The Writing on the Wall

Twelve

SIDSEL SKAGESTØL answered the telephone at the first ring as though she’d been sitting there waiting. Her voice was strained and shrill: ‘Hello?’

‘It’s Veum.’

‘Oh.’ The change in her tone was so obvious it was almost palpable. ‘Er… I thought it was Holger.’ Then it quickly altered again. ‘Is there anything new?’

‘No, alas. I haven’t found her, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Yes, I… Holger’s down there now.’

‘With the police?’

‘Yes. He…’ Her voice tailed off.

‘I saw the headline in the paper.’

‘But it’s not certain it’s her!’

‘Course it isn’t. She… The girl has to be identified first, in any case.’

‘Yes.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘Not now.’ Weakly she added: ‘Have you found out anything about her at all? About where she might – be?’

‘No, but I’m working on it.’

‘I think I’m going to have to ring off, Veum, so the phone won’t be engaged when he rings.’

‘If anything at all crops up, don’t be afraid to get in touch with me. If the case has already been – cleared up, then I’ll actually owe you some money. I’ll write out an itemised -’

‘That’s all right, Veum. We’ll keep in touch.’ With no further formalities she hung up.

I carefully replaced the receiver and sat there looking out of the window.

A few sparse snowflakes were falling over the city, like ash from a giant campfire somewhere high above. The layer of cloud above the mountains was ashen grey too, without a hint of a glow even though it was already after sunrise.

I picked up the paper and read the short notice again.

A young, so far unidentified, woman was found in a road-fill roughly midway between Fanaseter and Nordvik, on the eastern slope of Fanafjell Mountain. She was partly undressed, and there were clear signs of violence. However, it was still too early to say whether she had also been the victim of a sexual assault. The cause of death had not been established either. The person leading the investigation, Detective Inspector Dankert Muus, stated that, for the moment, the police were concentrating on establishing the young woman’s identity and also securing the scene of the crime and combing it for evidence.

I got up, went over to the sink, filled a glass of water straight from the tap, drank it, went back to the desk, sat down, cleared away some piles of papers in front of me and counted slowly to ten before lifting the receiver, dialling the number of the police station and asking to speak to Dankert Muus.

He was out.

I hesitated slightly. ‘It’s about the body found up on Fanafjell. Could you put me through to someone else?’

Yes, she could. I was put through to Eva Jensen after about twenty seconds.

‘It’s Veum.’

‘Oh, hello…’

‘It’s about that girl you’ve found. Has she been identified?’

‘Er. No. Muus is down at forensic at the moment, with a man who -’

‘- could be the father. Holger Skagestøl, right?’

‘That’s something I can’t -’

‘OK. The fact is that – I’ve been working on a case. A girl who’s been missing about a week, Torild Skagestøl. So far I’ve found very little trace of her, so when a girl suddenly turns up dead, I’m – worried, if you see what I mean.’

‘We haven’t many details either yet, Veum.’

‘When Muus is back, could you ask him to give me a call?’

‘By all means, Veum.’

After our conversation, I sat there staring vacantly ahead.

It was dead time, literally speaking. On the sheet of paper I wrote out the names I’d noted down in connection with Torild Skagestøl’s disappearing act:

Åsa Furebø (Trond, Randi)

Astrid Nikolaisen (Gerd, Kenneth?)

Helene Sandal, Nattland School

Sigrun Søvik, Guides leader

Jimmy’s: Kalle? (Ronny)

What about the hotel I’d tailed the two girls to from Jimmy’s? Almost without thinking, I added a new name to the list:

Judge Brandt

Then I called Paul Finckel.

His voice was gravelly as though he’d got up early – or already started his weekend.

He beat me to it. ‘Varg? Don’t tell me! You don’t have something to do with this killing as well, do you?’

‘Not necessarily. Know anything about it?’

‘She still hasn’t been identified.’

‘I know. But do you have any – particulars? Anything about her condition?’ I could hear him leafing through some papers. ‘Was it delicate, d’you mean? Not guilty, your honour.’

I waited.

‘A good laugh makes you live longer, Varg. Haven’t you heard that?’

‘Yes, I have. But my days are long enough as they are.’

‘Here, let’s see… She was found yesterday evening. At about ten o’clock. It was a jogger who, er, had to answer a call of nature and scrambled down from the road up there. God knows whether he’ll ever go jogging again.’

‘Joggers don’t give up the ghost that easily.’

‘In any case, he came across something lying there, under some bushes, went to take a closer look and, well, you know the rest.’

‘No more than what’s in the papers.’

‘And there isn’t much more than that to tell either. Her clothes were in a mess, but the police are still unable to say whether she’d been raped or was the victim of some other kind of sexual assault, as the expression goes.’

‘Cause of death?’

‘Nothing so far. Do you know anything else?’

‘Not yet. But I’ve been on the trail of a girl for a couple of days and still not found her…’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Er… But if it’s not her…’

‘A hundred per cent on the QT, Varg.’ His voice took on a harder note. ‘One good turn deserves another. Next time you ring, you might find I’m busy.’

‘Strictly between us, then, Paul. Her name’s Torild Skagestøl.’

I trotted out with her surname quickly and casually, but he immediately seized the connection. ‘A relative of Holger?’

‘His daughter.’

‘Exactly.’ I heard him making a note of it. ‘Anything else?’

‘Not yet. But if I receive confirmation that it is her, I may come back to you with more information.’

‘Can’t we deal with it now?’

‘Have to check it myself first, Paul. To be quite frank, I’ve hardly found out anything.’

‘Starting to feel your age, are you, Varg?’

‘No more than you, I hope. Anyway, thanks a lot.’

‘Same here, old wolf.’

I hung up and shifted a few piles of paper about again. One page floated down to the floor. As I bent down to pick it up, the phone rang.

I grabbed the page, placed it in front of me, lifted the receiver and answered: ‘Hello?’

‘It’s Muus. I heard you’d rung.’

‘Yes, I… Has she been identified?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I think you should get down here, Veum.’

‘When?’

‘I’m already expecting you.’

‘Be there in five minutes.’

As I hung up, my eyes fell on the sheet of paper in front of me.

I jumped. In all the fuss, I’d almost forgotten.

What I was looking at was my own death notice, dated five days hence.