“Yes,” Harry said. “Yes, it’s very helpful. Thanks, Alexandra.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Mm. Good question.”
“Do you want to come around to mine?”
“Like I said, I’m not really in the—”
“We don’t have to do anything. Maybe we could both do with someone to lie next to for a while. You remember where I live?”
Harry closed his eyes. There had been a number of beds, doorways and courtyards since the dam burst, and alcohol had laid a veil over faces, names, addresses. And right now, the image of Valentin Gjertsen was blocking out pretty much everything else from his memory.
“What the hell, Harry? You were drunk, but couldn’t you at leastpretendyou remember?”
“Grünerløkka,” Harry said. “Seilduksgata.”
“Clever boy. An hour from now?”
As Harry hung up and called Kaja Solness, a thought struck him. The fact that he had remembered Seilduksgata regardless of how drunk he had been…he always remembered something, his memory was nevercompletelyblank. Maybe it wasn’t the long-term effects of drinking that meant he couldn’t remember that evening at the Jealousy Bar, maybe there was something he didn’twantto remember.
“Hello, you’ve reached Kaja’s voicemail.”
“I’ve got the motive you were asking about,” Harry said after the bleep. “His name is Valentin Gjertsen, and it turns out that he was Svein Finne’s son. Valentin Gjertsen is dead. He was killed. By me.”
16
Alexandra Sturdza let out a long sound as she stretched her arms over her head so that her fingers and bare feet touched the brass bedstead at either end of the mattress. Then she rolled onto her side, pushed the duvet between her thighs and put one of the big white pillows under her head. She was grinning so much that her dark eyes almost disappeared into her hard face.
“I’m glad you came,” she said, putting one hand on Harry’s chest.
“Mm.” Harry was lying on his back staring into the bright light from the ceiling lamp. She had been wearing a long silk dressing gown when she opened the door for him, then took him by the hand and led him straight into the bedroom.
“Are you feeling guilty?” she asked.
“Always,” Harry said.
“For being here, I mean.”
“Not particularly. It just fits into the scale of indicators.”
“Indicators of what?”
“That I’m a bad man.”
“If you’re already feeling guilty, you might as well get undressed.”
“So there’s no doubt that Valentin Gjertsen was Svein Finne’s son?” Harry folded his hands behind his head.
“No.”
“Christ, it really is an absurd chain of events. Think about it. Valentin Gjertsen was probably the product of a rape.”
“Who isn’t?” She rubbed her crotch against his thigh.
“Did you know that Valentin Gjertsen raped the prison dentist during an appointment? Afterwards he pulled her nylon tights over her head and set light to them.”
“Shut up, Harry, I want you. There are condoms in the drawer of the bedside table.”
