Jo Nesbo - The Redeemer

'Let's begin with the hypothesis,' Harry said, 'that your brother was killed because he had done something to someone. Tricked them, borrowed money off them, insulted them, threatened them, hurt them or whatever. Your brother was a good guy; everyone says that. And that's what we tend to hear in murder cases. People like to emphasise the good sides. Most of us have dark sides though. Don't we?'

Jon nodded, although Harry was unable to decide whether this was a sign of agreement or not.

'What we need is some light shed on Robert's dark sides.'

Jon stared, uncomprehending.

Harry cleared his throat. 'Let's start with money. Did Robert have any financial problems?'

Jon shrugged. 'No. And yes. He didn't exactly live in style so I can't imagine he had incurred huge debts, if that's what you mean. By and large he borrowed from me, if he needed money, I think. By borrowing I mean…' Jon's smile was wistful.

'What sort of sums are we talking about?'

'Not big ones. Apart from this autumn.'

'How much?'

'Er… thirty thousand.'

'For what purpose?'

Jon scratched his head. 'He had a project, but wouldn't expand on it. Just said he would need to travel abroad. I would find out, he said. Yes, I thought it was quite a lot of money, but I live cheaply and I don't have a car. And for once he seemed so enthusiastic. I was curious about what it was, but then… well, then this happened.'

Harry took notes. 'Mm. What about Robert's darker sides, as a person?'

He waited. Studied the coffee table and let Jon sit and think while the vacuum of silence took effect, the vacuum that sooner or later always elicited something: a lie, a despairing digression or, in the best-case scenario, the truth.

'When Robert was young he was…' Jon ventured, then stopped.

Harry, motionless, said nothing.

'He lacked… inhibition.'

Harry nodded, without looking up. Gave encouragement, without disturbing the vacuum.

'I used to dread what he might get up to. He was so violent. There seemed to be two people inside him. One was the cold, controlled investigative type who was curious about… what shall I say? Reactions. Feelings. Suffering, too, perhaps. That sort of thing.'

'Can you give me any examples?' Harry asked.

Jon swallowed. 'Once when I came home he said he had something to show me in the laundry room in the cellar. He had put our cat in a small empty aquarium, where Dad had kept guppies, and stuffed the hosepipe in under a wooden lid on the top. Then he turned the tap on full. Things moved so fast that the aquarium was almost full before I managed to remove the lid and rescue the cat. Robert said he wanted to see how the cat would react, but now and then I have wondered whether it was in fact me he was observing.'

'Mm. If he was like that it's strange no one mentioned it.'

'Not many people knew that side of Robert. I suppose it was partly my own fault. From the time we were small I had to promise Dad I would keep an eye on Robert so that he didn't get into any real trouble. I did what I could. Robert's behaviour was, as I said, not out of control. He could be hot and cold at the same time, if you understand. So only those closest to him had a sense of Robert's… other sides. Well, and the odd frog.' Jon smiled. 'He launched them into the air in helium balloons. When Dad caught him, Robert said it was so sad to be a frog and never be able to get a bird's-eye view. And I…' Jon stared into space and Harry could see his eyes becoming moist. 'I started to laugh. Dad was furious, but I couldn't help myself. Robert could make me laugh like that.'

'Mm. Did he grow out of this?'

Jon shrugged. 'To be honest, I don't know everything Robert has been doing in recent years. Since Mum and Dad moved to Thailand Robert and I have not been so close.'

'Why's that?'

'That sort of thing often happens between brothers. There doesn't have to be any reason.'

Harry didn't answer, just waited. A door slammed in the hallway.

'There were a few incidents with girls,' Jon said.

The distant sound of ambulance sirens. A lift with a metallic hum. Jon breathed out with a sigh. 'Young girls.'

'How young?'

'I don't know. Unless Robert was lying, they must have been very young.'

'Why would he lie?'

'As I said, I think he liked to see how I would react.'

Harry stood up and went over to the window. A man was ambling across Sofienberg Park along a track that looked like an uneven brown line drawn by a child on a white piece of paper. To the north of the church was a small enclosed cemetery for the Mosaic community. Stale Aune, the psychologist, had once told him that hundreds of years ago the whole of the park had been a cemetery.

'Was he violent to any of these girls?' Harry asked.

'No!' Jon's exclamation echoed between the bare walls. Harry said nothing. The man had left the park and was crossing Helgesens gate towards their building.

'Not as far as I know,' Jon said. 'And if he had told me he had been, I wouldn't have believed him.'

'Do you know any of the girls he met?'

'No. He never stayed with them for long. As a matter of fact there was just one girl I know he was serious about.'

'Oh?'

'Thea Nilsen. He was obsessed with her when we were young boys.'

'Your girlfriend?'

Jon gazed thoughtfully into his coffee cup. 'You would think I could keep away from the one girl my brother had made his mind up he would have, wouldn't you? And God knows I have wondered why.'

'And?'

'All I know is that Thea is the most fantastic person I've ever met.'

The hum of the lift came to a sudden stop.

'Did your brother know about you and Thea?'

'He found out that we had met a couple of times. He had his suspicions, but Thea and I have been trying to keep it a secret.'

There was a knock at the door.

'That'll be Beate, my colleague,' Harry said. 'I'll get it.'

He turned over his notepad, placed his pen parallel to it and walked the few steps to the front door. He struggled for a few seconds until he realised it opened inwards. The face he met was as surprised as his own, and for a moment they stood looking at each other. Harry noticed a sweet, perfumed smell, as if the other person used a strong aromatic deodorant.

'Jon?' the man asked tentatively.

'Of course,' Harry said. 'Sorry, we were expecting someone else. One moment.'

Harry went back to the sofa. 'It's for you.'

The instant he flopped down into the soft cushion, it struck Harry that something had happened, right now in the last few seconds. He checked his pen was still parallel with the pad. Untouched. But there was something, his brain had detected something he couldn't place.

'Good evening?' he heard Jon say behind him. Polite, reserved form of address. Rising intonation. The way you greet someone you don't know. Or when you don't know what they want. There it was again. Something happened, something grated. There was something about him. He had used Jon's first name when he asked after him, but it was obvious Jon didn't know him.

'What message?' Jon said.

Then it clicked into place. The neck. The man was wearing something around his neck. A neckerchief. The cravat knot. Harry put both hands on the coffee table to lever himself up, and the cups went flying as he screamed: 'Shut the door!'

But Jon stood staring through the doorway, as if hypnotised. He stooped to listen.

Harry stepped back one pace, jumped over the sofa and sprinted for the door.

'Don't-' Jon said.

Harry aimed and launched himself. Then everything seemed to stop. Harry had experienced it before, when the adrenalin kicks in and changes your perception of time. It was like moving in water. And he knew it was too late. His right shoulder hit the door, his left Jon's hip and his eardrum received the sound waves of the exploding gunpowder and a bullet leaving a gun.