Killing Moon

30 Sunday

The morning sun had yet to dry the rain-drenched streets when Thanh arrived at Mons.

She didn’t have the keys to the pet shop with her. It was Sunday, and this was just the meeting point for the handover of dogs she walked. The client was new; he had rung the day before. It was unusual for people to avail themselves of her dog-minding service on the weekends, generally that was when they had time to look after their pets themselves. Thanh was looking forward to taking a walk and had worn training gear in case the dog wanted to run a little. She and her mother had spent yesterday making food. Her father had come home from the hospital, and although the doctor had given him strict instructions not to eat too much and steer clear of spicy food, he had — to the delight of her mother — dug enthusiastically into all the dishes she served up.

Thanh saw a man with a dog approaching across the gravel-covered park of Vestkanttorget. The dog was a Labrador, and judging by its gait, suffered from hip dysplasia. As they drew closer, she saw it was the policeman who had been in the shop two days previously. Her first thought — perhaps because he was dressed in a suit — was that he was going to a Sunday service or a confirmation, and that was why he needed a dog minder. But he had also been wearing a suit the first time she met him; maybe it was his work outfit. In which case, she was glad she hadn’t brought the keys, in the event his plan had been to convince her to let him in.

‘Hi,’ he said, smiling. ‘My name is Sung-min.’

‘Thanh,’ she said, and patted the dog, which was wagging its tail.

‘Thanh. And his name is Kasparov. How do I pay?’

‘Vipps. If you have the app. I can get a receipt if you want.’

‘You mean you won’t work off the books for a policeman?’ He laughed. ‘Sorry, bad joke,’ he said, when she didn’t laugh along. ‘Do you mind if I walk with you some of the way?’

‘By all means,’ she said, and took the lead, noting that Kasparov’s collar was a William Walker. It was an expensive brand, but soft and gentle on a dog’s neck. She wanted to stock them in the shop, but Jonathan had refused.

‘I usually walk in Frogner Park,’ she said.

‘Fine.’

They walked south and turned into Fuglehauggata in the direction of the park.

‘I see you’re wearing training gear, but I’m afraid Kasparov’s running days are behind him.’

‘I’ve noticed. Have you considered an operation?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Several times. But the vet has advised against it. But I think he’s on the right track, with proper food and — the periods it’s bad — painkillers and anti-inflammatories.’

‘Sounds like you care about your dog.’

‘Oh yes. Have you a dog yourself?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m more into hook-ups. Like with Kasparov here.’

Now they both laughed.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t hit it off so well with your boss the other day,’ he said. ‘Is he always so morose?’

‘I don’t know,’ Thanh said. The policeman was quiet, and she was aware that he was waiting for her to elaborate. She didn’t need to, of course, but such silent pauses might serve to underscore an unwillingness to say more, as though there was something fishy going on.

‘I don’t know him that well,’ she said, although hearing that now it sounded like she wanted to distance herself from Jonathan, which might put him in an unfavourable light, and that certainly wasn’t her intention.

‘That’s odd,’ the policeman said. ‘You not knowing one another when the two of you are the only people in the shop.’

‘Yeah,’ she said. They stopped for a red light at the pedestrian crossing over Kirkeveien. ‘It may be a little odd. But what you’re wondering is if I know whether he’s smuggled something into the country. And I don’t.’

In her peripheral vision she could see him looking at her, and when the light changed to green, she walked so quickly that he was left standing on the pavement behind her.

Sung-min hurried after the girl from the pet shop.

He was annoyed. Clearly, this wasn’t leading anywhere, she had her guard up and wasn’t going to talk. It was a waste of a day off, and his mood was not improved by the fact he and Chris had argued yesterday.

A flower seller was standing by the monumental main gate to Frogner Park, proffering his sad specimens to the tourists.

‘A rose for the beautiful beloved.’

The seller had taken a step forward so that he was blocking one of the smaller side gates which Sung-min and Thanh had headed towards.

‘No thank you,’ Sung-min said.

The seller repeated his sales pitch in broken Norwegian, as though Sung-min must have misheard him.

