Karin Fossum: The Murder of Harriet Krohn

“I’ve never felt that. I’ve always felt driven.”

“Driven to gambling addiction and embezzlement?”

“Yes. You talk like all the rest of them. The ones that say you can just choose and stop doing all those destructive things. It points to a lack of imagination and knowledge of what a human being is.”

“And what is a human being?”

Charlo shuts his eyes. “There are probably as many answers as there are human beings. And I hate all that guff about free will.”

“Because you feel you haven’t got it. But many people would maintain that they do have it. You’re envious, and so you dismiss the term.”

“You’re very psychological.”

“It’s part of my job. But really, I’m genuinely curious about all types of people.”

“I’m not particularly interesting.”

“You must let others be the judges of that. You can’t know how others perceive you.”

Suddenly Frank comes bouncing up with something in his mouth.

“Well, my goodness,” Sejer says bending down. “This rascal’s found a bone!”

“It looks rotten,” Charlo says.

“It doesn’t matter. Look how proud he is.”

“Yes, their lives are simple.”

“And yours is more complicated?”

“As things stand,” Charlo says, “the rest of my life is a blur. I can’t make anything out clearly.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic.”

“Yes. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Feel free to tell me. I’m sitting here.”

“I’m just trying to retain a little dignity.”

“I’ve no plans to rob you of it. It wouldn’t be in my interest. Dignity is an important thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had much.”

“Now you really do sound pessimistic. You’ve paid your debts, got yourself a job, et cetera. Made it up to Julie.”

“Yes, but it’ll be a long road. And I may not even be able to walk.”

“What’s this you’re saying?”

“Nothing.”

Sejer falls silent again, reaches down, and steals the dog’s bone. He growls at once and begins scratching at his trouser leg. They sit there for twenty minutes. Charlo drinks in the sun’s warmth. Now and again he moves his legs carefully to feel that they’re there. They seem healthy; he can twiddle his foot. At the moment.

Sejer asks questions.

Always in that calm tone. There’s nothing threatening about him. Charlo answers. He’s always got to think first. Gradually a weariness settles over his mind, a lack of awareness of what he’s already said. A degree of confusion. He becomes nervous. He feels an overpowering urge to tell all, to move on. To lie down on a bed, close his eyes, and empty his head. No, says a voice inside him. Keep quiet!

“What were you thinking about as you sat in your car behind the hotel?”

“I’m not sure. I was thinking about everything and nothing. My thoughts were all over the place. I wasn’t concentrating. That’s probably why I crashed. Normally I’d have realized that the Toyota wasn’t going to stop.”

“But things weren’t normal?”

“I was in a tight corner. And the collision jarred me out of my reverie. I’m actually very sorry about it. Sometimes I think I should try to get a hold of him to explain and apologize. He was very upset when I began shouting and swearing. I mean, I’m usually polite. My parents were very hot on that. They taught me to behave properly, and I do.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“When I was young and dating Inga Lill, I did everything by the book. I had a job and a house. Plenty to offer. It’s funny to think of that now.”

“But then you lost it all? Tell me how it all started.”

“It was like being caught in an undertow. The gambling. The wins. The losses were merely a necessary part of it; each win made up for everything. Have you ever tried it?”

“No, I never gamble. No pools, no lottery. I don’t play board games, either. I’ve got a grandson, and I’ve looked after him all through his childhood. I’ve read to him, taken him to the cinema, played football, run through the forest with him, taken him on trips. But I’ve never played a game with him.”

“Why not?”

“I’m scared he might win.”

Charlo looks at him across the desk.

“So, in fact, you’re scared as well. You haven’t left any case unsolved in your entire police career.”

“So you read that article?”

“Julie found it in the paper.”

“Does it make you nervous?”

“No. I’m impressed, of course. But that record will be broken sometime. Perhaps it will be broken this year. Because you can’t find the Hamsund murderer.”

“I haven’t given up hope. I’m tenacious.”

“Certainly. But perhaps he is, too. Have you considered that?”

“Frequently.”

Once more, Charlo glances over at Frank.

“You really have trained that dog well. Even though he’s still a puppy. How did you manage it?”

“It’s a mystery to me as well. But Frank does what I tell him. It’s a gift that’s fallen into my lap. I deserve no credit for it. What about you and horses? Have you got a good rapport with them?”

“Yes, I find it as easy as pie. I just react to them naturally. It’s a matter of reading them. They send out a mass of signals that have to be read.”

“But how did you learn to do it?”

“It’s just a natural talent, I think. Nothing I deserve any credit for.”

Sejer clasps his hands behind his head and stretches in his chair.

“But you deserve credit for something, surely?”

“I really don’t know what for. Well, yes, I do work hard for Møller. And I look after Julie. That’s good, if a little belated, if you know what I mean.”

“Has she got any other adults she can turn to?”

“No, only friends her own age. Why d’you ask?”

“I just wondered. You said that the rest of your life is a blur. Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s almost grown up?”

“It is good.”

“Let’s return to Fredboesgate.”

“I don’t particularly want to.”

“I understand that, Mr. Torp. But we must.”

“I’m not going to go back to it at all. I find it obnoxious. I think I’ve said enough.”

“Did something happen there that you don’t want to talk about?”

“I think I’ve said what there is to say. I’m sorry, but I’ve nothing more to give.”

“Not even a few small details?”

“Especially not details.”

“D’you find them unpleasant?”

“I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have a lawyer.”

Sejer nods. “It’s up to you. Do you need one?”

“No, I haven’t done anything.”

“In that case, you can tell it just the way it was. You bought a bunch of flowers to gain access to Harriet Krohn’s kitchen. They were on her kitchen counter, Mr. Torp. A lily, roses, and anemones.”

“Yes, I remember the bouquet, but they were for Julie.”

“Describe the bouquet you bought.”

“For Christ’s sake. There were several sorts of flowers. I don’t know the names of any of them.”

“But you said you remembered it. Maybe you remember the colors?”

“Well, there was some pink and blue. I didn’t ask for anything in particular. I just asked her to make up a mixed bouquet.”

“And it ended up in a garbage can where?”

“Possibly it was at the Shell service station at the top of Oscarsgate. I stopped there after I’d been to Julie’s.”

“Why?”

“Er, I went into the shop.”

“Yet another visit you’ve forgotten. You said you didn’t go in anywhere.”

“Yes, but I’m starting to get tired. It’s hardly surprising I’m getting muddled.”

“Absolutely, I quite see that. It’s why I’m continuing to ask questions. Because it’s my belief that, sooner or later, we’ll get to the important matters.”