Jo Nesbo - The Redbreast

'OK,' Harry said, walking round the car and through the gate. 'Listen carefully. Stay exactly where you are. If you are holding anything in your hands put it down and keep your hands where we can see them. We'll be there in two seconds.'

Harry walked towards the doorstep, with Waaler and the other policeman following his movements with amazement. He pressed down the door handle and went in.

Fauke was standing in the hall with the telephone receiver in his hand, gaping at them in amazement.

'My God,' was all he could say when he spotted Waaler with the revolver in his hand. 'That was quick…’

‘Where's the bedroom?' Harry asked. Fauke pointed mutely towards the stairs. 'Show us,' Harry said. Fauke led the way for the three officers. 'Here.'

Harry felt the door; quite right, it was locked. There was a key in the lock which he tried to turn, but it wouldn't move.

'I didn't manage to tell you. I was trying to open the door with one of the keys from the other bedroom,' Fauke said. 'Sometimes they fit.'

Harry took out the key and put his eye to the keyhole. Inside he could see a bed and a bedside table. There was what seemed to be a lightshade lying on the bed. Waaler was talking in a low voice on the walkie-talkie. Harry could feel the sweat beginning to filter down the inside of his vest again. He didn't like the look of the lightshade.

'I thought you said there was a key on the inside too?'

'There was,' Fauke said. 'Until I knocked it out trying to get the other key in.'

'So how will we get in?' Harry asked.

'It's on the way,' Waaler said, and at that moment they heard heavy boots running up the stairs. It was one of the officers who had taken up a position behind the house and he was carrying a red crowbar.

'This way,' Waaler said, pointing.

Splinters flew. The door sprang open.

Harry strode in and heard Waaler telling Fauke to wait outside.

The first thing Harry noticed was the dog lead. Even Juul had hung himself with it. He had died wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, black trousers and checked socks. A toppled chair lay behind him in front of the wardrobe. His shoes were neatly placed under the chair. Harry looked up at the ceiling. The lead had been tied to a ceiling hook. Harry tried to refrain, but couldn't stop himself from examining Even Juul's face. One eye stared out into the room while the other was fixed on Harry. Independently. Like a two-headed troll with an eye in each head, Harry thought. He walked over to the window facing east and watched the children cycling along Irisveien, drawn by the rumours of police cars which always spread with inexplicable speed in areas like this.

Harry closed his eyes and reflected. The first impression is important. The first thought that came into your mind at the scene is often the most accurate. Ellen had taught him that. His own trainee had taught him to concentrate on the first thing he felt when he came to the scene of the crime. That was why Harry didn't need to turn to know that the key was on the floor behind him. He knew they wouldn't find any fingerprints in the room and that no one had broken into the house. Quite simply because both the murderer and the victim were hanging from the ceiling. The two-headed troll had split.

'Call Weber,' Harry said to Halvorsen, who had joined them and was standing in the doorway, staring at the hanging body.

'He may have planned a different start to tomorrow's festivities, but console him with the fact that this one is cut and dried. Even Juul discovered the murderer and had to pay for it with his life.'

'And who is it?' Waaler asked.

'Was. He's dead too. He called himself Daniel Gudeson and lived in Juul's head.'

On the way out, Harry told Halvorsen Weber should call him if he found the Marklin.

Harry stood on the doorstep outside and surveyed the area. It was striking how many neighbours suddenly had jobs to do in their gardens and were standing on the tips of their toes to see over the hedges. Waaler came out too and stood beside Harry.

'I didn't quite understand what you said in there,' Waaler said. 'Do you mean the guy committed suicide out of guilt?'

Harry shook his head.

'No, I meant what I said. They killed each other. Even killed Daniel to stop him. And Daniel killed Even so that he wouldn't be unmasked. For once their interests coincided.'

Waaler nodded, but didn't seem to be any the wiser.

'There's something familiar about the old guy,' he said. 'The living one, I mean.'

'Right. It's Rakel Fauke's father, if you -'

'Of course, the totty up at POT. That's the one.'

'Have you got a smoke?' Harry asked.

'No can do,' Waaler said. 'The rest of what happens here is your responsibility, Hole. I'm thinking of leaving, so if you need any help, tell me now.'

Harry shook his head, and Waaler walked towards the gate. 'Oh, by the way,' Harry said. 'If you're not doing anything special tomorrow, I need an experienced officer to take my shift.' Waaler laughed and kept walking.

'You just have to organise surveillance during the service at the mosque in Gronland,' Harry shouted. 'I can see you're pretty good at that sort of thing. We just have to make sure the skinheads don't beat up the Muslims for celebrating Eid.'

Waaler had reached the gate and suddenly stopped.

'And you're in charge of that?' he asked over his shoulder.

'It's no big deal,' Harry said. 'Two cars, four men.'

'How long?'

'Eight till three.'

Waaler turned round with a broad smile.

'Do you know what?' he said. 'Now that I think about it, I owe you a favour. That's great. I'll do your shift.'

Waaler saluted, got into the car, started it up and was off.

Owes me a favour for what? Harry mused, and listened to the lazy thwacks of the ball coming from the tennis court. But the next moment he had forgotten because his mobile rang again, and this time the number on the display was Rakel's.

Holmenkollveien. 16 May 2000.

'Are those for me?'

Rakel clapped her hands and took the bunch of daisies.

I couldn't get to the florist, so these are from your own garden,' Harry said, stepping inside the door. 'Mm, that smells of coconut milk. Thai?'

'Yes, and congratulations on the new suit.'

'That obvious, is it?'

Rakel laughed and stroked the lapels.

'Good quality wool.'

'Super no.'

Harry had no idea what Super no meant. In a moment of exuberance he had marched into one of the trendy shops in Hedgehaugsveien as they were closing and had managed to get the sales staff to find him the only suit into which they could fit his long body. Of course, seven thousand kroner was way over what he had intended to pay, but the alternative was to look like something out of a farce in the old suit, so he had closed his eyes, put his card in the machine and tried to forget.

They went into the dining room, where a table was set for two.

'Oleg is asleep,' she said before Harry could ask. There was a silence.

I didn't mean…' she began.

'Didn't you?' Harry said with a smile. He hadn't seen her blush before. He pulled her into him, breathed in the aroma of freshly washed hair and felt her slight tremble.

'The food…' she whispered.

He let her go and she disappeared into the kitchen. The window facing the garden was open and the white butterflies which had not been there yesterday fluttered like confetti in the sunset. Inside it smelled of green soap and damp wooden floors. Harry closed his eyes. He knew that he would need many days like this before the image of Even Juul hanging from the dog lead would completely go away, but it was fading. Weber and his boys hadn't found the Marklin, but they had found Burre, the dog. In a bin bag in the freezer with its throat cut. And in the toolbox they had found three knives, all bloodstained. Harry guessed that some of the blood was Hallgrim Dale's.