Beate went over to the second window and her gaze scanned the area. It would be easy to hide the Delta team in the forest, in the dip in the ground by the metro rails and perhaps in the neighbouring houses on both sides. In short, surround this house.
‘He always did come up with such simple ideas you scratched your head afterwards wondering why you hadn’t thought of them,’ she said. ‘The crumbs.’
‘Eh?’ Bjørn said.
‘The crispbread crumbs.’
Bjørn looked down at the floor. Back up at Beate. Then he tore a sheet from his notepad, crouched down and brushed the crumbs onto the paper.
Beate looked up and met Katrine’s enquiring eyes.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Beate said. ‘Why the fuss? This isn’t a crime scene. But it is. Every place where an unsolved crime has been committed is and remains a crime scene with the potential to reveal evidence.’
‘Are you counting on finding clues from the Saw Man here?’ Ståle asked.
‘No,’ Beate said, examining the floor. ‘They must have planed it off. There was so much blood, and it must have stained so deep into the wood, that scrubbing would have made no difference.’
Ståle glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve got a patient soon, so what about telling us Harry’s suggestion?’
‘We never informed the press,’ Beate said, ‘but when we found the body in this room we first had to ascertain whether it really was human.’
‘Oooh,’ Ståle said, ‘do we want to hear any more?’
‘Yes,’ Katrine said firmly.
‘The body had been sawn up into such small parts that at first sight it wasn’t easy to tell. He had put the breasts on a shelf in the glass cabinet there. The only evidence we found was a broken jigsaw blade. And. . yes, those of you who are interested can read the rest in this report.’ Beate patted her shoulder bag.
‘Oh, thank you,’ Katrine said with a smile she must have felt was too sweet, as she quickly replaced it with her serious expression.
‘The victim was a young girl at home on her own,’ Beate said. ‘And we were also aware then that the methods used bore similarities to those in the Tryvann murder. But what is crucial for us is that it’s an unsolved murder. And it was committed on the seventeenth of March.’
It was so quiet in the room that they could hear joyful shouts from the school playground on the other side of the trees.
Bjørn was the first to break the silence. ‘That’s in three days’ time.’
‘Yes,’ Katrine said. ‘And Harry, the sicko, has suggested we set a trap, hasn’t he?’
Beate nodded.
Katrine slowly shook her head. ‘Why did none of us think of that?’
‘Because none of us knew exactly how the murderer lured the victims to the crime scene,’ Ståle answered.
‘Harry could still be wrong,’ Beate said. ‘Both with regard to how the murderer operates and that this is the next crime scene. Since the first officer died we’ve passed several dates for unsolved murders in Østland and nothing has happened.’
‘But,’ Ståle said, ‘Harry’s seen a similarity between the Saw Man and the other murders. Disciplined planning combined with apparently unbridled brutality.’
‘He called it gut instinct,’ Beate said. ‘But by that he meant-’
‘Analysis based on non-systematised facts,’ Katrine said. ‘Also known as Harry’s method.’
‘So he says it will happen in three days,’ Bjørn said.
‘Yes,’ Beate said. ‘And he had another prediction. He pointed out, like Ståle, that the last murder was even more like the original with him putting the victim in a car and rolling him over a cliff. That the murderer was continuing to perfect the killings. The next logical step would be for him to choose the identical murder weapon.’
‘A jigsaw,’ Katrine gasped.
‘That would be typical of a narcissistic serial killer,’ Ståle said.
‘And Harry was sure it would take place here?’ Bjørn asked, looking around him with a grimace.
‘In fact, that was where he was least sure of himself,’ Beate said. ‘The murderer had easy access to all the other crime scenes. This house has stood vacant for many years as no one has wanted to live where the Saw Man had been. But nevertheless it is locked. It’s true the Tryvann hut was broken into, but this house has neighbours. Luring a policeman here would involve much greater risk. So Harry thinks he might change the pattern and entice the victim somewhere else. But we’ll set the trap for the cop killer here, and see if he rings.’
There was a tiny pause as they all appeared to be chewing on the fact that Beate had used the name the press had adopted, the cop killer.
‘And the victim. .?’ Katrine asked.
‘I have here,’ Beate said, patting her shoulder bag again, ‘everyone who worked on the Saw Man case. They’ll be told to stay at home with the phone switched on. Whoever is called will act cool and just confirm they’re on their way. Then he will ring the Ops Room, say where he’s going and then we’ll swing into action. If it’s not Berg but somewhere else, Delta will be moved there.’
‘So we have to act cool when a serial killer calls?’ Bjørn queried. ‘I dunno if my acting’s up to that.’
‘They don’t need to conceal their trepidation,’ Ståle said. ‘Quite the contrary, it would be suspicious if a policeman’s voice didn’t quiver when he got a call about the murder of a colleague.’
‘I’m more concerned about Delta and the Ops Room,’ Katrine said.
‘Yes, I know,’ Beate said. ‘Too much going on to avoid Bellman’s attention. Hagen is informing him as we speak.’
‘And what happens to our group when he finds out?’
‘If this has a chance of succeeding, that’s a minor matter, Katrine.’ Beate impatiently rubbed the button dangling from her ear. ‘Let’s make a move. No point hanging around here and being seen. And don’t leave anything behind.’
Katrine had taken a step towards the door when she froze.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ståle asked.
‘Didn’t you hear it?’ she whispered.
‘Hear what?’
She raised one foot and sent Bjørn a narrow-eyed look. ‘The crunching noise.’
Beate laughed her surprisingly light laugh while, with a deep sigh, the Skreia native took out his notebook and crouched down again.
‘Well, I’ll be. .’
‘What?’
‘It’s not crumbs,’ he said, leaning forward and peering under the table. ‘Old chewing gum. The rest is stuck under here. It’s probably so desiccated that bits crumble off.’
‘Perhaps it’s the murderer’s?’ Ståle suggested with a yawn. ‘People stick chewing gum under their seats in cinemas and on buses, but not under their own dining-room table.’
‘Interesting theory,’ Bjørn said, holding up a piece to the window. ‘I reckon for months we could have found DNA in the spit of a lump like that. But this is all dried out.’
‘Come on, Sherlock,’ Katrine grinned. ‘Chew it and tell us what brand-’
‘That’s enough, you lot,’ Beate interrupted. ‘Out now.’
Arnold Folkestad set down his teacup and looked at Harry. He scratched his red beard. Harry had seen him plucking spruce needles from it when he came to work, after cycling from the little house he had somewhere in the forest that was still so bizarrely close to the city centre. But Arnold had made it clear that colleagues who pigeonholed him as a progressive environmental activist because of his long beard, bicycle and house in the forest were wrong. He was only a tight-fisted weirdo who liked the silence.
‘You’d better tell her to rein herself in,’ Harry said. ‘It would seem more. .’ He couldn’t find the word. Didn’t know if it existed. If so, it was somewhere between ‘correct’ and ‘less embarrassing for all concerned’.
‘Is Harry Hole frightened of a little girl in the front row who’s got a bit of a crush on her lecturer?’ Arnold Folkestad chuckled.
‘More correct and less embarrassing for all concerned.’
‘You’re going to have to sort this out yourself, Harry. Look, there she is. .’ Arnold nodded towards the square outside the canteen window. Silje Gravseng was standing on her own a few metres from a throng of students chatting and laughing. She looked up at the sky, followed something with her eyes.