‘The dealer with the face mask, he tried to gather together enough powder from the floor to make a line for Markus, I understand.’
‘Yeah. Or maybe he was just trying to tidy up. He even wiped Markus’s snot off the table.’ She nodded towards the large glass table in front of the sofa in the living area. ‘He probably wanted to make a good impression, have Markus as a regular customer, who doesn’t? You may have noticed that Markus isn’t exactly the type to haggle. He prefers to overpay than underpay, it gives him a sense of power. Or rather, it gives him power.’
‘You mean power is important to him?’
‘Isn’t it important to everyone?’
‘Well. Not to me. Granted, that’s just self-analysis.’
They had sat down at the dining table, across from each other. Helene Røed was looking at Harry in a way that made him think she was assessing the situation. Assessing how much she should say. Assessing him.
‘Why do you have a metal finger?’ she asked, nodding towards his hand.
‘Because a man cut off the finger I had. It’s a long story.’
Her gaze didn’t flinch. ‘You smell of stale alcohol,’ she said. ‘And vomit.’
‘Sorry. I had a rough night and haven’t got round to getting fresh clothes.’
She smiled vaguely, as though to herself. ‘Do you know the difference between a handsome man and an attractive man, Harry?’
‘No. What is it?’
‘I’m asking because I don’t know.’
Harry met her eyes. Was she flirting?
She shifted her gaze to the wall behind him. ‘Do you know what I found attractive about Markus? I mean, apart from his surname and his money.’
‘No.’
‘That he seemed attractive to other people as well. Isn’t that strange? How that sort of thing is self-reinforcing?’
‘I know what you mean.’
She shook her head as though in resignation. ‘Markus has no talents apart from one. He can send out the signal that he’s in charge. He’s like that boy or girl in school who, without anyone understanding why, takes the lead and decides who is in and who is out. When, like Markus, you’re sitting on that social throne, then you have power, and power begets power. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing more attractive than power. You understand, Harry? It isn’t calculated opportunism that makes women fall for power, it’s biology. Power is sexy, full stop.’
‘OK,’ Harry said. She probably wasn’t flirting.
‘And when, like Markus, you’ve learned to like that power, then you’re terrified of losing it. Markus is good with people, but because he and his family have power, he’s probably more feared than liked. And that bothers him. Because it’s important for him to be liked. Not by the people who don’t matter, he couldn’t care less about them, but by those he wants to identify with, those he sees as his equals. He went to BI Norwegian Business School because he wanted to take over the family’s property business, but there was more partying than studying, and in the end, he had to go abroad to get a qualification. People think he’s good at his job because money has been accumulated, but if you’ve been in property for the last fifty years, it’s been impossible not to make money. Markus was actually one of the few who almost managed to run his company into the ground all the same, but the bank bailed him out at least twice. And money tells the only success story people are capable of hearing. Myself included.’ She sighed. ‘He had a regular table at a club where men with money pick up girls who like men with money and do as they’re told. It sounds banal, and it is. I knew that Markus had a marriage behind him, but it had been years ago, and that he’d been single since. I figured he hadn’t met the right woman. And that was me.’
‘Was it?’
She shrugged. ‘I was right for him, I suppose. A bombshell thirty years his junior to be shown off, capable of conversing with people his age without it becoming embarrassing, and keeping things in order at home. The question was probably more if he was the right one for me. It took a long time before I asked myself that question.’
‘And?’
‘And now I live here, and he lives in a man cave in Frogner.’
‘Mm. Yet the two of you were together on both of the Tuesdays the girls went missing.’
‘Were we?’
Harry thought he saw something challenging in her eyes. ‘That’s what you told the police.’
She smiled briefly. ‘Yes, then I suppose we were.’
‘Are you trying to let me know you weren’t telling the truth?’
She shook her head with a resigned expression.
‘Is it you or Markus that is most in need of an alibi?’ Harry asked, and followed her reaction closely.
‘Me? You think I could have...’ The look of astonishment on her face disappeared and her laughter resounded in the room.
‘You have a motive.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t have a motive. I’ve let Markus run around, the only condition I set was that he doesn’t embarrass me. Or let them take my money.’
‘Your money?’
‘His, ours, mine, whatever. I don’t think those two girls had any plans like that. And they weren’t exactly high-maintenance either. Anyway, you’ll realise soon enough that I really don’t have any motive. My lawyer sent a letter to Krohn this morning stating that I want a divorce, and that I want half of everything. You see? I don’t want him, they can take Markus, whoever is so inclined. I just want my riding school.’ She laughed coldly. ‘You look surprised, Harry?’
‘Mm. A movie producer in Los Angeles told me that your first marriage is the most expensive college. That it’s where you learn to ensure there’s a prenuptial agreement in your next marriage.’
‘Oh, Markus has a prenup. Both with me and his ex, he’s not stupid. But because of what I know, he’ll give me what I ask for.’
‘And what is it you know?’
She smiled broadly. ‘That’s my leverage, Harry, so I can’t tell you that. The chances are I’ll sign a non-disclosure agreement. I hope to God someone finds out what he’s done, but if they do it’ll be without my help. I know that sounds cynical, but right now I need to save myself not the world. Sorry.’
Harry was about to say something but thought better of it. She wasn’t going to be manipulated or persuaded.
‘Why did you agree to this meeting?’ he asked instead. ‘If you knew you weren’t going to tell me anything?’
She thrust out her bottom lip, nodded. ‘Good question. You tell me. That suit of yours will have to go to the dry cleaner’s, by the way. I’ll give you one of Markus’s, you’re around the same size.’
‘Sorry?’
Helene had already got to her feet and was walking further into the apartment. ‘I’ve put aside a few suits he’s too fat to fit into any more, which I was going to give to the Salvation Army,’ she called out.
While she was gone, he stood up and went over to the fridge. He saw now that there was a photo of Helene after all; she was holding the bridle of one of the horses. The theatre ticket was for the following day. He looked at the calendar. Noticed ‘horse ride Valdres’ written in for next Thursday. Helene returned with a black suit and a garment bag.
‘Thank you for the thought but I prefer to buy my own clothes,’ Harry said.
‘The world needs more reusing,’ she said. ‘And this is a Brioni Vanquish II, it’d be a crime to throw it away. Come on, do the planet a favour.’
Harry looked at her. He hesitated. But something told him to humour her. He took off his jacket and put on the other one.
‘Well, you’re slimmer than he was, even back then,’ Helene said, her head cocked to one side. ‘But you’re the same height and your shoulders are just as broad, so it works.’