Killing Moon

15 Tuesday

Truls looked at his watch. Ten past nine. Markus Røed should have arrived ten minutes ago.

Truls and Harry had pushed the bed against the wall in order to move the desk into the middle of Harry’s hotel room and were now sitting on chairs on one side of the desk looking at the empty chair awaiting the third person. Truls scratched under his arm.

‘Arrogant prick,’ he said.

‘Mm,’ Harry said. ‘Just think about what he’s paying you per hour and that you’re on the clock. That feel better?’

Truls straightened out a forefinger and tapped aimlessly on the laptop in front of him. Thought about it. ‘A bit,’ he grunted.

They had gone carefully through the procedure.

The division of responsibilities was simple. Harry would ask the questions, and Truls would keep his mouth shut and concentrate on the screen without giving away what he saw. That suited Truls just fine, it was after all pretty much what he had been doing at Police HQ for the last three years. Playing patience, online poker, watching old episodes of The Shield and looking at pictures of Megan Fox. But Truls was also supposed to attach the leads with the electrodes to Røed. Two blue and one red on the chest around the area of his heart, one red at the arteries on each wrist. The leads ran to a box which was in turn connected to the laptop by a single cable.

‘Planning on using the good cop/bad cop tactic?’ Truls asked, nodding at the kitchen roll Harry had placed on the table. The routine was that after making the interviewee cry, the bad cop would march out angrily, whereupon the good cop would immediately proffer the paper towels, say a few compassionate words and then just wait for the interviewee to confide in him. Or in her. People thought women were kinder, they were stupid like that. But Truls knew better. Knew better now.

‘Maybe,’ Harry said.

Truls looked at him. Tried to picture Harry in the good-cop role but gave up. Years ago, back when Truls and Mikael Bellman had been partners on the force, Bellman had always been the good cop. He was bloody good at it too, and not just in interviews, the smart, sneaky bastard. So good he was now Minister of Justice. It was fucking unbelievable, considering all the shit the two of them had got up to. On the other hand, it almost made perfect sense. No one had Mikael Bellman’s ability to bury their hands so deep in shit without getting them dirty.

There was a knock at the door.

They had given word to reception to send Røed up when he arrived.

As agreed beforehand, Truls opened.

Røed was smiling, but seemed nervous, Truls thought. His skin and eyes were shiny. Truls showed him in without introducing himself or shaking his hand. Harry took care of the pleasantries, saying they wouldn’t take up much of Røed’s time, asking him to remove his jacket and unbutton his shirt. He held out his hand until Røed passed him his jacket, which Harry hung in the wardrobe. Truls started to attach the electrodes. Placing them to avoid the stripes of scabs above and below both nipples. There were also a couple of bruises. Either Røed had taken a beating from someone, or else that wife of his was a real savage in bed. Or maybe it was one of the girls he provided for.

After Truls had attached the last electrodes to the wrists, he went round to Harry’s side of the desk, sat down, pressed the enter key, and looked at the screen of the laptop.

‘Does it look all right?’ Harry asked.

Truls nodded.

Harry turned to Røed. ‘The questions will be mainly yes or no; polygraph tests are best suited to the analysis of short answers. Ready?’

Røed’s smile appeared a little forced. ‘Fire away, guys, I’ve got to leave in half an hour.’

‘Is your name Markus Røed?’

‘Yes.’

There was a pause, while they looked at Truls, who was looking at the screen. He gave a short nod.

‘Are you a man or a woman?’ Harry asked.

Røed smiled. ‘A man.’

‘Can I hear you say you’re a woman?’

‘I’m a woman.’

Harry looked at Truls, who nodded again.

Harry cleared his throat. ‘Did you kill Susanne Andersen?’

‘No.’

‘Did you kill Bertine Bertilsen?’

‘No.’

‘Have you had sex with one or both of these women?’

The room went silent. Truls saw Markus Røed beginning to blush. Saw him gasp. And sneeze. Twice. Three times. Harry tore off a square of kitchen roll and held it out. Markus Røed reached to the back of the chair as though for his jacket — no doubt had a handkerchief there — before he accepted the paper towel and wiped his nose on it.

‘Yes, I have,’ he said, throwing the paper towel in the wastebasket Harry lifted up. ‘With both of them. But it was consensual for all parties involved.’

‘At the same time?’

‘No, I’m not into that sort of thing.’

‘Did Susanne and Bertine know each other?’

‘Not to my knowledge. No, I’m fairly sure they didn’t.’

‘Because you made sure that they didn’t meet?’