‘No,’ Sung-min said, and followed Thanh and Kasparov, who had skirted round the man and walked through the gate.

But the seller came after him.

‘A rose for the beautiful—’

‘No!’

The man obviously thought that Sung-min, judging by his attire, could afford it, and that Sung-min and Thanh were a couple since they both looked Asian. Not an unreasonable assumption, of course, and neither was it one that would have bothered Sung-min on another day. He rarely, if ever, allowed himself to be provoked by preconceptions, they were just a part of how people dealt with a complicated world. In fact, Sung-min was more often provoked by people who were so self-centred that they took offence every time they believed themselves the victim of even the most innocuous preconception. ‘A rose for—’

‘I’m gay.’

The seller stopped and stared blankly at Sung-min for a moment. Then he moistened his lips and held out one of the plastic-wrapped, pallid flowers.

‘A rose for the beau—’

‘I’m gay!’ Sung-min roared. ‘Do you understand? Gay as gay can be!’

The flower seller backed away and Sung-min saw that people going in and out of the gates had turned to look at them. Thanh had come to a halt, a startled expression on her face, and Kasparov gave a brief bark and pulled at the lead to come to his owner’s rescue.

‘I’m sorry.’ Sung-min sighed. ‘Here.’ He took the flower and handed the seller a hundred-krone note.

‘I don’t have any...’ the man began.

‘It’s fine.’ Sung-min walked over to Thanh and held out the rose to her.

At first she just looked at him in surprise. Then she began to laugh.

Sung-min hesitated a moment before seeing the funny side of the situation then laughed as well.

‘My dad says it’s largely a European tradition, giving flowers to your sweetheart,’ Thanh said. ‘The Greeks in antiquity, the French and English in the Middle Ages.’

‘Yes, but the rose is originally from the same continent as us,’ Sung-min said. ‘The place where I was born in South Korea, Samcheok, has a very well-known rose festival. And mugunghwa, the rose of Sharon, is the national symbol of Korea.’

‘Yes, but is mugunghwa strictly speaking a rose?’

Before they reached the Monolith, the conversation had moved on from flowers to pets.

‘I don’t know if Jonathan really likes animals that much,’ she said when they were standing at the top of the park looking down towards Skøyen. ‘I think he just ended up in this business. It could just as easily have been, like, a grocery or electronics store.’

‘But you don’t know anything about him continuing to stock Hillman Pets after the import ban?’

‘What makes you so sure he has?’

‘He was very stressed when I called round to the shop.’

‘Maybe he was scared of...’

‘Yes?’

‘No, nothing.’

Sung-min took a deep breath. ‘I’m not a customs officer. I’m not going to charge him with illegal importation. What I’m working on is following a lead, which in a roundabout way could maybe help us to apprehend the man who killed those two girls who disappeared. And prevent any more from dying.’

Thanh nodded. Looked like she hesitated slightly before making up her mind. ‘The only illegal thing I’ve seen Jonathan do was when he agreed to take a fox cub someone had taken with them from London — apparently foxes live in the city there. It’s an offence to bring foxes into the country, of course, and I think that when they found out they got scared. They couldn’t face going to the vet to have it put down and they weren’t able to do it themselves, so they gave the cub to Jonathan instead. Had to reimburse him generously to take the problem off their hands, no doubt.’

‘People do things like that?’

‘You don’t know the half of it. Twice I’ve had owners not bothering to pick up their dogs and vanish into thin air.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘Took them home. But we don’t have much space, so eventually I had to take them to the animal shelter. It’s so sad.’

‘What happened to the fox cub?’

‘I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to. I loved that cub.’ Sung-min could see her eyes becoming moist. ‘Suddenly one day it was gone. He probably flushed it down the toilet...’

‘The toilet?’

‘No, of course not. But like I said, I don’t want to know how he got rid of Nhi.’ They continued walking while Thanh told him of her plans, about her dream of becoming a vet. Sung-min listened. It was hard not to like this girl. Besides she was bright, and there was no longer any reason to pretend he had got in touch to have his dog looked after, so he accompanied her the entire way. His questioning had proved fruitless, but he consoled himself with the fact that he had at least got to spend time with someone who appreciated a four-legged friend as much as he did.

