identified?’
Solheim showed him a sheet he had in his hand. ‘Got this from Forensics a moment ago. Definitive answer. Apart from the wife’s and what we reckon are Mobekk’s own prints there was nothing that could be identified. Nothing matched what we have on file anyway.’
‘And we would have Karl Gunnar Monsen’s prints in the archives, would we?’
Solheim gave a look of surprise. ‘And who is that?’
‘The Gimle case. May have been before you came to the department.’
‘If he was charged and sentenced we have got him in the archives, no question.’
Helleve turned back to me. ‘What makes you connect Karl Gunnar Monsen with the Mobekk murder?’
‘Nothing apart from what I’ve already told you. Mobekk was on the committee taking care of the Monsen kids. But … as far as I could see they were searching for something indoors where we found him. Were there any signs of a break-in?’
Helleve glanced at Solheim, extended a hand towards me and said: ‘Meet our new departmental boss, Bjarne. The man with a thousand questions.’
I raised a dry smile. ‘I saw what I saw. Someone had been searching for something. If so, what were they searching for, and how did they get in?’
‘They?’
‘Yes, they or he, what do I know?’
Helleve sighed. ‘There were no signs of a break-in. Mobekk must have let whoever it was in.’
‘Someone he knew perhaps? Someone who was connected with his work. In that branch there are quite a lot of …’
‘Thank you, Varg, that’ll do. We drew the line some time ago. Didn’t you catch that? From now on this is not your case; it’s ours.’
‘Now, now, Atle. Let’s take a rather broader view, shall we. I’ve been given an assignment, and I intend to complete it. If by some chance there should be a suspicious death where I’m conducting my investigation it won’t stop me. I’ll keep as far away as I possibly can from your activities, but I’m going to continue my search for Margrethe Monsen.’
‘Alright, alright,’ Helleve sighed. ‘We live in a free country. You can go. But don’t forget where we are if you dig something up.’
‘How could I forget?’
‘And don’t slam the door as you leave!’
I saluted and left. As I passed Hamre’s open door he shouted to me. ‘Veum!’
‘Yep?’
‘I heard you’d found another body for us?’
‘Nope. The body’s wife found it. I just happened to be in the vicinity.’
He eyed me with his by now almost ingrown sardonic expression. ‘Veum … Be a good boy. Behave nicely. Don’t cause us any trouble.’
‘Trouble? Me? The best-behaved boy in Dormitory 1?’
‘Who was sent home after a week, with instructions never to show his face there again? But did he listen?’
‘Probably not.’
‘No.’ He got up from his desk and came over to me. Patted me on the shoulder in an amicable way. ‘Go home and play on your own, Veum. Make a telephone call or two. But don’t trample over our flower beds. Not again.’
‘I’ll do my best, Hamre.’
‘Your best has never been good enough to date.’
‘And yours has?’
We stood looking at each other for a few seconds. Then we shrugged and went our separate ways. We would meet again. I wasn’t in any doubt about that.’
15
I TOSSED THE STACK OF POST from the letter box onto the desk. Most of the envelopes had windows, but the view through them was wretched. Several of them contained payment reminders, and some threatened legal action. I placed them in a pile and made a mental note to phone some of my regular contractors, like Nils Åkre.
I went to the window and peered out, but the view from there was not much better. The good weather we had been promised had not materialised. Storms of sleet swept in over the town like biblical swarms of locusts, and we were not far from having darkness in the middle of the day. January is an unreliable month with at least two faces, like the god it is named after. Today it was the one in the surly mood.
Solheim showed him a sheet he had in his hand. ‘Got this from Forensics a moment ago. Definitive answer. Apart from the wife’s and what we reckon are Mobekk’s own prints there was nothing that could be identified. Nothing matched what we have on file anyway.’
‘And we would have Karl Gunnar Monsen’s prints in the archives, would we?’
Solheim gave a look of surprise. ‘And who is that?’
‘The Gimle case. May have been before you came to the department.’
‘If he was charged and sentenced we have got him in the archives, no question.’
Helleve turned back to me. ‘What makes you connect Karl Gunnar Monsen with the Mobekk murder?’
‘Nothing apart from what I’ve already told you. Mobekk was on the committee taking care of the Monsen kids. But … as far as I could see they were searching for something indoors where we found him. Were there any signs of a break-in?’
Helleve glanced at Solheim, extended a hand towards me and said: ‘Meet our new departmental boss, Bjarne. The man with a thousand questions.’
I raised a dry smile. ‘I saw what I saw. Someone had been searching for something. If so, what were they searching for, and how did they get in?’
‘They?’
‘Yes, they or he, what do I know?’
Helleve sighed. ‘There were no signs of a break-in. Mobekk must have let whoever it was in.’
‘Someone he knew perhaps? Someone who was connected with his work. In that branch there are quite a lot of …’
‘Thank you, Varg, that’ll do. We drew the line some time ago. Didn’t you catch that? From now on this is not your case; it’s ours.’
‘Now, now, Atle. Let’s take a rather broader view, shall we. I’ve been given an assignment, and I intend to complete it. If by some chance there should be a suspicious death where I’m conducting my investigation it won’t stop me. I’ll keep as far away as I possibly can from your activities, but I’m going to continue my search for Margrethe Monsen.’
‘Alright, alright,’ Helleve sighed. ‘We live in a free country. You can go. But don’t forget where we are if you dig something up.’
‘How could I forget?’
‘And don’t slam the door as you leave!’
I saluted and left. As I passed Hamre’s open door he shouted to me. ‘Veum!’
‘Yep?’
‘I heard you’d found another body for us?’
‘Nope. The body’s wife found it. I just happened to be in the vicinity.’
He eyed me with his by now almost ingrown sardonic expression. ‘Veum … Be a good boy. Behave nicely. Don’t cause us any trouble.’
‘Trouble? Me? The best-behaved boy in Dormitory 1?’
‘Who was sent home after a week, with instructions never to show his face there again? But did he listen?’
‘Probably not.’
‘No.’ He got up from his desk and came over to me. Patted me on the shoulder in an amicable way. ‘Go home and play on your own, Veum. Make a telephone call or two. But don’t trample over our flower beds. Not again.’
‘I’ll do my best, Hamre.’
‘Your best has never been good enough to date.’
‘And yours has?’
We stood looking at each other for a few seconds. Then we shrugged and went our separate ways. We would meet again. I wasn’t in any doubt about that.’
15
I TOSSED THE STACK OF POST from the letter box onto the desk. Most of the envelopes had windows, but the view through them was wretched. Several of them contained payment reminders, and some threatened legal action. I placed them in a pile and made a mental note to phone some of my regular contractors, like Nils Åkre.
I went to the window and peered out, but the view from there was not much better. The good weather we had been promised had not materialised. Storms of sleet swept in over the town like biblical swarms of locusts, and we were not far from having darkness in the middle of the day. January is an unreliable month with at least two faces, like the god it is named after. Today it was the one in the surly mood.
Similar Books
