The Last Fix

by K. O. Dahl

  'But why would Fossum lie?' Frølich asked. 'Everyone has confirmed that three people went to Smuget. Everyone has confirmed that those two stayed together. It's very unlikely that she would cover up for Eidesen by lying. She has nothing to gain. We have to suppose that Fossum is telling the truth and that Eidesen has an alibi. If Eidesen had found out Katrine got together with Kramer that night, all he did by way of retaliation was to sleep with Merethe. That is more likely than running off to kill Katrine.'

  Gunnarstranda listened with a thoughtful groove in his brow.

  Frølich continued: 'Gerhardsen is the only person without anyone to hide behind. Suppose Gerhardsen had been turned on by Katrine that night. According to Georg Beck, he was standing on the veranda, touching her up. So we have this fantastic coincidence that two cars leave the party at more or less the same time. They drive down to the city centre. The taxi stops outside Smuget. Kramer parks the Audi in Cort Adelers gate and the two of them walk down to Aker Brygge. Here they queue at a takeaway and buy food; she dances with a down-and-out. Time passes.

  For the sake of argument let's suppose that Gerhardsen never joined Ole and Merethe. After all, he was the gooseberry. Let's say he left them in Aker Brygge where there is no shortage of women. Then he saw Katrine and Kramer. His company car was in the garage close by. We know he took the car, but he might have done that a long time before. He could have taken the car and followed them, and struck when Kramer dropped off Katrine, before driving back home. He could have managed that in the time. Kramer said he dropped off Katrine between half past two and three o'clock. That gives Gerhardsen time to rape, strangle and dump her and still get home by four.'

  They sat looking at each other. Frølich was excited by his speculation. Gunnarstranda was silent.

  'What don't you like about this theory?' the younger policeman enquired.

  Gunnarstranda got out of the chair and began to pace to and fro in the room. 'Nothing really,' he said, grabbing the last dart from the low coffee table. 'But I'm thinking about Henning Kramer. I like his statement less and less. We don't know, as far as self- control goes, whether he has a low threshold.' Gunnarstranda leaned towards the window, thinking, while his right hand fidgeted with the green dart.

  'And if he's lying,' he mumbled, 'he's doing that to hide something, and what else could he have to hide other than…?'

  '… her murder?' Frølich concluded. They sat without speaking. Gunnarstranda fiddled with the dart. Frølich coughed. 'But can we afford not to examine Gerhardsen's company car?' he asked at length. 'If Katrine was in the car, we are bound to find substantiating evidence.'

  Gunnarstranda nodded. 'We can't afford not to,' he mumbled.

  The telephone rang. Gunnarstranda strode over to his desk and grabbed it. Frølich stood up and began to search for the dart that had disappeared behind the files on the shelf. He gave up and instead turned towards Gunnarstranda who was nodding and grunting on the telephone: 'Yes… yes… yes… right… well, well…'

  He cradled the telephone.

  They stared at each other. 'What jewellery did Katrine own again?' Gunnarstranda asked.

  'Apart from the piercing?' Frølich frowned. 'There would have been quite a bit of gold. Rings, a gold bracelet and most likely a gold chain, a bracelet made of ivory… all we know for sure is that she was wearing some earrings that night, two gold cannabis leaves. A present from Eidesen - but we have just his word for that.' He grinned and looked up with a questioning expression.

  Gunnarstranda was weighing the green dart in his hand. 'Duck,' he said and took aim.

  Frølich kicked and rolled his chair back, out of the line of fire; Gunnarstranda threw. Bullseye. 'That was Yttergjerde,' he said with a smug grin. 'Yttergjerde and a couple of other policeman broke into Raymond Skau's flat. No one has seen hide nor hair of Skau, but in his flat they found some lady's jewellery among which was a pair of gold cannabis leaves designed as earrings.'

  'Raymond Skau?'

  Gunnarstranda nodded.

  'He's got Katrine Bratterud's jewellery?'