‘Oh,’ Thanh said as they approached Mons again. ‘There’s Jonathan.’

The door of the shop was open, and a Volvo estate was parked outside. A man was leaning in the open door on the passenger side. He probably couldn’t hear them due to the sound of the vacuum cleaner. By his feet was a bucket of water, suds spilling over the brim, and the car was wet and glistening. Water still trickled from the hose lying on the tarmac.

Sung-min took Kasparov’s lead and wondered whether he should slip away unnoticed and leave it up to Thanh to decide if she wanted to tell him about their meeting. But before he had a chance to make up his mind, the shop owner straightened up and turned in their direction.

Sung-min saw the man’s eyes blaze as he took in and undoubtedly interpreted the situation correctly.

‘Isn’t it unchristian to wash your car during church-service hours,’ Sung-min said before the others had a chance to say anything.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

‘We’ve just been for a walk in the park,’ Thanh added quickly. ‘Dog minding.’

Sung-min wished she hadn’t sounded so anxious. As though they were the ones who had cause to be on the defensive and not him.

Without a word, the man carried the vacuum cleaner and hose into the shop. Reappeared, picked up the bucket and emptied the contents out onto the pavement. Soapsuds and dirty water pooled around Sung-min’s handmade shoes.

Sung-min didn’t notice, just concentrated on the man marching into the shop with the empty bucket. The anger he saw, was that merely down to a policeman being a nuisance? Or was it because the man was scared? Sung-min didn’t know exactly what nerve he had hit, but he had hit something, of that he was in no doubt. The man came back out and locked the door of the shop, then walked towards the car without gracing them with a glance. Sung-min saw the remains of some clods of earth in the water that had run from the tyres to the manhole cover.

‘Been driving in the forest?’ Sung-min asked.

‘Been barking up the wrong tree?’ the shop owner asked, slipping into the driving seat, shutting the door and starting the engine.

Sung-min watched the Volvo as it accelerated down the Sunday calm of Neuberggata.

‘What was it he had in the boot?’

‘A cage,’ Thanh said.

‘A cage,’ Sung-min repeated.

‘Oh,’ Katrine whispered, withdrawing the arm she’d linked through Harry’s.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

She didn’t answer.

‘What’s wong, Mammy?’ asked Gert, who was holding Harry’s hand.

‘I just thought I saw someone,’ Katrine said, squinting up at the higher ground behind the Monolith.

‘Sung-min again?’ Harry said. Katrine had told him that while she and Gert were waiting at the gate, they had seen Sung-min enter the park with a girl.

Katrine hadn’t tried to attract his attention; she wasn’t eager for colleagues to see her in Harry’s company. In that sense, Frogner Park on a sunny Sunday was a risky choice, there were already lots of people inside, some of them were even sitting on the grass, which had to be still damp after last night’s rain.

‘No, I thought it was...’ She paused.

‘Your date?’ Harry asked, while a snowsuit-clad Gert pulled at his sleeve for Uncle Harry to lift him off the ground and swing him around once more.

‘Maybe. You’re thinking about someone, then suddenly you start seeing their face everywhere you go, you know?’

‘You mean you saw him up there?’

‘No, couldn’t have been him, he was going to work today. But I can’t walk arm in arm with you anyway, Harry. If we were to run into any colleagues and they saw the two of us...’

‘I know,’ Harry said, checking the time. Two full days left. He had explained to Katrine that he only had a couple of hours to spare before he needed to get back to the hotel to work. But he knew it was only to give himself the feeling he was doing something, that it was unrealistic to think he would find anything there. That something needed to happen.

‘Not dat way, dis way!’ Gert said, pulling Harry off the path and onto the trail leading between the trees towards the playground and Frogner Castle, a wooden fortress in miniature that children climbed and played in.

‘What did you say it was called again?’ Harry asked innocently.

