The Owl Always Hunts At Night

by Samuel Bjork

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The plane leaves this Monday. The seminar lasts two weeks and – I’m really sorry to give you so little notice, but how about it? The conference? Do you mind if I go? Is it all right with you?’

  And then it dawned on her. What all this was really about. The tablecloth. The unexpected present. It wasn’t her birthday or their anniversary. He was about to go abroad on short notice, and he felt bad about it.

  ‘Will you manage? Will you be OK?’

  ‘You’re going to Australia on Monday, and you plan to be away for two weeks?’

  ‘Sydney.’ Johannes grinned.

  ‘Yes, of course it’s OK,’ Miriam said.

  ‘Will you really be able to manage? With Marion, I mean?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, of course I will. I can always call Mum. It’s not a problem.’

  ‘Thank you, Miriam,’ Johannes said, taking her hand.

  For the first time in their relationship, Miriam found him being so close to her a little uncomfortable.

  ‘Aren’t you going to try it on?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The watch?’

  ‘Er, yes, of course.’ Miriam strapped the blue fitness watch around her wrist.

  ‘It suits you.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  He squeezed her hand, and Miriam tentatively squeezed his back.

  ‘I think we ought to celebrate, don’t you? The hospital has given me the weekend off. Perhaps Marion could stay with your mum and Rolf one more night? We could go out for dinner or something?’

  ‘Tonight?’

  Will you be there?

  Of course, I’ll be there.

  ‘That would have been wonderful.’ Miriam coughed, reclaiming her hand and picking up her coffee cup. ‘But I promised Julie.’

  ‘Again? Tonight?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘It was stupid, but she’s not feeling too good. The truth is, she’s quite upset.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘But how about tomorrow?’

  ‘Tomorrow would be just as good,’ Johannes said, getting up. ‘I’m going to call Dad.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted.’ Miriam smiled, hiding behind her coffee again while Johannes took out his mobile.

  Chapter 43

  One of the police officers was quite fit, Benedikte Riis had to admit.

  Kim, that was his name; smooth, dark hair falling to the left, quite cute. Not a patch on Paulus, obviously, and yet she could not help feeling flustered, as Helene asked everyone to settle down. The handsome police officer wanted to make an announcement about a piece of paper, a childish drawing, scribbles and a picture of an owl.

  ‘Please, everyone, be quiet. This is important,’ Helene said to them again.

  ‘So, if any of you have seen this note before, or something that looks like it, you must tell us at once,’ the police officer stated, also for the second time, as he circulated copies of the drawing around the tables.

  ‘Those of us who are here will make sure that anyone who isn’t will get to see it as well, won’t we?’

  Helene smiled and nodded at the class, but Benedikte Riis’s mind was already on other things.

  A drawing found in Camilla Green’s locker.

  Whatever.

  She felt a little sick at the thought.

  Camilla Green.

  Everything had been great until the day she turned up, with her silvery laughter and her sparkling eyes. Benedikte had felt it at once; she could tell from the way he acted around her. Paulus. That he liked her. Not that he and Benedikte had ever had sex, let alone kissed, but she had sensed that there was something between them. That he preferred her to the others. He certainly paid her more attention. And although, deep down, she had known that it would never, ever happen, she had not been able to stop herself from hoping that one day he would see it. That she loved him, and that the two of them were meant for each other.

  Paulus and Benedikte.

  She had carved their names into her desk in her room. Inside a heart. Covered it so no one would see. And every time she trailed her fingers over their names, she had felt that they were destined to be together.

  And it had almost been real, it really had; he had shown her his hideaway in the woods, he had shown her the place where he would never bring any of the others; they had hung out together until the day she turned up.

  Camilla Green.

  Benedikte had scarcely been able to hide her jealousy when she realized how obsessed Paulus had become with her. How he showed her around. His arm on her back. His smile, his handsome brown eyes looking at the new girl in a way he had never looked at Benedikte.

  She was glad that Camilla was gone.

  It might be horrible to think such thoughts, but she did. She was glad Camilla was no longer around. All she did was ruin things. Because she did not love Paulus, not like Benedikte did. Camilla was just attention-seeking. The way she tossed her hair. Made eyes at him in the dining hall. That was not true love; it was not the kind of love Paulus and she shared. Benedikte had known it right from day one, when he helped Camilla get her suitcase out of the taxi. Welcomed her. Shown her to her room. She did not want to call her a slut, no, but ever since Camilla Green arrived, things between Paulus and her had not been the same.

  She had to protect him; that was her role, because he did not know what was good for him. Like that business with the plants in the furthest greenhouse. The cannabis plants. Had he shown them to any of the other girls? No, he hadn’t. Only to her.

  I want to show you something, but you can’t tell anyone.

  Because she was the one he really wanted.

  Paulus and Benedikte.

  Her fingers touching the heart on her desk every evening before she kissed it good night.

  ‘So, girls, we’re going to help the police with this note, aren’t we? It’s important.’

  She looked across the room, and then they were back outside, going their separate ways. Benedikte pulled up the hood of her puffa jacket; she could see her cloudy breath in the cold air.