Røed let out a brief laugh. ‘No, I never hid the fact I was seeing other women. And I invited them both to the party, didn’t I?’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did either of these women extort you for money?’

‘No.’

‘Did they threaten to expose your relationship?’

Røed shook his head.

‘Please respond verbally,’ Harry said.

‘No. My relationships were not so secret as to matter. Not that I wanted them to be public knowledge, but I didn’t make much effort to hide them either. Even Helene was aware of them.’

‘Do you think she might have been jealous and killed them?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Helene is a rational woman. She wouldn’t consider the risk of getting caught as being worth the upside.’

‘The upside?’

‘Well. Revenge.’

‘Or killing them to keep you.’

‘No. She knows I’d never leave her for a bimbo. Or two. But that I might if she tried to curtail my freedom.’

‘When did you last meet Susanne or Bertine?’

‘At the party.’

‘And prior to that?’

‘Prior to that it had been a long time since I’d seen them.’

‘Why did you stop seeing them?’

‘I lost interest, I suppose.’ Røed shrugged. ‘The physical aspect is always enticing, but the shelf life of girls like Susanne and Bertine isn’t the same as Helene Røed, if you follow me.’

‘Mm. Did you and or the girls take any controlled substances at the party?’

‘Drugs? Not me, anyway.’

Harry looked at Truls. Truls gave a small shake of his head.

‘You sure?’ Harry said. ‘What about cocaine?’

Truls could feel Markus Røed’s eyes on him but didn’t lift his own gaze from the screen.

‘All right,’ Røed said. ‘The girls had a couple of lines.’

‘Their own cocaine or yours?’

‘There was a guy who brought some.’

‘Who was he?’

‘I don’t know. A friend of one of the neighbours or a guy they buy off, maybe, I don’t know about that sort of thing. If it’s cocaine dealers you’re after, I can’t give you a description either unfortunately, as he was wearing a face mask and sunglasses.’ Røed allowed himself a wry grin, but Truls could see he was irritated. Alpha males tended to be under questioning.

‘But was he white, Norwegian, or—’

‘Yes, white. Sounded Norwegian.’

‘Did he speak to Susanne or Bertine?’

‘Yes, I suppose he must have done if they were snorting his stuff.’

‘Mm. So you don’t use cocaine yourself.’

‘No.’

Harry leaned over to Truls, who responded by discreetly pointing at a place on the screen.

‘Mm. Looks like the polygraph thinks you’re not telling the truth.’

Røed stared back at them like a defiant teenager at his parents. Before giving up with a groan of irritation.

‘I don’t understand what this has to do with the case. Yes, I used to enjoy myself at the weekends. But I made a deal with Helene about not taking anything, and that night I didn’t. OK? And now I must be on my way.’

‘Just one last question. Have you hired or cooperated with anyone in order to kill Susanne Andersen or Bertine Bertilsen?’

‘For fuck’s sake, Hole, why would I do that?’ Røed threw his arms in the air in exasperation, and Truls saw with concern that one of the electrodes was about to come loose from his wrist. ‘Don’t you understand that when you’re in your mid-sixties and have an understanding wife, you’re not exactly afraid of the fact that you’re still able to pull and fuck girls in their twenties coming out? In the circles I move and do business in, it’s rather something which instils respect. It’s proof there’s still enough man left in you to be reckoned with.’ The level of Røed’s voice rose. ‘Enough for people to understand they can’t pull out of handshake deals they’ve made without there being consequences. Do you understand, Hole?’

‘I understand,’ Harry said, leaning back in his chair. ‘But the polygraph test here responds best to yes/no answers. So allow me to repeat the ques—’

‘No! The answer is no, I haven’t ordered any—’ Røed began to laugh as though at the absurdity of the thought — ‘killings.’

‘Right. Thank you for your time,’ Harry said. ‘You should make your next meeting. Truls?’

Truls stood up, walked around the table and removed the electrodes from Røed.

‘By the way, I’ll be asking to talk to your wife,’ Harry said while Røed was buttoning up his shirt.

‘That’s fine.’

‘Asking her, I meant.’ Harry quickly shut the laptop as Røed came round the table. ‘I just wanted to inform you.’

‘Do what you like. But don’t make me regret hiring you, Harry.’

‘Think of it as going to the dentist,’ Harry said, getting to his feet. ‘You don’t regret it after you’ve been there.’ He walked to the wardrobe and held up Røed’s jacket while he slipped into it.

‘That,’ Truls grunted after they had closed the door behind their employer, ‘depends on what you think when you see the bill.’