Read Online He Who Fears the Wolf by Karin Fossum - Free Book Online
Authors: Karin Fossum
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Mystery Fiction, Police, Police Procedural, Sejer; Konrad (Fictitious character), Police - Norway
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about his hairline?"
"Is that important?"
"Yes, it is. A person's hairline establishes a lot about his face. Take a look at your own face. You have a nearly perfect hairline. Straight and even across your forehead, with a nice arc at the temples. And your hair is of the same thickness all along it. That's quite rare."
"Really?" He shook his head. Vanity was not one of his sins, not any more at any rate, and the last thing he paid attention to was his hairline. He paused to think.
"Curving, not straight. Maybe a little pointed towards the middle of his forehead. His hair was cut short, that's why I saw it so clearly."
This slow method of approaching the actual facial features made the man's appearance clearer than ever. The police artist certainly knew his job. Fascinated, Sejer stared at the piece of paper and saw a figure gradually emerge, like a print in a darkroom.
"Now his hair."
He kept on sketching lightly so that new strokes were constantly added on top or on the sides. He didn't use an eraser. The dozens of thin lines gave substance to the figure.
"Thick and curly, almost like an Afro. It grew straight up from his skull, but it was cut very short. Like mine."
He ran his hand over his hair, which was short and bristly, like a brush.
"The colour?"
"Blond. Possibly very light-coloured, but I'm a rather unclear about that. Some hair looks extremely fair in certain situations, you know, but it can look dark when it's wet. It all depends on the amount of light. I'm not quite sure. Maybe close to your hair colour."
"Mine?" Sketches looked up. "But I don't have any hair."
"No, but the way your hair used to look."
"How would you know what my hair was like?"
Sejer hesitated. He didn't know if he had offended the man or simply sounded stupid.
"I don't know," he replied. "I'm just guessing."
"Well, you guessed right. My hair is – I mean was – light blond. You're very observant."
"The sketch is starting to look like him."
"Now we come to the eyes."
"That will be harder. L didn't see them. He was walking along with his eyes fixed on the ground, and inside the bank he stood with his back partly turned."
"That's a shame. But the teller saw them, and it's her turn next."
"It's worse than a shame. It's a disaster that I didn't stay in that bank a little longer. I'm old enough to take my intuitions seriously."
"Well, you can't do everything right all the time. What about his nose?"
"Short, and quite wide. Also a little African-looking."
"His mouth?"
"A small, pouting mouth."
"Eyebrows?"
"Darker than his hair. Straight. Wide. Almost joined in the middle."
"Cheekbones?"
"They didn't stand out. His face was too full."
"Any distinguishing marks on his skin?"
"Nothing at all. Nice smooth complexion. No beard or stubble that I could see. No shadow on his upper lip. Freshly shaven."
"Or not much of a beard to start with. Anything distinctive about his clothes?"
"Not that I remember. Well, yes, there was one thing."
"What's that?"
"His clothes didn't look as though they belonged to him. It wasn't the way he would normally dress. They seemed old-fashioned."
"Most likely he's changed clothes by now. His shoes?"
"Brown shoes with laces."
"And his hands?"
"I didn't see them, as I told you. If they match the rest of his body, they would be stubby and round."
"And his age, Konrad?"
"Between 19 and . . . 25."
He had to close his eyes again in order to block out the artist.
"Height?"
"Quite a bit shorter than me."
"Everybody is shorter than you," Sketches said dryly.
"Maybe one metre 70."
"Weight?"
"He was powerfully built. Over 80 kilos, I'd say. You haven't asked me about his ears," Sejer said.
"What were his ears like?"
"Small and well formed. Round lobes. No earrings or studs."
Sejer leaned back in his chair and smiled with satisfaction. "Now all that's left is to figure out what political party he votes for."
The artist chuckled. "What would be your guess?"
"I doubt that he votes at
"Is that important?"
"Yes, it is. A person's hairline establishes a lot about his face. Take a look at your own face. You have a nearly perfect hairline. Straight and even across your forehead, with a nice arc at the temples. And your hair is of the same thickness all along it. That's quite rare."
"Really?" He shook his head. Vanity was not one of his sins, not any more at any rate, and the last thing he paid attention to was his hairline. He paused to think.
"Curving, not straight. Maybe a little pointed towards the middle of his forehead. His hair was cut short, that's why I saw it so clearly."
This slow method of approaching the actual facial features made the man's appearance clearer than ever. The police artist certainly knew his job. Fascinated, Sejer stared at the piece of paper and saw a figure gradually emerge, like a print in a darkroom.
"Now his hair."
He kept on sketching lightly so that new strokes were constantly added on top or on the sides. He didn't use an eraser. The dozens of thin lines gave substance to the figure.
"Thick and curly, almost like an Afro. It grew straight up from his skull, but it was cut very short. Like mine."
He ran his hand over his hair, which was short and bristly, like a brush.
"The colour?"
"Blond. Possibly very light-coloured, but I'm a rather unclear about that. Some hair looks extremely fair in certain situations, you know, but it can look dark when it's wet. It all depends on the amount of light. I'm not quite sure. Maybe close to your hair colour."
"Mine?" Sketches looked up. "But I don't have any hair."
"No, but the way your hair used to look."
"How would you know what my hair was like?"
Sejer hesitated. He didn't know if he had offended the man or simply sounded stupid.
"I don't know," he replied. "I'm just guessing."
"Well, you guessed right. My hair is – I mean was – light blond. You're very observant."
"The sketch is starting to look like him."
"Now we come to the eyes."
"That will be harder. L didn't see them. He was walking along with his eyes fixed on the ground, and inside the bank he stood with his back partly turned."
"That's a shame. But the teller saw them, and it's her turn next."
"It's worse than a shame. It's a disaster that I didn't stay in that bank a little longer. I'm old enough to take my intuitions seriously."
"Well, you can't do everything right all the time. What about his nose?"
"Short, and quite wide. Also a little African-looking."
"His mouth?"
"A small, pouting mouth."
"Eyebrows?"
"Darker than his hair. Straight. Wide. Almost joined in the middle."
"Cheekbones?"
"They didn't stand out. His face was too full."
"Any distinguishing marks on his skin?"
"Nothing at all. Nice smooth complexion. No beard or stubble that I could see. No shadow on his upper lip. Freshly shaven."
"Or not much of a beard to start with. Anything distinctive about his clothes?"
"Not that I remember. Well, yes, there was one thing."
"What's that?"
"His clothes didn't look as though they belonged to him. It wasn't the way he would normally dress. They seemed old-fashioned."
"Most likely he's changed clothes by now. His shoes?"
"Brown shoes with laces."
"And his hands?"
"I didn't see them, as I told you. If they match the rest of his body, they would be stubby and round."
"And his age, Konrad?"
"Between 19 and . . . 25."
He had to close his eyes again in order to block out the artist.
"Height?"
"Quite a bit shorter than me."
"Everybody is shorter than you," Sketches said dryly.
"Maybe one metre 70."
"Weight?"
"He was powerfully built. Over 80 kilos, I'd say. You haven't asked me about his ears," Sejer said.
"What were his ears like?"
"Small and well formed. Round lobes. No earrings or studs."
Sejer leaned back in his chair and smiled with satisfaction. "Now all that's left is to figure out what political party he votes for."
The artist chuckled. "What would be your guess?"
"I doubt that he votes at
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