‘Fwognaw Catal!’

Harry saw Katrine’s warning glare as he tried his best not to laugh. What the hell was happening to him? He had heard that lack of sleep could make people psychotic — was he at that stage?

His phone rang and he checked the display. ‘I have to take this. You two go ahead.’

‘Thanks for a great night,’ he said into the phone when the other two were out of earshot.

‘No, thank you,’ Alexandra said. ‘But that’s not why I’m calling. I’m at work.’

‘On a Sunday?’

‘When you leave the warmth of a girl in her bed in the middle of the night to read reports, then I have to be allowed to do a little work as well.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘I actually came in to catch up on my thesis, but it turns out the DNA analysis from the kitchen roll you asked for is ready, so I thought you’d like the results right away.’

‘Mm.’

‘It has the same DNA profile as the saliva we found around Susanne Andersen’s nipple.’

Harry’s overtired brain took in the information bit by bit as his heart rate increased. He had just been wishing for something to happen and now it had. One could turn religious from less. But it also occurred to him that he shouldn’t be so surprised. The suspicion about whom the saliva on Susanne’s breast came from had after all been strong enough for him to finagle DNA from Markus Røed.

‘Thanks,’ he said, and ended the call.

When he got to the playground, he found Katrine on all fours in the sand in front of the castle. She was making neighing sounds while Gert — who was sitting on her back — was digging his heels into her sides. She explained — still on all fours — that Gert had seen a film about knights and had insisted on arriving at the castle on horseback.

‘The saliva found on Susanne belongs to Markus Røed,’ Harry said.

‘How do you know?’

‘I got hold of Røed’s DNA and sent it to Alexandra.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Mammy...’

‘Mammy will mind her language, yes. But if it’s been obtained in that way, it’s not by the book, and then we can’t use it in court.’

‘It wasn’t done in the police-prescribed manner, no, but this is exactly what we talked about. There’s nothing to prevent you and your people from using information procured by others.’

‘Can you...?’ She nodded back in the direction of her rider. Harry lifted Gert off the horse despite his protests, and she got to her feet.

‘Røed’s wife still gives him an alibi; all the same this might be enough to arrest him,’ she said, brushing sand off the knees of her trousers and watching Gert, who had run over to the slide coming down from one of the towers.

‘Mm. I think Helene Røed might waver slightly where that alibi is concerned.’

‘Oh?’

‘I talked to her. The alibi is her bargaining chip in an upcoming divorce settlement.’

Katrine frowned and took out her own ringing phone. Looked at the display.

‘Bratt.’

Her work voice, Harry thought. And going by the change in facial expression he could guess the rest.

‘I’ll be right there,’ she said and cut the connection. Looked up at Harry. ‘A body’s been found. Lilløyplassen.’

Harry thought for a moment. Wasn’t that out on the tip of Snarøya, in the wetlands?

‘OK,’ he said. ‘But what’s the big hurry to get tactical investigators out there? Shouldn’t you be concentrating on having Røed arrested?’

‘It’s the same case. A woman. And she’s been decapitated.’

‘Shit.’

‘Can you play with him in the meantime?’ She nodded towards Gert.

‘You’re going to be busy for the rest of the day,’ Harry said. ‘And tonight. Røed needs to—’

‘These are to the gate and to the apartment.’ She slipped two keys off a set. ‘There’s food in the fridge. And save me the sceptical look, you are the father after all.’

‘Mm. I’m the father when it suits you, apparently.’

‘Right. And now you sound like one of those police wives who are always complaining.’ She handed him the keys. ‘We’ll get Røed afterwards. I’ll keep you posted.’

‘Of course,’ Harry said and clenched his teeth.

He watched Katrine walk over to the slide, say a few words to Gert and hug him, and followed her with his eyes as she jog-trotted out of the park with the phone to her ear. He felt a tug on his hand and looked down into Gert’s upturned face.

‘Hawse.’

Harry smiled and pretended he hadn’t heard.

‘Hawse!’

Harry’s smile widened, and he looked down at his suit trousers and knew he was going to lose.