Read Online He Who Fears the Wolf by Karin Fossum - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karin Fossum
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Mystery Fiction, Police, Police Procedural, Sejer; Konrad (Fictitious character), Police - Norway
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all."
"What did you see of the hostage?"
"Virtually nothing. She was standing with her back to me . . . You'll have to talk to the teller," he added. "Let's hope she's the type who can handle the pressure."
*
Gurvin had been expecting the chief inspector, but because of an armed robbery in town early that morning, they only sent over an officer to take his statement.
Jacob Skarre looked like a young choir boy, with fair curls and delicate features. His uniform suited him, and seemed to have been tailored for his slight form. Gurvin, on the other hand, never felt happy in his official attire. Maybe it was because of the shape of his body. At any rate, the uniform just didn't feel comfortable on him.
The confident air of the young man made him feel ill at ease, prompting him to think back over his own life. He did that at regular intervals anyway, but he liked to decide on the appropriate time.
The worst of the shock at discovering Halldis dead had begun to wear off. Gurvin was now the subject of attention, the likes of which he hadn't experienced for a long time, and he had to admit to himself that he was enjoying it. But still, he had known Halldis for years. He remembered something she used to say when he and his friends were children, and stood at her door asking for something.
"There are too many of you! When I was a child only the toughest little brats survived!"
"What do you think?" Gurvin said tentatively, catching sight of the pack of cigarettes sticking out of Skarre's shirt pocket. "Shall we risk breaking the no-smoking law?"
Skarre nodded and plucked the cigarettes out of his pocket.
"I've known Halldis and Thorvald ever since I was a child," Gurvin began, taking a drag on his cigarette. "We children were allowed to pick raspberries and rhubarb behind their shed. And she wasn't that old, either. Only 76. She was in good shape. Thorvald was too, but he died of a heart attack seven years ago."
"So she lived alone?" Skarre blew smoke up towards the ceiling.
"They didn't have any children. Her only family is a younger sister in Hammerfest."
"You've written up a report?" said Skarre. "Could I see it?"
Gurvin took a plastic folder out of his desk drawer and handed it to Skarre, who read it line by line.
"It says, 'Still unclear whether anything was removed from the house'. Did you check the drawers and cupboards?"
"Well, you see," Gurvin said, "Halldis had quite a lot of silver, but everything was still in the cupboard in the living room. The same is true of the few pieces of jewellery that she kept in the bedroom."
"What about cash?"
"We don't know whether she had any there."
"But did you find her handbag?"
"It was hanging on a hook in the bedroom."
"What about her wallet?"
"We didn't find a wallet, that's true."
"Some thieves only want cash," Skarre said. "Someone without contacts, who might have trouble disposing of valuables. He might not have intended to kill her. Maybe he was caught by surprise. Maybe she was outside, and he sneaked in through the kitchen."
"And then she appeared in the doorway? Is that what you mean?"
"Yes, something like that. We must find out if any money was taken. Did she do her own shopping?"
"She went to town once in a while, by taxi. But she had her groceries brought up to the farm by the shopkeeper here. Once a week."
"So the shopkeeper delivered her groceries, and she paid with cash? Or did she have an account?"
"I don't know."
"Call him up," Skarre said. "Maybe he knows where she kept her money, if he's someone she trusted."
"I'm sure she did," said Gurvin, reaching for the phone. He got through to the shopkeeper and spent a few minutes mumbling into the receiver.
"He says she kept her wallet in the bread tin. A metal bread tin on the kitchen counter. I actually opened it. There was half a loaf of bread inside, nothing else. He said it was red, with a pattern in the leather. Imitation alligator hide, with a brass clasp."
Skarre read through the report
"What did you see of the hostage?"
"Virtually nothing. She was standing with her back to me . . . You'll have to talk to the teller," he added. "Let's hope she's the type who can handle the pressure."
*
Gurvin had been expecting the chief inspector, but because of an armed robbery in town early that morning, they only sent over an officer to take his statement.
Jacob Skarre looked like a young choir boy, with fair curls and delicate features. His uniform suited him, and seemed to have been tailored for his slight form. Gurvin, on the other hand, never felt happy in his official attire. Maybe it was because of the shape of his body. At any rate, the uniform just didn't feel comfortable on him.
The confident air of the young man made him feel ill at ease, prompting him to think back over his own life. He did that at regular intervals anyway, but he liked to decide on the appropriate time.
The worst of the shock at discovering Halldis dead had begun to wear off. Gurvin was now the subject of attention, the likes of which he hadn't experienced for a long time, and he had to admit to himself that he was enjoying it. But still, he had known Halldis for years. He remembered something she used to say when he and his friends were children, and stood at her door asking for something.
"There are too many of you! When I was a child only the toughest little brats survived!"
"What do you think?" Gurvin said tentatively, catching sight of the pack of cigarettes sticking out of Skarre's shirt pocket. "Shall we risk breaking the no-smoking law?"
Skarre nodded and plucked the cigarettes out of his pocket.
"I've known Halldis and Thorvald ever since I was a child," Gurvin began, taking a drag on his cigarette. "We children were allowed to pick raspberries and rhubarb behind their shed. And she wasn't that old, either. Only 76. She was in good shape. Thorvald was too, but he died of a heart attack seven years ago."
"So she lived alone?" Skarre blew smoke up towards the ceiling.
"They didn't have any children. Her only family is a younger sister in Hammerfest."
"You've written up a report?" said Skarre. "Could I see it?"
Gurvin took a plastic folder out of his desk drawer and handed it to Skarre, who read it line by line.
"It says, 'Still unclear whether anything was removed from the house'. Did you check the drawers and cupboards?"
"Well, you see," Gurvin said, "Halldis had quite a lot of silver, but everything was still in the cupboard in the living room. The same is true of the few pieces of jewellery that she kept in the bedroom."
"What about cash?"
"We don't know whether she had any there."
"But did you find her handbag?"
"It was hanging on a hook in the bedroom."
"What about her wallet?"
"We didn't find a wallet, that's true."
"Some thieves only want cash," Skarre said. "Someone without contacts, who might have trouble disposing of valuables. He might not have intended to kill her. Maybe he was caught by surprise. Maybe she was outside, and he sneaked in through the kitchen."
"And then she appeared in the doorway? Is that what you mean?"
"Yes, something like that. We must find out if any money was taken. Did she do her own shopping?"
"She went to town once in a while, by taxi. But she had her groceries brought up to the farm by the shopkeeper here. Once a week."
"So the shopkeeper delivered her groceries, and she paid with cash? Or did she have an account?"
"I don't know."
"Call him up," Skarre said. "Maybe he knows where she kept her money, if he's someone she trusted."
"I'm sure she did," said Gurvin, reaching for the phone. He got through to the shopkeeper and spent a few minutes mumbling into the receiver.
"He says she kept her wallet in the bread tin. A metal bread tin on the kitchen counter. I actually opened it. There was half a loaf of bread inside, nothing else. He said it was red, with a pattern in the leather. Imitation alligator hide, with a brass clasp."
Skarre read through the report
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