  Something was out of kilter with the world. This cold in October. It was not supposed to be like this. Perhaps it was a sign. That things were not as they should be. That someone had to do something. And now something had happened, hadn’t it? Camilla was gone. Perhaps Paulus would realize it now? The early frost? That he had made the wrong choice?

  She had to see him right away; she could feel it. They had a lot to talk about. The others had been looking for him when the police turned up with that note, but they had not found him.

  But she knew where he was.

  Of course she did.

  Benedikte Riis knew everything there was to know about Paulus. She would often follow him. Spy on him. It was better this way. That he did not always know. He needed someone to look after him.

  The hideout at the far end of the Nurseries. Right up against the neighbouring fence. It was his den. It was where he would hang out. Not many people knew about it, but she did. Because he had taken her there. Shown her how to roll a joint. She had done it many times before, but she had pretended not to know because she liked it, him showing her how.

  And they had smoked pot together, giggling at everything, and since that evening it had almost become a habit; Friday or Saturday evening, the two of them out there, laughing together. Right up until she turned up.

  Camilla Green.

  Sometimes Benedikte would stand outside. Below the window. Without them knowing. Listen to them whispering and laughing together inside.

  ‘Paulus?’

  Benedikte knocked, but there was no reply.

  ‘Paulus?’

  She knocked again, pushed open the small door and cautiously entered the shed.

  Chapter 44

  Tor Olsen, senior curator at the Natural History Museum, was a man in his fifties who looked a little like Albert Einstein, with a mess of white hair standing up
on all sides.

  ‘Finally, there you are,’ Tor Olsen said, showing Mia Krüger into his office. ‘About time, I must say. Coffee, tea, or do we get straight down to business?’

  It was clear that the curator took this very seriously. The break-in at the museum. The missing owls. A dozen patrol cars with flashing blue lights and screaming sirens ought to have turned up ages ago. Mia was bemused but made sure to hide it. She was used to it now. It was not an uncommon reaction when the public first encountered crime. They expected the police to respond immediately. Crack the case, like they did on TV. It was sweet, really, this naivety, but, sadly, very far from the truth. About 130,000 break-ins were reported in Norway last year. Of those, 120,000 had been shelved. Shameful, really. And Mia doubted that already scarce police resources would be made available to solve the theft of some stuffed owls. Thirty-three murders. Twenty-three solved. No cases abandoned. She much preferred this statistic. But break-ins? No, nothing to boast about there. Not her problem, either. She had enough on her plate as it was.

  ‘Happy to get straight down to it.’ Mia nodded.

  ‘Is it just you?’ the absent-minded man said, looking around.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You’re here on your own? Where are the others?’

  Mia concealed another smile.

  ‘You do realize that we have a unique collection here, don’t you? More than two million species from across the world. Mammals, birds, fish, insects, reptiles, molluscs, intestinal worms?’

  ‘Intestinal worms?’

  Olsen looked at her over his glasses. ‘Invertebrates? Single-celled and multicellular organisms?’

  The senior curator shook his head and heaved a sigh. He had already decided that the police had not entrusted an investigation of this magnitude to the right person.

  ‘But only the owls were stolen?’ Mia said.

  ‘Only?’ Olsen said, staring at her. ‘Every type of Norwegian owl gathered in one place may not seem like a lot to you – after all, we only have ten species – but even so, have you any idea how much work I’ve invested in this?’

  ‘I understand.’ Mia nodded gravely. ‘Ten species in Norway? Owls?’

  ‘There is the European pygmy owl, the boreal owl, the short-eared owl, the northern hawk-owl, two types of Eurasian owls, the tawny owl, the great grey owl, the Ural owl, the snowy owl – and the barn owl makes eleven; we have had several sightings of it, but it doesn’t nest in Norway.’

  ‘Good heavens. And where were they exhibited?’

  ‘In our permanent collection. “Native and Non-native Animals”. We rarely make changes to it but, one day, I had this idea. Owls. Norwegian owls. An exciting bird. A mysterious bird. Young people would appreciate it. Increase our visitor numbers? Do you follow?’

  Mia struggled to keep a straight face. She very much doubted that the youth of today would be tempted to look up from their screens to see a unique collection of Norwegian owls displayed at the Natural History Museum.

  ‘I do. Good idea. Great thought.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Olsen smiled. ‘I imagine you would like to inspect the crime scene? And perhaps you would also like to see our collection now that you’re here, anyway?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mia, following him out of the office.

  ‘We call the first display “Under the Sea”,’ Olsen said when they reached the start of the exhibition. ‘As you can see, we have sea scorpions, snake pipefish, mackerel, herring, school sharks …’

  Mia began to suspect that this was a complete waste of time. She was still exhausted after visiting Sebastian Larsen, and she had yet to process the information the social anthropologist had given her. Sects. Orders. Senators and high priests. A kind of darkness she could not comprehend. Here in Norway? She found it hard to believe.

  ‘We call the second display “Mountain Birds”,’ Olsen continued, but Mia was barely listening now. ‘As you can see, there is the European shag, the common murre, the razor-billed auk …’

  She could not shake off the feeling that there was a golden nugget somewhere among all the things that Larsen had told her.

