Karin Fossum - The Murder of Harriet Krohn

“And what are those?”

“The murder of Harriet Krohn. Answer me this, Mr. Torp: what kind of weapon did you have with you?”

“I didn’t have any weapon.”

“A baseball bat?”

“No.”

“A hammer, perhaps?”

“Didn’t you hear? I said no. I didn’t have any weapon!”

“Just flowers?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Now I’m getting confused. Can’t you go a bit more slowly?”

“I’m sorry.”

Sejer leans back defensively.

“So, you walked to Miss Krohn’s house, armed only with flowers?”

Charlo keeps silent. What was it he just admitted?

“No, I didn’t go to Miss Krohn’s house.”

Sejer leans forward once more.

“Come on, Mr. Torp. Don’t start going up a blind alley again, or we’re never going to get anywhere.”

“And where are we supposed to get to?”

“To the truth. We’re going to get to the truth.”

“And what is the truth according to you? That I killed Harriet Krohn?”

“You’re the one with the answers here. The explanations. I’m not going to second-guess. But I can be plain and ask you directly. Did you kill Harriet Krohn?”

“No.”

“She was alive when you left the house — is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

He puts his hands to his head. Expels the air from his lungs, tries to twist away. “She was lying on the floor. In the kitchen.”

He hunches in his chair and hides his face in his hands. He’s fallen over the precipice.

“Why?”

“I gave her a little push.”

He looks up at Sejer again, wishing to save what he can.

“That’s how you’d describe it? A push?”

“Yes. But she was quite thin and fragile, and she may have struck the kitchen unit as she fell. She may have passed out.”

“And you left her there, lying by the kitchen unit?”

“Yes. I got panicky, you know. I thought perhaps she’d injured herself.”

“You can do better than that, Mr. Torp. There was a great deal of blood in the kitchen. You knew for a fact she was injured. And you panicked?”

“Yes.”

“But not enough to leave the silver behind. Did you find some cash, too?”

Charlo grimaces. “Yes, I found a few kroner in her bedroom.”

He looks past Sejer and out of the window, at the clouds.

“Can you be a little more exact about the amount?”

“Well, several thousand-krone notes.”

Sejer nods to himself.

“So there was no lottery win?”

“No, I just made it up.”

“Why did you push her?”

“Because she went mad when I opened her sideboard. She attacked me from behind and began screaming and scratching. I became desperate; I admit it. You see, I get like that sometimes. I couldn’t understand why she was getting so worked up about her silver.”

“So you pushed her hard?”

“Not especially hard. She came at me again and carried on. I remember thinking how greedy she was for that silver, as if it was the most precious thing she had. She could have let me take it without a fuss, and she’d have fared better.”

“She’s dead, Mr. Torp. She was killed.”

“Well, I just can’t understand that because, as I said, I only gave her a push. She ran into the kitchen, and I ran after her and pushed her again. And of course it was just my luck that her forehead hit the edge of the metal draining board, but that was what happened. And I don’t regard it as murder; I mean, it was an accident. Not something I’d planned in advance.”

Sejer makes notes and says nothing. Charlo’s mouth is dry, but his glass is empty. He waits, his mind in turmoil.

“Mr. Torp,” Sejer says slowly. “You’ve come a long way, and I’m grateful for that. But you’re leaving out certain important facts. Your explanation isn’t quite full enough.”

“It happened just the way I said. I was only interested in her silver. I got agitated and gave her a shove.”

“But we’ve examined the victim carefully. And her injuries don’t concur with your account. In other words, we’ve got a problem. I must ask you to go into more detail.”

“I’ve already said that I don’t like going into details. I think I’ve given you a lot now. I’ve bent over backward.”

“You’re to be commended for that. We’re definitely getting somewhere. But if Miss Krohn had fallen and struck the unit, she would have had a lump on her forehead. The fact is that the victim sustained severe injuries. What did you hit her with?”

“I didn’t hit her. I sort of pushed her away from me, because she was clinging onto me like a leech. She was really irritating me.”

“According to our experts, the weapon was probably metal, with some kind of sharp edge. Have you got any suggestions?”

“It must have been the edge of the draining board.”

“It’s not sharp; it has more of a rounded profile. I saw that for myself when I was in the house.”

“I haven’t got anything more to contribute. Nothing more to say.”

“When did you arrive at her house?”

“At about ten o’clock.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was at my wits’ end, as I said. I rang the bell and she came to the door. I said I had a flower delivery and that I needed a signature. So she went back into the house to fetch her glasses and I followed her. I caught sight of the sideboard at once, and thought that the valuables would be inside it. I opened it and pulled out the drawers. There was a lot of silver, and it was old. But then she got really irate. She flew at me and I hit out as best I could to keep her off me. I suppose it seems ridiculous; she looked so frail. But just then she was strong and totally beside herself. I thought that was stupid. I wasn’t going to do anything to her. She rushed into the kitchen and I followed. Then I pushed her against the unit. She collapsed on the floor. And I was very concerned about that, obviously, but I was worried about getting away.”

“How did you transport the silver?”

“I put it in a cotton bag I had with me.”

“And the money?”

“I found it in her bedroom, inside a wardrobe.”

“And then?”

“Then I left the house. I got into the car. Naturally I was a bit shaky. But it was all over quite quickly. I smoked a roll-up and started the car. Drove down to the railway station. And had the collision. That was when I really brimmed over, as I’ve already explained.”

“What did you do with the weapon?”

“I didn’t have a weapon. I’m just a common burglar. You can’t get me for anything else.”

“You’ll be charged with murder and aggravated burglary. That’s quite a different matter.”

“Ask the pathologist to check in case she had a stroke or a hemorrhage from the shock. Because I didn’t kill anyone. I’m not like that.”

Sejer leans back in his chair, seeming to relax a bit. For an instant, he closes his eyes.

“She had multiple skull fractures,” he says at length. “Thirteen in all.”

“Old people have brittle bones. They can’t take much.”

“When did you decide to go to Harriet Krohn’s?”

“When I was wandering around the town frantically seeking a solution.”

“You said you hadn’t planned it.”

“Yes, it was done on impulse.”

“But you’d brought along a cotton bag for the silver. Did you bring it from home?”

Charlo bites his lip. “Can I have some Farris?”

Sejer nods and gets up to fetch a bottle from the fridge.

“No, the bag was already in the car. It’s Julie’s old gym bag; it was just lying in the back seat.”

“How convenient, Mr. Torp.”

“Yes.”

“Let me explain. There was a great deal of blood in the kitchen. And a big pool around the corpse. You don’t get that amount of blood when someone falls and strikes their head on a sharp edge.”