Killing Moon

42 Friday

Terry Våge blinked. He had slept poorly. And was in a bad mood. Anyway, no one liked press conferences that started at nine in the morning. Or perhaps he was mistaken, the other journalists in the Parole Hall looked annoyingly perky. Even Mona Daa — the seats next to her already occupied when he arrived — appeared wide awake and animated. He had tried to make eye contact but to no avail. None of the other journalists had paid any attention to him when he entered either. Not that he was expecting a standing ovation, but you would think that going into the woods in the middle of the night and running the risk of encountering a serial killer might garner you a modicum of respect. Especially when you came back alive with pictures that had been sold to media outlets and appeared all around the world. Happiness is short-lived, as they say. A real win would have meant his getting that exclusive interview, but that scoop had been snatched away at the last minute. So yes, he had more reason than the rest to be on bad form today. Moreover, Dagnija had called last night to say she couldn’t come at the weekend after all. When she told him she couldn’t make it — although he wasn’t convinced that she couldn’t — he had naturally grown keener and attempted to persuade her, which had ended in an argument.

‘Kevin Selmer,’ Katrine Bratt said from the podium. ‘We’ve chosen to go public with the name because the suspect is deceased, because of the seriousness of the crime, and in order to spare others who have been under police scrutiny from public suspicion.’

Terry Våge watched the other journalists take notes. Kevin Selmer. He searched his brain. He had the list of car owners on the PC at home but couldn’t remember anyone with that name offhand. But his memory wasn’t what it once was, not like when he was able to reel off the name of every notable band, their members, records and release dates from 1960 to... well, 2000?

‘I’ll now hand over to Helge Forfang from the Forensic Medical Institute,’ Head of Information Kedzierski said.

Terry Våge was slightly puzzled. Wasn’t it uncommon for forensic scientists to be present at press conferences? Didn’t they usually just have their reports quoted? And he was puzzled by what Forfang presented. That at least one of the victims had been infected with a mutated or manipulated parasite and the evidence suggested the killer had been responsible. And that the killer had also been infected.

‘The post-mortem carried out on Kevin Selmer last night revealed a high concentration of the Toxoplasma gondii parasite. High enough for us to say with a large degree of certainty that the parasite was the cause of death, not the self-inflicted injuries to the head and face. Although speculative, it might appear as if Kevin Selmer acted as a primary host for the parasite and was able for a time to control the population, perhaps by use of antiparasitic agents, but, again, we don’t know that for sure.’

Terry Våge stood up and left when they opened for questions from the floor. He had found out what he needed to know. He was no longer puzzled. He just needed to get home and confirm it.

Sung-min walked through the canteen and out onto the terrace. He had always envied the employees of Police HQ this view from the top of the glass palace. At least on a day like this, when Oslo lay bathed in sunshine and the temperature had spiked unexpectedly. He made his way over to Katrine and Harry, both standing by the railing, each smoking a cigarette.

‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ Sung-min said, smiling at Katrine.

‘I don’t really,’ she said, smiling back. ‘I just bummed one off Harry to celebrate.’

‘You’re a bad influence, Harry.’

‘Yep,’ Harry said, holding out a pack of Camel.

Sung-min hesitated. ‘Why not?’ he said, taking a cigarette that Harry lit up for him.

‘How are you going to celebrate?’ Katrine asked.

‘Let me see,’ Sung-min said. ‘I have a dinner date. What about you?’

‘Me too. Arne told me to meet him up at Frognerseteren Restaurant. It’s going to be a surprise.’

‘A restaurant on the edge of the forest with a view from the mountain. Sounds romantic.’

‘Sure,’ Katrine said, looking with momentary fascination at the smoke she was blowing out through her nose. ‘I’m just not that big into surprises. You going to mark the occasion, Harry?’

‘I was. Alexandra invited me up onto the roof of the Forensic Medical Institute. She and Helge are going to share a bottle of wine and watch the lunar eclipse.’

‘Ah, the blood moon,’ Sung-min said. ‘And it looks like it’s going to be a nice night.’

‘But?’ Katrine said.

