Life and Limb by Elsebeth Egholm

quietly.
    â€˜I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ Wagner said while Ivar K picked at his cuticles and popped something into his mouth. ‘We’re assuming you haven’t done anything wrong.’
    For a while Kamm sat with his eyes closed, as if he could barely tolerate the sight of the detectives. This was probably the truth, Wagner thought. He was loath to admit it, but every now and again Ivar K’s temper paid off: it made people more cooperative.
    â€˜What can I say? Mette was a lovely, clever girl. It was obvious right from the start that she had a head for figures.’
    â€˜And not just figures,’ Ivar K cut in, back in business. ‘When did she become your mistress?’
    â€˜My mistress!’
    The words were spoken with a snort. ‘Who says she was? That’s an outright lie!’
    Ivar K let out a soft whistle.
    â€˜I don’t know how much you know about murder investigations,’ he began. ‘However, they involve some DNA testing. We simply borrow the victim’s clothing from the laundry basket at home and send it off for further examination for hair and dust and other foreign particles. And semen, obviously,’ he said, casually, inspecting his nails again. ‘It’s known as forensic evidence and if it stands up in court, it can lead to a conviction.’
    Kamm looked as if he was planning to beat a hasty retreat.
    â€˜I’m not saying I never had sex with her. But I wouldn’t use the term “mistress”, given the few times we were together.’
    â€˜How many times was that?’ said Ivar K.
    â€˜I wasn’t counting.’
    â€˜So more than twice?’
    â€˜Probably,’ came the reluctant answer.
    â€˜Three.’
    Kamm didn’t stir.
    â€˜Four times?’
    The man cleared his throat.
    â€˜Where are you going with this? I was at a family gathering all day Sunday, with my wife’s parents in Stilling.’
    â€˜We’ll probably have to speak to your wife,’ Ivar K said.
    â€˜For God’s sake. Can’t you use a little discretion?’
    It nearly always worked. For the first time Kamm looked genuinely nervous. It wasn’t, however, a killer’s fear of being exposed – it was that of a husband dreading his wife’s fury, Wagner thought.
    â€˜Okay. Listen,’ Kamm began.
    Wagner pricked up his ears and Ivar K suddenly paid attention. Kamm placed both palms on the table face up and looked at the other men before continuing.
    â€˜Yes, we had an affair. It was wrong and I should never have started it and I have regretted it ever since. Mette fell in love with me. She was terribly disappointed when I broke it off.’
    â€˜Was she blackmailing you?’ Ivar K asked.
    â€˜No, no, no, not at all. She wasn’t like that. She kept her distance, and she carried on doing her job.’
    â€˜What was Mette working on?’ said Wagner.
    Kamm closed his eyes again.
    â€˜She didn’t have her own clients, obviously,’ he said, now staring up at the ceiling. ‘She was only a trainee. But she helped a couple of her colleagues audit a firm of solicitors and a sports shop, I think it was.’
    â€˜We’ll want to speak to those colleagues. Anything else?’ Wagner said. ‘You and she didn’t work together?’
    â€˜How about overtime?’ Ivar K suggested with a grin. Wagner shot him a warning glance. It was possible to go too far.
    Kamm shook his head, tore himself away from studying the ceiling and focused on them.
    Could he be a dangerous killer? Wagner tried to read his mind while Ivar K rounded off with a couple of routine questions. No one could be eliminated yet and Kamm’s alibi would have to be checked, but Kamm came across as nothing more than an arrogant creep who had taken advantage of his position to seduce a young woman and make her fall in love with him. Wagner had some sympathy for Mette. Bosses had power