  'Time will tell,' Gunnarstranda said. 'Only Eidesen can give a satisfactory answer to the question of whether it is her jewellery.' He stood up. 'So now I have an excuse to get him back here. You continue the field work in the meantime - in particular, check out anything connected with Henning Kramer.'

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Epitaph

  Ole Eidesen sauntered down the corridor with his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. He was wearing a white tracksuit top with a colourful design on the front, some kind of aquarium with either sperm cells or tadpoles swimming around. The white tracksuit bottoms had a grass stain on one knee and seemed too big: they smothered his white trainers. Gunnarstranda's white porcelain teeth sparkled at the sight; he held the door wide open for the close- cropped, monk-like visitor who had to bend at the knees to shake hands - it was almost like a courteous bow. Eidesen stopped the second he was inside. The cuts on his face were still red and angry, and his eyes were drawn to Gunnarstranda's desk. The paper had been tidied away, but the table space between the computer and the electric typewriter was littered with small objects.

  'Take all the time you need and point out the things you think may have belonged to Katrine,' the police inspector said, guiding Ole Eidesen to the desk.

  In the space there was a rusty old razor, a brass- coloured cylinder containing lipstick, a china hash pipe, a lump of black Afghani hash wrapped in transparent plastic, two gold earrings in the shape of cannabis leaves, a box of matches, a half-used sheet of contraceptive pills, two gold rings, one in the shape of a snake, the other with a green stone inset. A black disposable lighter with a figure 1 on the side stood next to a driving licence, a braided gold necklace, an ivory bracelet, a selection of thinner bracelets of unknown material and a small black shoulder bag.

  Eidesen stared long and hard at the objects, then his eyes wandered over to the policeman.

  'Take your time,' Gunnarstranda said, taking a seat, 'Take all the time you need.'

  Eidesen cleared his throat and pointed to the bag. 'Could I see that, please?'

  'The bag? Of course. Have a careful look.' Leaning back, the policeman pulled a drawer out of the desk and placed one foot in it. 'Take your time and take care.'

  'This is hers,' Eidesen said, examining it.

  'Sure?' the policeman asked.

  'Yes.'

  'How can you be so sure?'

  'It was a present from me.' Eidesen pointed to the earrings. 'And these.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Yes, I'm sure.'

  'If I say I bought the cannabis leaves off someone in Markveien what would you say?'

  Eidesen frowned. 'You may have done, but not the bag. I recognize it.' He opened it and turned out the white lining. 'See,' he said. 'She spilt nail varnish in it and I recognize the stain. This is her bag; I bought it in Spain. There are not very many bags of this type around. You might be able to trick me, but the earrings, the gold chain, the rings and the ivory bracelet, and the lipstick, Lancome, that colour? They're Katrine's things.'

  'Are you quite sure?'

  'Yes.'

  'Is there anything else you would have expected to see there?'

  'I'm not sure.'

  'And what does that answer mean?'

  'I think she had another ring, one with two diamonds in it.'

  'You mean she was wearing that ring on that night?'

  Eidesen puffed out his cheeks. In the end he shook his head. 'It would be quite strange,' he mumbled, shaking his head gravely, 'if she had not been wearing it. She never took it off.'

  Gunnarstranda nodded. 'Let's hold fire with the ring,' he said. 'Which of these things lying on the table belonged to her?'

  Eidesen gathered the earrings, both rings, the bracelets, the gold chain and the bag into a little pile on the table. 'This, too,' he continued, adding the lipstick. He lifted the sheet of pills. 'Not sure about these.'
>
  'Was she on the pill?'

  'Yes.' He motioned towards the driving certificate. 'Could I see…?'

  '… the driving licence?' Gunnarstranda completed, and nodded. 'Here you are.'

  Eidesen turned over the licence and saw Katrine Bratterud's face. He stood staring at it. 'Where did you find this?' he asked in a thick voice.

  The policeman did not answer. Eidesen shook his head slowly. The photograph of his girlfriend's face had disconcerted him for a few moments.

  'How come this girl had so much valuable jewellery?' the policeman asked.

  'No idea.'

