Killing Moon

53 Friday

Fool

Alexandra and Harry looked through the window into the autopsy room where Ståle Aune was lying on a bench and Ingrid Aune was sitting on a chair next to him. The Aunes’ house was only a five-minute drive away, and she had come immediately.

Helge Forfang had been driven away by the police and the Crime Scene Unit would soon arrive. Harry had called the duty desk to report a murder without telling them that the victim wasn’t yet dead.

Suddenly Aune let out a coughing laugh inside and raised his voice enough for the words to be audible through the speakers. ‘Yes, yes, I remember it, darling. But I didn’t think you’d be interested in a chap like me. Can I get it now?’

Alexandra took a step forward and switched off the sound.

They looked in at the two of them. Harry had been in the room when Ingrid arrived. Her husband had explained to her that the parasites in his system would likely take effect very quickly, and that he would prefer to win the race. When Aune had said that Harry had offered to do it, Ingrid had shaken her head firmly. She had pointed at one of the bulging veins on Aune’s neck and looked at Harry, who had nodded, handed her the syringe with morphine he had been given by Alexandra and left the room.

They now saw Ingrid wipe her eyes before lifting the syringe.

Harry and Alexandra walked out to the car park and smoked a cigarette together with Øystein.

Two hours later — after questioning and a meeting with the crisis psychologist at Police HQ — Øystein and Harry drove Alexandra home.

‘Unless you’re intent on bankrupting yourself at the Thief, you can stay with me for a while,’ she said.

‘Thanks,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

It was midnight, and Harry was sitting in the hotel bar. Looking at his whiskey glass while taking stock. Because it was time for some final accounting. To tally up those he had lost and those he had let down. And the faceless people he might — but only might — have saved. But one person was still unaccounted for.

As if in response to the thought, the phone rang.

He looked at the number. It was Ben.

Harry knew with sudden certainty that now he would find out. Perhaps that’s why he hesitated before tapping Accept.

‘Ben?’

‘Hi, Harry. She’s been found.’

‘OK.’ Harry took a deep breath. Then drained the rest of his drink in one go. ‘Where?’

‘Here.’

‘Here?’

‘She’s sitting right in front of me.’

‘You mean... at Creatures?’

‘Yeah. Her and a whiskey sour. They took her phone, that’s why you couldn’t get her. And she came back to Laurel Canyon when she got out of Mexico. Here she is...’

Harry heard noise and laughter. And then Lucille’s voice.

‘Harry?’

‘Lucille,’ was all he was able to say.

‘Don’t go soft on me, Harry. I’ve been thinking about what my first words to you would be. And what I came up with was this.’ He heard her draw breath and then, through a mixture of laughter and tears, her quivering, whiskey-sprinkled vocal cords say, ‘You saved my life, you fool.’