  OTO. Thelemite teaching. Do what thou wilt shall be the law. Nonsense, most likely. A bunch of harmless idiots, at best. But combined with Camilla in the pentagram of candles and the horrific video they had discovered?

  ‘And the fifth display …’ Olsen went on, but Mia had reached her limit. It was a waste of time.

  ‘And where is the bird display?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, that’s empty now,’ the curator said. ‘We exhibit reindeer in its place. Would you like to—’

  ‘No, I think I’ll stop here.’ Mia smiled.

  Tor Olsen looked surprised.

  ‘I mean, if there’s nothing to see, then I’d better leave.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘I’ve learned a lot. You’ve been a great help.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ the curator said.

  On her way out, Mia glanced up and spotted a camera in a corner. ‘You film all the visitors?’

  ‘Yes, but only during opening hours, sadly.’

  ‘And the break-in happened at night?’

  ‘Yes, I told you when I reported it. Haven’t you read the report? I turned up for work, like I always do, at a quarter past seven, and when I—’

  ‘Of course. I’m just double-checking,’ Mia said. ‘So no pictures?’

  ‘No, sadly not,’ the curator said, and let her out of the exhibition.

  ‘Do you get many visitors?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say many – mainly school groups – most people come for the Botanical Gardens. That’s unique, and sometimes they pop in here as well.’

  ‘School groups, did you say?’ Mia said, interested now. ‘Do you have a list of such visits?’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Olsen nodded. ‘But Ruth keeps it.’

  The Botanical Gardens. Hurumlandet Nurseries. Plants. Flowers. It was a shot in the dark, but it was worth a try.

  ‘And Ruth isn’t here now?’

  ‘No, Ruth has gone to Gran Canaria. She has rheumatism and gets the trips paid for by the state. The warm weather is good for her joints, you know.’

  ‘Please would you ask Ruth to send me a list of schools that visited the museum in the time leading up to the break-in? When she comes back?’

  Mia found her card in her inside pocket, and gave it to him.

  ‘She’ll be back on Tuesday. And yes, of course I will,’ the senior curator said, looking at her card.

  When he had read it, his eyes widened. ‘Homicide unit? But …?’

  ‘I’ll expect to hear from you or Ruth, OK?’ She smiled.

  The man with the white hair nodded cautiously, now seeing her in a completely different light. Mia felt his eyes follow her all the way down the stairs and out of the gate.

  What a waste of time.

  She should have spent the day doing something more productive. She looked at her phone. Almost three o’clock. She had managed a few hours’ kip after the strange conversation in Munch’s office. She had left feeling really pissed off but was starting to see that he might have a point. She got into the car as her phone started ringing.

  ‘Yes, Mia here?’

  ‘It’s Holger.’

  She could hear it in his voice. That something had happened.

  ‘Any news?’

  ‘Most certainly,’ Munch said hastily. ‘Kim and Curry had a breakthrough at the Nurseries. Paulus Monsen and one of the girls out there, Benedikte Riis.’

  ‘What about them?’

  Munch disappeared for a moment. Mia could hear that something was going on in the background.

  ‘They’re bringing them down to Grønland to be interviewed. We’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Grønland?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ Mia said quickly, and stuck the key in the ignition.

  Chapter 45

  Mia closed the door softly behind her and went into the small roo
m where Curry was sitting on a chair watching Munch and Kim Kolsø, who had already sat down in the interview room with Paulus Monsen on the other side of the table. The young man with the dark curls looked stressed, his eyes flitting from side to side.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked, sitting down on the chair next to Curry.

  ‘Do you want the short or the long version?’ he said.

  ‘Short, please,’ Mia said, without taking her eyes off the people on the other side of the window.

  ‘We were about to leave when that boy stormed across the yard with the girl chasing after him. He seemed hacked off about something, and she looked as if she had been crying, red-eyed and all upset …’

  ‘This is starting to sound like the long version.’ Mia smiled.

  ‘Ha-ha,’ Curry said.

  He looked better than the last time she had seen him. As if the quarrel with Sunniva had been resolved and he was starting to think like a police officer again.

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Paulus admitted growing cannabis in the greenhouse and being in a relationship with Camilla Green.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘And why didn’t he tell us earlier? How did he explain that?’

  ‘She was under sixteen when it started,’ Curry said. ‘Nice guy, eh?’

  He leaned closer to the glass as if to scrutinize the young man.

  ‘Chats up minors, persuades them to come with him to his hideaway, where he gets them high on dope before taking advantage of them.’

  ‘Hideaway?’

  ‘He had a kind of love nest on the far side of the estate.’

  ‘And have we had a look at it?’

  ‘Forensics are there now.’ Curry nodded, leaning back again.

  ‘I didn’t know what to say,’ said the young man in the interview room.

  Mia turned down the volume in order to hear the rest of Curry’s update.

  ‘And what about the girl? Benedikte?’

  ‘She’s in interview room B.’

  ‘Has anyone talked to her yet?’

  Curry shook his head.

  ‘And what’s her part in all this? Why did you bring her in?’

  Mia found a lozenge in her jacket pocket and looked at Paulus, who was sitting very still now.