prosecutorstated. 'Thank you, gentlemen.'
'Itcan't have been Skau,' Frølich said after the two policemen were ontheir own. 'How the hell would he have got access to a computer in custody?'
'Absolutely.Sounds unlikely.'
'Butwhy didn't you say anything? Why should we leave here with that man'sconclusions?' Frølich asked, tossing his head in the direction of thepublic prosecutor's door.
'Ihad my reasons,' the policeman said in a cutting tone. 'What I'm wonderingabout is what kept you last night.'
'Iwent back to sleep after you rang. Sorry.'
'Didyou go back to bed after I had dragged you out of it?'
Frølichgave a sleepy smile. 'I had my reasons.'
'Butif you leave me to do the dirty work on my own, don't stick your nose in mybusiness, as you tried to do here,' Gunnarstranda chided, annoyed.
Gunnarstrandawent down the stairs with Frølich in his wake. He already had acigarette out. 'Fristad wants a simple, easy-to-follow case to plead. For thathe needs evidence. He's relying on you and me to know what we are doing. And hewants more than half the glory. At the moment he thinks he's helped us on ourway. So we have a free hand for a while yet.'
'Afree hand to do what?'
'Tofind evidence, of course.'
'Whatevidence?'
'Mydear colleague,' Gunnarstranda said in a patronizing voice. 'Hasn't it occurredto you that the DNA sample they found under Katrine's nails may not belong toeither Kramer or Skau?'
'Haveyou been told that?' Frølich quizzed.
'Ihaven't been told anything, but I intend to find out.'
Chapter Forty
BenteKramer trudged up the hill the police station bestrode like a castle at the endof a footpath. A man wearing a cowboy hat was taking his dog for a walk on thegreen grass stretching across to Oslo prison. A group of homeless tramps werehaving a meeting on a bench under one of the trees. Bente Kramer stopped tocollect her breath. A uniformed woman with a contented face and blonde hair ina pony-tail under a police cap came striding down the hill. Bente nodded toher. The policewoman nodded back, and puckered her brow in a questioning frown.Bente put on a tired expression and battled on. Having come this far, she wouldmanage the last bit.
Insidethe heavy doors, she stopped and watched the hectic activity around thereception desk.
'Iwould like to speak to Police Inspector Gunnarstranda,' she said to thekindest-looking of the men.
'Haveyou got an appointment?'
BenteKramer shook her head.
Thepolice officer picked up a telephone and called. A tired-looking man smellingof stale beer and garlic pushed to the front and shouted something across thedesk. The man with the telephone ignored him and, with the receiver under hischin, asked: 'What's it about?'
Bentecleared her throat. 'It's about a ring,' she said. 'Tell him it's Bente Kramerwith a ring that belonged to Katrine Bratterud.'
PART 3: THE LAST FIX
Chapter Forty-One
Thescratch marks down his chest and side had faded; now they were mere pale,almost invisible red lines, not unlike the marks after a hot night with thewoman you love. Beneath the nipple on his right hand side her nail had dug intohim leaving a cut which was also healing now. With his eyes closed, he couldstill conjure up the sensation of her fingers scratching him, freezing, asdeath finally came to his rescue in the grass and took her into shadowland asviolent jerks shook the young body for five seconds. Her final, but presumablyher greatest climax ever. A gift – delivered after a few tender moments ofdoubt from his side. She had thought he was going to mount her. She had feltthe pressure from his stiff member against her body and assumed he wanted totake her. She had relaxed in the hope she would be allowed to live. He had readthat in her blue eyes. Eyes that now – at this very second – caused him to bendhis head in pain and doze as the sweat broke out over his entire body – still -so long afterwards. just do it, said the blue eyes. Do what you want.Just let me live. She had almost succeeded in bewitching him – forestallingher own destiny. But only almost. Even now he could still feel the same furyrising inside him. As the fury rose the memory of her eyes could cause him topull up short at any moment, to immerse himself in profound thoughts, a memorythat thus became the best way to maintain his aggression, to think about howshe had just been asking for it – by spreading her legs and opening them wideto let him in. That was when he no longer had any choice. The hardness she feltwas no precursor of sensual pleasure; it was a precursor of death.
Therewould never be such eyes again. He put on a white shirt and quickly tiedhis tie. Inspected himself in the mirror and threw his suit jacket across hisshoulders. Think of her. You're doing it for her. Think of her. Get it overwith.
'Hamlet,'Frølich said with a grin. 'Quite convincing, too. You should go on thestage.'
'Atleast I don't fall asleep,' Gunnarstranda answered, weighing the ring in hishand. Frølich was supporting his chin on his hand and said, 'What's thequestion?'
'Thequestion is: If Henning Kramer posted Katrine's jewellery to Raymond Skau, whydidn't he send this one?' Gunnarstranda held the ring between thumb and firstfinger while squinting through the hole at Frølich.
'Becausehe never posted anything.' Frølich mused on what he had said and atlength asked, 'Do we know if she was wearing this ring on the night of themurder?'
'Eidesennoticed this ring was missing when we found her jewellery. We can prove itbelonged to Katrine.'
'IfKramer had wanted to point the finger of blame at someone else I don't think hewould have left a ring in his room that clearly belonged to her… so the logicalexplanation must be that Kramer never posted any jewellery anywhere.'
'You'regetting warm, Frølich. Kramer didn't send any jewellery. All he had wasthis ring. Someone else must have posted the jewellery to Skau, and if there isa someone else, it must be a person who first killed Katrine Bratterud and thenHenning Kramer. And then,' Gunnarstranda grunted, 'we're facing a problem I donot understand at all.'
'What'sthat?'
'Idon't understand why Kramer had to die.'
'Hemust have known something.'
Gunnarstrandachewed on that. 'Possible,' he said. 'If you're right, Kramer must have invitedthe murderer over the night he was killed. That may also explain why he lied toyou about what happened the night Katrine was killed. He may have suspectedsome people, or a particular person. And called him.'
'Whywould he have called the killer?' a sceptical Frølich frowned.
'Becausehe was killed at home in his brother's flat, not in his room. Henning Kramerwas quite unpredictable as regards where he spent the night…' Gunnarstrandamumbled with closed eyes. 'Well, that's how it must have been. Kramer asked tomeet up and that resulted in his death. Afterwards the suicide letter was written.Since Kramer is dead, to all outward appearance by his own hand, it's easier topoint suspicions in his direction than Skau's, who is alive and can still issuedenials. For all the killer knows, Skau has an alibi. Looking at the facts,what do we know so far?'
'Weknow the killer was not a random assailant. He must have been in her circle ofacquaintances.'
Gunnarstrandanodded.
'Weknow the killer must have known about the connection between Katrine and Skau.'
Gunnarstrandagrinned. 'You're the one who's so keen on the theatre. What would Holberg'sErasmus Montanus have said?'
'Astone cannot fly. Mother Nille cannot fly. Ergo… is mother Nille a stone…?' Frølichventured.
Gunnarstrandashook his head. 'We know that Katrine rang friends and acquaintances beforegoing to the party. We know Katrine made at least five calls and later thatnight she was murdered. Ergo,' he mumbled, 'it's possible the motive is to befound in the phone calls.'