  'Did you give her any - apart from the earrings?'

  'No.'

  'Are they stolen property?'

  Eidesen glanced up and twisted his mouth into a scornful grimace.

  Gunnarstranda sat watching him.

  'There you have it,' Eidesen said, nodding towards the objects. 'Her epitaph - stolen goods.' His mouth had stiffened into a bitter scowl. He was in turmoil.

  Gunnarstranda said nothing.

  Eidesen cast around for something to sit on. Gunnarstranda pointed to the low armchair in the suite beneath the window. 'Please take a seat.'

  'If you could change anything about that evening,' the policeman continued, 'what would you have done differently?'

  Eidesen sighed, raised his head and stared at the wall, deep in thought. 'In fact, I have no idea,' he mumbled.

  'Did you know Henning Kramer picked her up from the party?'

  Eidesen's eyes widened.

  The policeman nodded. 'She made a call from Annabeth s's house and asked Kramer to come and fetch her. He jumped into the car at once and she began to walk down towards the city centre - they met in Voksenkollveien. Did she tell you that Henning would pick her up?'

  Eidesen shook his head in disbelief.

  'She must have left either just before or just after the five of you took the taxi down to the city.'

  'What?'

  'She must have left after you because you didn't pass her. Well, I assume you would have known if your taxi had passed her.'

  Eidesen said nothing.

  'Why do you think she didn't tell you anything about Kramer picking her up?'

  Eidesen waited for a few seconds before answering. 'I don't know what to say,' he said in a low voice. He cleared his throat. 'I don't know what to say,' he repeated. 'It's come as a complete surprise to me.'

  'What was the relationship between Henning Kramer and Katrine?'

  'Relationship?'

  'Yes, were they friends or…?'

  'Lovers? I may have thought that…' He sat looking into space.

  '… was she cheating on you?' suggested the policeman.

  'I didn't say that.' 'Did you cheat on her?'

  'Eh?'

  'Did you go with other women?'

  'No,' said Eidesen.

  'Never?'

  Eidesen shook his head.

  'Not the night she was killed, either?'

  Eidesen looked up at him without saying a word.

  'Come on, Eidesen. I'm not asking you questions for fun. Were you with another woman when Katrine was killed?'

  'You've spoken to Merethe,' Eidesen said, clearing his throat.

  Gunnarstranda heaved a deep sigh.

  'I wanted to wait until you had spoken to her. I had thought about telling you, but wanted to wait.'

  'Eidesen,' Gunnarstranda said with a resigned intake of air. 'Imagine you had been charged as a result of this business and we were about to meet in court. The decision about whether you should be given a custodial sentence or not was hanging in the balance. You would have met your solicitor and do you know what he would have said? He would have whispered in your ear, For God's sake, don't let them catch you lying. If you lie, you weaken your credibility.

  In other words: If you lie once, who can be certain you haven't been lying the whole way through?'

  They sat looking at each other in silence.

  'I would like to change my statement,' Eidesen said at length.

  'What would you like to change?'

  'What I said about the taxi ride home after we were in Smuget.'

  'What actually happened?'

  'I went back to Merethe Fossum's place.'

  'When did you get there?'

  'Between three and four in the morning.'

  'What did you do?'

  'We opened a bottle of wine and went to bed.'

  'Why should I believe this?'

  'Because it's true.'

  'Why did you say something different last time?'

  'I don't know.'

  'At least make this statement more credible.'

  'What do you mean now?'

  'Give me something, something that would help me to believe you,' the policeman shouted in despair.

  'She's got a poster of Audrey Hepburn in her bedroom, a picture from a film… called… Breakfast at Tiffany's…. you know, one of those fifties diva pictures.' 'You could have seen that before - or since.'

  'I met her for the first time at the party.'

  'But you could still have seen the poster in the days that followed the night.'

  'She has a birthmark.'

  The policeman sighed.

  'On the inside of her thigh, high up,' Eidesen said.

  'You could have discovered that since then.'

  'Only if we had been together afterwards, which we haven't.'