‘We’ll see,’ Harry said. ‘Been some bad news. Ståle’s wife called. He’s taken a turn and wants me to come visit. I’ll probably stay as long as he has the energy.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah.’ Harry took a long drag of his cigarette.

They stood in silence for a while.

‘You see the tribute we received today, from the Minister of Justice no less?’

Katrine sounded sarcastic.

The other two nodded.

‘Just one thing before I go,’ Harry said. ‘Røed told me last night that he wasn’t with Susanne the day she was killed. And I believe him.’

‘Me too,’ said Sung-min, who, with the cigarette in his hand, angled his wrist in a way he otherwise managed to avoid.

‘Why?’ Katrine asked.

‘Because it’s obvious he prefers men to women,’ Sung-min said. ‘I reckon his sex life with Helene was a compulsory exercise.’

‘Mm. So we’re inclined to believe him. Then how did Røed’s saliva wind up on Susanne’s breast?’

‘Indeed,’ Katrine said. ‘I was slightly confused myself when Røed came up with that story about sex earlier in the day, that the spit was from then.’

‘Oh?’

‘What do you think I’ll do before I meet Arne tonight? And this goes for all my dates, no matter what, even the ones where sex isn’t on the cards.’

‘You’ll take a shower,’ Sung-min said.

‘Correct. I thought it strange that Susanne wouldn’t shower before she took the metro to Skullerud. Especially if she’d had sex.’

‘So, I repeat the question,’ Harry said. ‘Where did the saliva come from?’

‘Eh... after she was killed?’ Sung-min said.

‘Theoretically possible,’ Harry said, ‘but highly unlikely. Think about how meticulously planned these three murders have been. I think the killer planted Røed’s saliva on Susanne with the intention of misleading the police.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sung-min said.

‘I could buy that,’ Katrine said.

‘Of course we’ll never get an answer,’ Harry said.

‘No, we never get all the answers,’ Katrine said.

They stood for a while, closed their eyes to the sun as if they already knew that this would be the last warm day of the year.

It was just before closing time when Jonathan asked. He was standing by the rabbit hutches, and the question, whether Thanh had any plans for the evening, was meant to come across as casual.

If Thanh had suspected anything, naturally she would have answered yes. But she hadn’t, so she replied truthfully, that she did not.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then I’d like you to accompany me someplace.’

‘Someplace?’

‘Someplace where I’m going to show you something. But it’s secret so you mustn’t tell a soul. OK?’

‘Eh...’

‘I’ll pick you up at home.’

Thanh felt panic mount. She didn’t want to go anywhere. And certainly not with Jonathan. True, he no longer seemed angry she had taken a walk with the policeman and his dog. Yesterday he had even brought her a large coffee, something he had never done before. But she was still a little afraid of him. He was so difficult to read, and she considered herself pretty good at reading people.

But now she had painted herself into a corner. She could of course say that she had another appointment that had slipped her mind, but he wouldn’t believe her, she was also a terrible liar. And he was her boss after all, and she needed this job. Not at all costs, of course, but at a certain cost. She swallowed.

‘What is it you want to show me?’

‘Something you’ll like,’ he said. Did he sound grumpy because she didn’t say yes straight away?

‘What?’

‘It’s a surprise. Nine o’clock all right?’

She needed to decide. She looked at him. Looked at the odd, closed-off man whom she feared. Tried to make eye contact as though that might give an answer. And then she caught a glimpse of something she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t big, just an attempt at a smile that seemed to slip, as it were, as though behind the hard exterior he was nervous. Was he afraid she would say no? Perhaps that was the reason she suddenly felt she wasn’t so scared of him after all.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Nine o’clock.’

And then it was as though he regained self-control. But he smiled. Yes, he smiled, she didn’t know if she had seen him smile like that before. It was a nice smile.

But on the metro on the way home she began having doubts again. She wasn’t too sure it had been wise to say yes. And then there was one thing she had thought was a little strange, although perhaps it wasn’t. He’d said he would pick her up but had not asked where she lived, and she couldn’t remember ever having told him.