rotating slowly all the while.
Hanne burst out laughing.
“Don’t you like it?” Mary yelled. “I’ve been busy since midnight!”
Nefis was up now. She looked all around her, entranced.
“Brilliant,” she whispered in the midst of the melee. “So wonderfully Norwegian!”
“No,” Hanne hiccupped. “It’s … It’s—”
Suddenly everything went silent. Mary had pressed some sort of master switch and stood staring in accusation at Hanne.
“What did you say it was?”
“It’s—”
Hanne threw out her arms and beamed with pleasure.
“Damn it, they’re the most fantastic Christmas decorations I’ve ever seen! Mary, you’re a marvel! I’ve really never seen anything like it.”
“Do you mean that? Nefis gave me permission to order whatever I wanted. Got everything delivered to the door, you know. I’ve worked my bloody socks off!”
“I can see that,” Hanne said, more serious now. “Thanks a million.”
“Thank you, too,” Mary sniffled. “I’m so happy now, you know.”
Pulling a voluminous handkerchief from her sweater sleeve, she dried her eyes, before handing Hanne a yellow note.
“A guy phoned here this morning – at some ungodly hour – though I refused to wake you. I was actually thinking of not telling you, but now I’m so happy, Hanne. Now you’ve made an old soul happy.”
She limped out into the kitchen. Fortunately she had forgotten to flick the switch on the noisy decorations.
“I promise …” Hanne said, stealing a march on Nefis while quickly reading the note. “It’s my turn to make dinner today, in fact. I’ll be back in plenty of time. Promise.”
She plucked a halo from the floor and used it to crown the head of a baby angel.
“That’s quite sweet, too,” she said, still smiling.
The festive season must have put a damper on even the journalists’ spirit of self-sacrifice. In any case, there was no sign of any of them in the bitter wind scudding along the walls of the apartment buildings in Eckersbergs gate. Only a cat could be seen ambling along the desolate sidewalk, shaking its paw with every step it took and meowing pathetically.
“I’ve often wondered,” Erik Henriksen said, as they opened the sealed front door, “what these hacks say to their children when they come home and get asked what they’ve done at work today. Well, maybe they can say: Today I’ve hounded a guy who’s just lost his whole family. Or: Today I’ve shadowed a crown princess who only wanted to be left in peace while she bought a gift for a friend. Today I’ve definitely made life really unpleasant for quite a number of people. What a damn job!”
“I don’t think they say anything much,” Hanne replied. “When they get home, I mean. Good of you to turn out, by the way.”
“No problem,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “But I don’t really understand what good this visit will do.”
The Stahlberg family’s apartment was far too warm. Hanne still felt she could detect a hint of sweet iron and chemicals: blood and the crime-scene investigators’ paraphernalia. Maybe it was only a figment of her imagination. She crossed the room and opened a window anyway. The heavy plush curtains stirred slightly in the draft.
“They still think that Sidensvans’s body was moved, don’t they?”
She hunkered down and studied the taped outline of the publishing representative’s cadaver.
“Yes. They think he fell at the threshold.”
“Then he must have been standing outside the door, on the stairway. When he was shot, I mean. Is it true he was shot in the back?”
Erik dipped into the slim folder he had tucked under his arm, to produce a drawing of a man’s body, stylized and flat, viewed from both front and back, with wounds plotted as red dots on the white paper.
“Yep. Two shots in the back. One on the side of his head.”
“Then in point of fact he needn’t have spoken a single word to his hosts before he died, isn’t that so?”
“No … I
Hanne burst out laughing.
“Don’t you like it?” Mary yelled. “I’ve been busy since midnight!”
Nefis was up now. She looked all around her, entranced.
“Brilliant,” she whispered in the midst of the melee. “So wonderfully Norwegian!”
“No,” Hanne hiccupped. “It’s … It’s—”
Suddenly everything went silent. Mary had pressed some sort of master switch and stood staring in accusation at Hanne.
“What did you say it was?”
“It’s—”
Hanne threw out her arms and beamed with pleasure.
“Damn it, they’re the most fantastic Christmas decorations I’ve ever seen! Mary, you’re a marvel! I’ve really never seen anything like it.”
“Do you mean that? Nefis gave me permission to order whatever I wanted. Got everything delivered to the door, you know. I’ve worked my bloody socks off!”
“I can see that,” Hanne said, more serious now. “Thanks a million.”
“Thank you, too,” Mary sniffled. “I’m so happy now, you know.”
Pulling a voluminous handkerchief from her sweater sleeve, she dried her eyes, before handing Hanne a yellow note.
“A guy phoned here this morning – at some ungodly hour – though I refused to wake you. I was actually thinking of not telling you, but now I’m so happy, Hanne. Now you’ve made an old soul happy.”
She limped out into the kitchen. Fortunately she had forgotten to flick the switch on the noisy decorations.
“I promise …” Hanne said, stealing a march on Nefis while quickly reading the note. “It’s my turn to make dinner today, in fact. I’ll be back in plenty of time. Promise.”
She plucked a halo from the floor and used it to crown the head of a baby angel.
“That’s quite sweet, too,” she said, still smiling.
The festive season must have put a damper on even the journalists’ spirit of self-sacrifice. In any case, there was no sign of any of them in the bitter wind scudding along the walls of the apartment buildings in Eckersbergs gate. Only a cat could be seen ambling along the desolate sidewalk, shaking its paw with every step it took and meowing pathetically.
“I’ve often wondered,” Erik Henriksen said, as they opened the sealed front door, “what these hacks say to their children when they come home and get asked what they’ve done at work today. Well, maybe they can say: Today I’ve hounded a guy who’s just lost his whole family. Or: Today I’ve shadowed a crown princess who only wanted to be left in peace while she bought a gift for a friend. Today I’ve definitely made life really unpleasant for quite a number of people. What a damn job!”
“I don’t think they say anything much,” Hanne replied. “When they get home, I mean. Good of you to turn out, by the way.”
“No problem,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “But I don’t really understand what good this visit will do.”
The Stahlberg family’s apartment was far too warm. Hanne still felt she could detect a hint of sweet iron and chemicals: blood and the crime-scene investigators’ paraphernalia. Maybe it was only a figment of her imagination. She crossed the room and opened a window anyway. The heavy plush curtains stirred slightly in the draft.
“They still think that Sidensvans’s body was moved, don’t they?”
She hunkered down and studied the taped outline of the publishing representative’s cadaver.
“Yes. They think he fell at the threshold.”
“Then he must have been standing outside the door, on the stairway. When he was shot, I mean. Is it true he was shot in the back?”
Erik dipped into the slim folder he had tucked under his arm, to produce a drawing of a man’s body, stylized and flat, viewed from both front and back, with wounds plotted as red dots on the white paper.
“Yep. Two shots in the back. One on the side of his head.”
“Then in point of fact he needn’t have spoken a single word to his hosts before he died, isn’t that so?”
“No … I
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