  'But why should I bother questioning her so many times?' Gunnarstranda stood up. 'You waste my time with nonsense and lies. You're obstructing my investigation.' He swept an arm towards Katrine's effects. 'Do you want us to arrest the person who created this epitaph for her or not?'

  Eidesen didn't answer. He gently cleared his throat. Gunnarstranda strolled over to the window and placed his palms against the hollow of his back.

  'There is one thing,' Eidesen said in a hoarse voice.

  Gunnarstranda looked up at the blue sky. Over the ridge to the west a flying object was just discernible, a hang glider. He didn't answer, didn't turn around.

  'Katrine did have a very colourful past,' Eidesen said. 'Imagine you were with someone who had done everything with everyone.' ^

  Eidesen fell silent, and at long last Gunnarstranda came away from the window and rested his gaze on him. 'And what do you mean by that?' he asked airily.

  'I don't know,' Eidesen sighed. 'That's what I have to say and either you understand it or you don't.'

  'Do you know any of these men you have in mind?'

  'I'm not interested in any of them.'

  'Did Katrine mention a man called Raymond?'

  'Don't think so.'

  'Raymond Skau?'

  'No.'

  'Quite sure?'

  'I've never heard the name before, neither from her nor anyone else.'

  'What happened on the day of the party? When did you meet?'

  'I was already at home when she arrived. She worked on that Saturday.'

  'At home?'

  'I stayed over at hers, from the Friday. We went to the cinema to see a film called The Matrix. Terrific film, I thought. But I don't think she enjoyed it very much. And it was crazy.'

  'Why was that?'

  'Because she liked that kind of film, action films, I mean, with tough-guy actors, CGI effects and so on, but she was very distant…'

  'Distant?'

  'Yes, distant, but afterwards we went back to her flat in Hovseter. It was late and we went to bed. I woke up as she was going to work… at about a quarter past eight, I think. They opened at nine, so she left in good time to be there for nine.'

  Gunnarstranda moved away from the window. He crossed the floor and sat in the chair opposite Eidesen. 'And you?' he asked.

  'I had a day off, so I stayed in bed. I slept a little, don't remember when I got up, but it was late morning. I went for some exercise, ran down to Bogstad and back, and afterwards I bought a couple of newspapers, read them and made some food for when she came back.'
r />   'When was that?'

  'Afternoon time - half past two - three maybe.'

  'And then?'

  'We ate. She took a shower and so on. I watched football on TV, Molde v Stabæk… finished in a draw, 0-0.'

  'What did she do?'

  Eidesen shrugged. 'Don't remember. She just did her own thing, trying on clothes and so on.' 'Clothes?'

  'Yes, she was a bit stressed about what to wear in the evening.'

  'And otherwise?'

  'She was on the phone…'

  'Who did she ring?'

  'No idea. I was watching the football. It finished at about six.'

  'Did she still seem distant?'

  'A bit. But nervy too. Distant and nervy.'

  Gunnarstranda waited.

  'It was my impression she was in a flap because of the party.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'How do you mean?'

  'Well, she might have talked about other things. Something might have happened at work.'

  Eidesen shook his head.

  'So she didn't say anything about her job?'

  'No.'

  'How many calls did she make?'

  'Several. I wasn't following.'

  'But did you hear what she was talking about?'

  'No. She closed the door. The telephone's in the hallway, and I think the football was making quite a bit of noise, so she closed the door.' 'But how do you know she called several people?'

  'Because she hung up, paced up and down, sat on the sofa for a bit and then called again.'

  'How many calls did she make?'

  'No idea.'

  'More than two?'

  'It must have been.'

  'Three? Four? Five?'

  'Three or four, I guess.'

  'Do you know if she spoke to Sigrid Haugom?'

  'It's possible, but she didn't tell me who she spoke to.'

  'And you weren't curious as to why she made four calls?'

  Eidesen pulled a face and shook his head.

  'That's rather odd,' the policeman said. 'I mean, most people would have wondered what he'd got the girl into, wouldn't they?'