enough to keep your hands full!”
“No, thanks all the same.”
Despite her boss’s stern look and the unflattering situation in which she had just been found, she knew that he knew.
“I’ve got more than enough. We all have.”
Her boss took a seat.
“Have you made any progress with Saturday’s rape? That lady student?”
Chief Inspector Kaldbakken must be one of the last people to call female students ladies. There were rumors he still wore his student cap on May 17 as well.
“No, nothing in particular, just the usual. No one has seen anything, no one has heard anything. She’s finding it hugely difficult to give more than a vague description. You’ve seen the sketch yourself—it looks like anyone and everyone. We’ve received about fifty tip-offs and Erik has been going through them. None of them seems especially interesting. So he says, at least. I’ll have a look through them myself.”
“I don’t like it.” He cleared his throat and then coughed for fully four minutes.
“You should give up smoking, Kaldbakken,” she said in a hushed tone, noting it sounded like the second-to-last stage of emphysema. He should stop. Really.
“That’s what my wife says too,” he replied, half choking, and ended the paroxysm with vigorous hawking, producing a great deal of muck with a revolting consistency. A well-used gigantic handkerchief was raised to his mouth and filled with the stuff. Hanne Wilhelmsen tactfully turned away, letting her eye rest on two sparrows pecking each other on the windowsill. It might be too hot for them too.
“I don’t like it,” he repeated. “Rapes seldom come singly. Have you heard back from Forensics?”
“No, it’s far too early. It usually takes weeks to get anything from them.”
“Chase them down, Wilhelmsen. Chase them down. I’m really quite concerned.”
With no little effort and strain, he got to his feet, coughing all the way back to his office.
THURSDAY, JUNE 3
I t was not easy to take time off, just like that, all of a sudden. Nevertheless, his two colleagues had been extremely understanding and demonstrated goodwill by accommodating his patients at short notice. It was a financial loss. On the other hand, it had been many years since he had treated himself to a proper vacation.
Vacation and vacation. He had a great deal to do. It was still somewhat unclear where he should begin. And so he started with a swim. The baths were surprisingly full, even at this time, seven o’clock in the morning. The chlorine miasma hung densely above the swimmers—it had probably been recently replenished. Some appeared to be regular patrons, greeting each other and chatting at the poolside. Others were more purposeful, swimming to and fro in the fifty-meter-long swimming pool without paying attention to anyone else and without looking at anybody. They just swam, swam, and swam. So did he.
After a hundred meters, he was exhausted. After two hundred, he realized he wasn’t hampered only by his years but also by too much body fat. The difficulty began to ease off after another two lengths. He had fallen into a rhythm his heart could accept. His body was far more sluggish than the others splashing steadily past him, up and down, up and down. Their muscular torsos trailed a wake, like heavy vessels in miniature. He hung on to the stern wave of a garish pair of swimming trunks. After seven hundred meters, he felt ready. It was a remarkable start to the day. He could not remember when he’d last had time for swimming. As he hauledhimself onto the edge of the pool, he pulled in his abdomen and thrust out his chest. It didn’t last farther than the stairway to the changing rooms, where he squeezed the air out through clenched teeth and let his upper body sink back where it belonged.
He found comfort in the sauna. The others did not look quite the same, in heat of almost a hundred degrees, their complexions florid. While he was sitting there, with a towel wrapped
“No, thanks all the same.”
Despite her boss’s stern look and the unflattering situation in which she had just been found, she knew that he knew.
“I’ve got more than enough. We all have.”
Her boss took a seat.
“Have you made any progress with Saturday’s rape? That lady student?”
Chief Inspector Kaldbakken must be one of the last people to call female students ladies. There were rumors he still wore his student cap on May 17 as well.
“No, nothing in particular, just the usual. No one has seen anything, no one has heard anything. She’s finding it hugely difficult to give more than a vague description. You’ve seen the sketch yourself—it looks like anyone and everyone. We’ve received about fifty tip-offs and Erik has been going through them. None of them seems especially interesting. So he says, at least. I’ll have a look through them myself.”
“I don’t like it.” He cleared his throat and then coughed for fully four minutes.
“You should give up smoking, Kaldbakken,” she said in a hushed tone, noting it sounded like the second-to-last stage of emphysema. He should stop. Really.
“That’s what my wife says too,” he replied, half choking, and ended the paroxysm with vigorous hawking, producing a great deal of muck with a revolting consistency. A well-used gigantic handkerchief was raised to his mouth and filled with the stuff. Hanne Wilhelmsen tactfully turned away, letting her eye rest on two sparrows pecking each other on the windowsill. It might be too hot for them too.
“I don’t like it,” he repeated. “Rapes seldom come singly. Have you heard back from Forensics?”
“No, it’s far too early. It usually takes weeks to get anything from them.”
“Chase them down, Wilhelmsen. Chase them down. I’m really quite concerned.”
With no little effort and strain, he got to his feet, coughing all the way back to his office.
THURSDAY, JUNE 3
I t was not easy to take time off, just like that, all of a sudden. Nevertheless, his two colleagues had been extremely understanding and demonstrated goodwill by accommodating his patients at short notice. It was a financial loss. On the other hand, it had been many years since he had treated himself to a proper vacation.
Vacation and vacation. He had a great deal to do. It was still somewhat unclear where he should begin. And so he started with a swim. The baths were surprisingly full, even at this time, seven o’clock in the morning. The chlorine miasma hung densely above the swimmers—it had probably been recently replenished. Some appeared to be regular patrons, greeting each other and chatting at the poolside. Others were more purposeful, swimming to and fro in the fifty-meter-long swimming pool without paying attention to anyone else and without looking at anybody. They just swam, swam, and swam. So did he.
After a hundred meters, he was exhausted. After two hundred, he realized he wasn’t hampered only by his years but also by too much body fat. The difficulty began to ease off after another two lengths. He had fallen into a rhythm his heart could accept. His body was far more sluggish than the others splashing steadily past him, up and down, up and down. Their muscular torsos trailed a wake, like heavy vessels in miniature. He hung on to the stern wave of a garish pair of swimming trunks. After seven hundred meters, he felt ready. It was a remarkable start to the day. He could not remember when he’d last had time for swimming. As he hauledhimself onto the edge of the pool, he pulled in his abdomen and thrust out his chest. It didn’t last farther than the stairway to the changing rooms, where he squeezed the air out through clenched teeth and let his upper body sink back where it belonged.
He found comfort in the sauna. The others did not look quite the same, in heat of almost a hundred degrees, their complexions florid. While he was sitting there, with a towel wrapped
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