knows
me." He chuckled. "I invented the PetaGrid. So long,
Sanchez."
The PetaGrid was still a mystery to me, but I was glad
Burroughs was on my side.
When I got back to Sabine's flat, I went through her
correspondence from Trevor. A lot of it was work related, but
there were a few messages that were personal. None were
threats similar to those I'd found on Sabine's computer, but
one referred to Trevor's home near Monaco. The note invited
Sabine to visit.
I called Oddsson and asked to meet. He said anytime at
my convenience. For me that meant immediately. A lawyer was
with him when I arrived. I gave them the messages. After they
looked through them, the lawyer spoke first.
"I'd like to ask you for an affidavit regarding your
investigation. Mr. Oddsson is still a suspect. The case against
him is weak, but problematic. Mr. Oddsson can easily prove he
was away when Ms. Duveau died. However, there was
speculation that he might have hired someone.
"The evidence you've gathered, I believe, will shift the
focus of the investigation toward Trevor Jones, a spurned
suitor. We turned over Ms. Duveau's computer to the police
and they have determined that the notes were sent from Jones'
computer."
I personally could understand why a man might try to
woo Sabine away from Oddsson, but I had difficulty seeing
Trevor as a murderer. Still, the matter of extreme jealously,
could not be ignored. "I'll give you an affidavit."
"Good," the lawyer said. "Alexandra Roussel has also
agreed. I'm glad that we will be avoiding the necessity for
subpoenas." The lawyer's lips wriggled into a
take-the-apple-Eve smile.
Oddsson clapped his hands. "Let's have a drink." He
pushed the cork out of a champagne bottle and poured three
flutes. Raising his, he thanked me graciously.
"That's all? Just like that?" I wanted to make sure.
Oddsson blinked.
The lawyer answered. "Mr. Oddsson can get back to his
life. I would call that a successful conclusion."
"That's good, but what about identifying the
murderer?"
"I think that's been done," the lawyer said.
"Unfortunately, the weight of the killer's guilt, his suicide, has
deprived the courts of judicial satisfaction."
"Geir, what do you say?"
He blinked twice. "You've seen the notes, Mick. He
threatened her."
Toward the end, the notes were scary. I had to admit
that. "Still, there might be more to it. I've uncovered some
things that bother me."
Oddsson stopped blinking. His eyes had the same
quizzical glint they had when I first saw him. "What sort of
things?"
Some he already knew, but I started from the top
anyway. I told him about the Chinese paper on bitumen and the
mystery bacteria that eats sulfur. About Trevor's foreign
exchange trade and about Mumby. I didn't mention Bizet or
Burroughs, but the loose ends were evident.
The lawyer asked coldly if I was angling for an
extension on my fees. If I pushed he would—
Oddsson waved him to silence.
"Avenging angel," I said. "Remember?"
"What do you want?"
"According to Trevor's projections, the dollar crashes
hard in ten days. That's how long I want. Some things are
already in motion. I can't say what exactly. It would betray
confidences."
"In motion?" Oddsson's eyes were afire with
anticipation. "And you think these things might have
something to do with Sabine's death?"
"Possibly, but right now I have no idea what it might
be."
"Is there a game afoot that I should know more about?"
Oddsson's smile was almost predatory.
I nodded, glad that he was a quick study.
"In that case, you'd better have your ten days, hadn't
you." He flashed a glance at the lawyer.
Good-bye, gentlemen .
* * * *
I was going over copies of the correspondence from
Trevor again, when Alexandra called. I hoped she was making
good on her promise to invite me to dinner. Not the case.
"I think someone broke into my apartment."
"Have you called the police?"
"No, I can't find anything missing. I don't know what I
would tell them. My door was unlocked when I got home. I
don't
me." He chuckled. "I invented the PetaGrid. So long,
Sanchez."
The PetaGrid was still a mystery to me, but I was glad
Burroughs was on my side.
When I got back to Sabine's flat, I went through her
correspondence from Trevor. A lot of it was work related, but
there were a few messages that were personal. None were
threats similar to those I'd found on Sabine's computer, but
one referred to Trevor's home near Monaco. The note invited
Sabine to visit.
I called Oddsson and asked to meet. He said anytime at
my convenience. For me that meant immediately. A lawyer was
with him when I arrived. I gave them the messages. After they
looked through them, the lawyer spoke first.
"I'd like to ask you for an affidavit regarding your
investigation. Mr. Oddsson is still a suspect. The case against
him is weak, but problematic. Mr. Oddsson can easily prove he
was away when Ms. Duveau died. However, there was
speculation that he might have hired someone.
"The evidence you've gathered, I believe, will shift the
focus of the investigation toward Trevor Jones, a spurned
suitor. We turned over Ms. Duveau's computer to the police
and they have determined that the notes were sent from Jones'
computer."
I personally could understand why a man might try to
woo Sabine away from Oddsson, but I had difficulty seeing
Trevor as a murderer. Still, the matter of extreme jealously,
could not be ignored. "I'll give you an affidavit."
"Good," the lawyer said. "Alexandra Roussel has also
agreed. I'm glad that we will be avoiding the necessity for
subpoenas." The lawyer's lips wriggled into a
take-the-apple-Eve smile.
Oddsson clapped his hands. "Let's have a drink." He
pushed the cork out of a champagne bottle and poured three
flutes. Raising his, he thanked me graciously.
"That's all? Just like that?" I wanted to make sure.
Oddsson blinked.
The lawyer answered. "Mr. Oddsson can get back to his
life. I would call that a successful conclusion."
"That's good, but what about identifying the
murderer?"
"I think that's been done," the lawyer said.
"Unfortunately, the weight of the killer's guilt, his suicide, has
deprived the courts of judicial satisfaction."
"Geir, what do you say?"
He blinked twice. "You've seen the notes, Mick. He
threatened her."
Toward the end, the notes were scary. I had to admit
that. "Still, there might be more to it. I've uncovered some
things that bother me."
Oddsson stopped blinking. His eyes had the same
quizzical glint they had when I first saw him. "What sort of
things?"
Some he already knew, but I started from the top
anyway. I told him about the Chinese paper on bitumen and the
mystery bacteria that eats sulfur. About Trevor's foreign
exchange trade and about Mumby. I didn't mention Bizet or
Burroughs, but the loose ends were evident.
The lawyer asked coldly if I was angling for an
extension on my fees. If I pushed he would—
Oddsson waved him to silence.
"Avenging angel," I said. "Remember?"
"What do you want?"
"According to Trevor's projections, the dollar crashes
hard in ten days. That's how long I want. Some things are
already in motion. I can't say what exactly. It would betray
confidences."
"In motion?" Oddsson's eyes were afire with
anticipation. "And you think these things might have
something to do with Sabine's death?"
"Possibly, but right now I have no idea what it might
be."
"Is there a game afoot that I should know more about?"
Oddsson's smile was almost predatory.
I nodded, glad that he was a quick study.
"In that case, you'd better have your ten days, hadn't
you." He flashed a glance at the lawyer.
Good-bye, gentlemen .
* * * *
I was going over copies of the correspondence from
Trevor again, when Alexandra called. I hoped she was making
good on her promise to invite me to dinner. Not the case.
"I think someone broke into my apartment."
"Have you called the police?"
"No, I can't find anything missing. I don't know what I
would tell them. My door was unlocked when I got home. I
don't
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