at the party. Haugom's motivefor killing Katrine was to prevent the Lockert case from being solved.'
Gunnarstrandachewed, swallowed and went on: 'As soon as Katrine knew who her biologicalmother was, it was just a question of time before she would start digging upthe past. Sigrid's name would have popped up sooner or later. According toSigrid, her husband feared her reprisals and was concerned about his ownstatus. Sigrid's defence in a court case would have been to go for mitigatingcircumstances, in other words, to embroider on what a psychopathic animal of ahusband she had tolerated. With her inside, he would have lost the hold he hadover her. She would have reported him for abuse and nothing would have stoppedher. In this way she would have had her revenge for all the humiliations towhich he had subjected her over the years.
'Sigrid'srole in Katrine's murder boils down to her call to her husband when Katrinefell ill at the party. He drove over and saw her walking in the middle of the road.He saw her jump into Henning Kramer's car. We will never know what his thoughtswere at that time – whether he had already decided to throttle her, I mean. Inany case, he followed them. He had claimed to his wife that he had followedthem to talk to Katrine. Whether she believed that, I don't know.'
'Buthe must have been spying on them for several hours,' Fristad said. 'He can'thave been intending to talk if he had stalked them for such a long, long time.'
'Atany rate he can't have been intending to talk when he struck,' Frølichsaid. 'His upper body is covered in scratch marks. So he must have taken hisclothes off before he attacked her. And so the murder must have beenpremeditated. He approached her naked so as not to leave clues on her body.'
'Didhe go straight up and strangle her?'
'Yes,he did,' Frølich said.
'Howcome he didn't get any scratches on his face?'
'Wefound a mask in the car boot,' Frølich said. 'A kind of SM leatherthing, with a zip in front of the mouth and so on. He must have looked aterrible sight – no clothes and a face like Hannibal the Cannibal.'
'Poorgirl,' Fristad gasped.
'Girls,'Gunnarstranda amended. 'Poor girls. The mask was not unknown to his wife,either.' They sat staring into middle distance. Gunnarstranda unwrapped a sugarlump and put it in his mouth. He sipped coffee and sucked the sugar lump.'Sigrid said she felt Henning Kramer was watching her,' he continued. 'But shedidn't know why. She didn't know that Henning had seen Haugom inVoksenkollveien. Henning couldn't figure out why Sigrid had been picked up atfour in the morning by her husband, but he had seen the man in his car when hewent to collect Katrine.'
'Shemight be an accessory,' Fristad concluded. 'She ought to be charged.'
Gunnarstrandashrugged and drank more coffee. 'I don't think so. Sigrid maintains she didn'ttell her husband any of this. She visited Bueng on Sunday, of course, beforeshe knew that Katrine was dead. She visited Bueng because she feared Katrinewould discover his existence and thereby find out the truth about the murder ofher mother. Haugom, for his part, posted Katrine's jewellery to Skau in anattempt to pin the blame on him. What happened afterwards was that Henningphoned their house and asked to meet Haugom. On Wednesday. After the funeral,after Frølich had questioned Haugom in the office.'