Jo Nesbo - The Leopard

‘In a way,’ Harry said. ‘But she went to Ekeberg restaurant pri marily to be seen and adored, I think. And for the free drinks from faded dance-floor kings, of course. No one ever saw Killer Queen go home with any of them. Perhaps that was what fascinated us. A woman who’d had to go down a league or two for admirers, but in a way still had style.’

‘And then what?’

‘Oystein and Tresko said they would each buy me a whiskey if I dared ask her to dance.’

They crossed the tramlines and drove up the steep hill to the restaurant.

‘And?’ Kaja said.

‘I dared.’

‘And then?’

‘We danced. Until she said she was sick of having her feet trodden on and it would be better if we went for a walk. She left first. It was August, hot, and, as you can see, there’s only forest round here. Thick foliage and loads of paths to hidden places. I was drunk, but still so excited that I knew she would be able to hear the tremor in my voice if I said anything. So I kept my trap shut. And that was fine, she did all the talking. And the rest, too. Afterwards she asked me if I wanted to go home with her.’

Kaja sniggered. ‘Oooh. And what happened there?’

‘We can talk about that during the meal. We’re here.’

They came to a halt in the car park, got out and walked up the steps to the restaurant. The head waiter welcomed them at the entrance to the dining area and asked for the name. Harry answered that they hadn’t reserved a table.

The waiter could barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

‘Full for the next two months,’ Harry snorted as they left, after buying cigarettes at the bar. ‘I think I liked the place better when water was leaking into the restaurant and rats squealed at you from behind the toilets. At least we could get in.’

‘Let’s have a smoke,’ Kaja suggested.

They walked over to the low brick wall from where the forest sloped downwards into Oslo. The clouds in the west were tinged with orange and red, and the queues of traffic on the motorway glittered like phosphorescence against the blackness of the town. It seemed to be lying there in wait, keeping watch, Harry thought. A camouflaged beast of prey. He tapped out two cigarettes, lit them and passed one to Kaja.

‘The rest of the story,’ Kaja said, inhaling.

‘Where were we?’

‘Killer Queen took you home.’

‘No, she asked if I wanted to go. And I politely declined.’

‘Declined? You’re lying. Why?’

‘Oystein and Tresko asked me that when I got back. I told them I couldn’t just leave when I had two pals and free whiskey waiting for me.’

Kaja laughed and blew smoke over the view.

‘But of course that was a lie,’ Harry said. ‘Loyalty had nothing to do with it. Friendship means nothing to a man if he has a tempting enough offer. Nothing. The truth is that I didn’t dare. Killer Queen was simply in the scariest league of all for me.’

They sat silent for a while. Listening to the hum of the town and watching the smoke curl upwards.

‘You’re thinking,’ Kaja said.

‘Mm. I’m thinking about Bellman. How well informed he is. He not only knew I was coming to Norway, he even knew which flight I was on.’

‘Perhaps he has contacts at Police HQ.’

‘Mm. And at Lake Lyseren today Skai said that Bellman had rung him about the rope the same evening that we’d been at the ropery.’

‘Really?’

‘But Beate says she didn’t tell Bellman about the rope until the morning after we’d been there.’ Harry followed the glow of tobacco on its flight over the slope. ‘And Bjorn has been promoted to coordinator for forensics and strategic planning.’

Kaja stared at him in surprise. ‘That’s not possible, Harry.’

He didn’t answer.

‘Bjorn Holm! Would he have kept Bellman informed about what we were doing? You two have worked together for so long, you’re… friends!’

Harry shrugged. ‘As I said, I think…’ He dropped his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it with a swivel of his heel. ‘… friendship means nothing to a man if he has a tempting enough offer. Do you dare join me for today’s special at Schroder’s?’

I dream all the time now. It was summer and I loved her. I was so young and thought that if you wanted something enough it was yours to have.

Adele, you had her smile, her hair and her faithless heart. And now Aftenposten says they have found you. I hope you were as foul on the outside as you were on the inside.

It also says they’ve put Inspector Harry Hole on the case. He was the one who caught the Snowman. Perhaps there’s hope, perhaps the police can save lives after all?

I’ve printed out a photo of Adele from the Verdens Gang website and pinned it on the wall, next to the torn page from the Havass cabin guest book. Including mine, there are only three more names now.

The Special AtSchroder’s was bubble and squeak served with fried eggs and raw onions.

‘Nice,’ said Kaja.

‘The cook must be sober today,’ Harry agreed. Then he pointed. ‘Look.’

Kaja turned and looked up at the TV Harry was indicating.

‘Well, hello!’ she said.

Mikael Bellman’s face filled the screen, and Harry signalled to Rita that they wanted the volume up. Harry studied the movements of Bellman’s mouth. The soft, quasi-feminine features. The gleam in the intense brown eyes beneath the elegantly formed eyebrows. The white patches, like sleet on his skin, didn’t disfigure him, quite the contrary, they made him more interesting to look at, like an exotic animal. If his number were not ex-directory, as was the case with most detectives, his phone would be full of lusting and love-lorn texters afterwards. Then the sound came on.

‘… at Havass cabin on the night of the 7th of November. So we are appealing to those of you who were there to come forward to the police as quickly as possible.’

Then the newsreader returned and there was a new item.

Harry pushed his plate away and waved for coffee. ‘Let me hear your thoughts about this killer now that we’ve found Adele. Give me a profile.’

‘Why?’ Kaja asked, sipping water from her glass. ‘From tomorrow we’ll be working on other cases.’

‘Just for fun.’

‘Does profiling of serial killers come under your definition of fun?’

Harry sucked on a toothpick. ‘I know there’s a good answer to that, but I can’t think of it.’

‘You’re sick.’

‘So who is he?’

‘It’s still a he, first off. And still a serial killer. I don’t necessarily think Adele was number one.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it was so flawless that he must have kept a clear head. The first time you kill you’re not so clear-headed. Besides, he hid her so well that we definitely were not intended to find her. That suggests he may be behind many of the present missing persons statistics.’

‘Good. More.’

‘Erm…’

‘Come on. You just said that he made a good job of hiding Adele Vetlesen. The first of the murder victims we know anything about. How do the other murders develop?’

‘He becomes bolder, more self-assured. He stops hiding them. Charlotte is found behind a car in the forest and Borgny in a cellar beneath a city centre office block.’

‘And Marit Olsen?’

Kaja mulled this over. ‘It’s too overblown. He’s lost control, his grip is going.’

‘Or…’ Harry said, ‘… he’s gone up to the next level. He wants to show everyone how clever he is, so he starts exhibiting his victims. The murder of Marit Olsen in Frogner Lido is a huge scream for attention, but there are few indications of failing control in the execution. The rope he used was at worst careless, but otherwise he left no clues. Disagree?’