“If I go anywhere that serves strong liquor today, I’ll probably drink myself to death.”
“You came here because we only have a licence to serve beer?”
“And because I can find my way home from here with my eyes closed.”
The plump, stubborn waitress stood there looking at him with a concerned, thoughtful expression. Then she let out a deep sigh. “OK, Harry. But I decide when you’ve had enough.”
“I can never have enough, Nina.”
“I know. But I think you came here because you wanted to be served by someone you trust.”
“Maybe.”
Nina left him and came back with a half-litre of beer that she put down in front of him.
“Slowly,” she said. “Slowly.”
Some way into the third half-litre the door swung open again.
Harry noted that the customers who had raised their heads hadn’t lowered them again, and that their eyes were following the long, leather-clad legs until they reached Harry’s table, where she sat down.
“You’re not answering your phone,” she said, waving Nina away as she approached the table.
“I’ve turned it off.VGand the others have started to call.”
“You have no idea. I haven’t seen such a scrum at a press conference since the vampirist case. And that’s partly because the Chief of Police has decided to suspend you until further notice.”
“What? I get that I’m not allowed to work on this case, but suspended from all duties? Really? Because the press are all over a murder investigation?”
“Because you won’t be left in peace no matter what you’re working on, and we don’t need that sort of distraction right now.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Keep going.” Harry raised his glass to his lips.
“There isn’t anything else.”
“Yes, there is. The politics. Let’s hear it.”
Katrine sighed deeply. “Since Bærum and Asker were moved into Oslo Police District, we’re responsible for a fifth of the population of Norway. Two years ago surveys showed that 86 percent of the population had high or very high confidence in us. That figure has now fallen to 65, thanks to a couple of unfortunate individual cases. And that means our beloved Chief of Police, Hagen, has been summoned to see our rather less beloved Minister of Justice, Mikael Bellman. To be blunt: at the present time, Hagen and the Oslo Police District would not find it remotely helpful if the press were to publish an interview with an unhinged officer who was drunk on duty.”
“Don’t forget paranoid.Paranoid, unhinged and drunk.” Harry tipped his head back and drained his glass.
“Please, Harry, no more paranoia. I’ve spoken to Winter at Kripos, and there’s no evidence to suggest it’s Finne.”
“So whatisthere evidence to suggest, then?”
“Nothing.”
“There was a dead woman lying there, of course there’s evidence.” Harry gestured to Nina that he was ready for his next glass.
“OK, this is what we’ve got from the Forensic Medical Institute,” Katrine said. “Rakel died as the result of a knife wound to the back of her neck. The blade penetrated the part of the medulla oblongata that regulates breathing, between the top vertebra and the cranium. She probably died instantly.”
“I didn’t ask Bjørn about the other two,” Harry said.
“The other two what?”
