that in your hand?’
‘Japone pepper. A small red chilli.’
‘Didn’t know you cooked.’
Harry gazed with wonderment at the bag containing the chilli, as if it was new to him, too. ‘By the way, lucky I met you, boss. We have a problem.’
Møller could feel his scalp chafing.
‘I don’t know who decided Ivarsson should lead the investigation into the killing in Bogstadveien, but it’s not working.’
Møller put the list in the shopping basket. ‘How long have you worked together now? Two whole days?’
‘That’s not the point, boss.’
‘Can’t you just do your job for once in your life, Harry? And let others decide how it’s organised? Having a go at not being against everyone won’t inflict permanent damage, you know.’
‘I just want the case to be solved as quickly as possible, boss, so that I can get on with the other one, you know.’
‘Yes, I know, but you’ve been working on that case for a good deal longer than the two months I promised you, and I cannot defend the commitment of time and resources with personal considerations and emotions, Harry.’
‘She was a colleague, boss.’
‘I know!’ Møller barked. He paused, looked around, then continued in more muted tones: ‘What’s your problem, Harry?’
‘They’re used to working on robberies, and Ivarsson is not in the slightest bit interested in constructive input.’
Bjarne Møller was unable to suppress a grin at the thought of Harry’s ‘constructive input’.
Harry leaned forward. He spoke quickly and intensely: ‘What’s the first thing we ask ourselves when a murder has been committed, boss? Why? What’s the motive? That’s what we ask. In the Robberies Unit they automatically take it for granted money is the motive and don’t ask the question.’
‘So what do you think the motive is?’
‘I don’t think anything. The point is that they use completely the wrong methodology.’
‘A different methodology, Harry, different . I have to get these vegetable things bought and go home, so tell me what it is you want.’
‘I want you to talk to the people you have to talk to so that I can have one person to work solo with.’
‘Step down from the investigation team?’
‘Parallel investigation.’
‘Harry—’
‘That was how we caught the Redbreast, do you remember?’
‘Harry, I can’t interfere—’
‘I want to work with Beate Lønn, so that she and I can start afresh. Ivarsson is already getting bogged down—’
‘Harry!’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s the real reason?’
Harry shifted weight. ‘I can’t work with the smiling croc.’
‘Ivarsson?’
‘I’ll go and do something extremely stupid.’
Bjarne Møller’s eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose in a black V: ‘Is that supposed to be a threat?’
Harry placed a hand on Møller’s shoulder. ‘Just this one favour, boss. I’ll never ask for anything else again. Ever.’
Møller growled. Over the years, how many times had he put his head on the block for Harry, instead of heeding the well-meant career advice from older colleagues? Keep him at arm’s length, they said. A loose cannon, he is. The only thing that was certain about Harry Hole was that one day something was going to go disastrouslywrong. However, because, in some mysterious way, he and Harry had so far always landed on their feet, no one had been able to implement any drastic measures. So far. The most interesting question of all, though, was: Why did he put up with it? He looked across at Harry. The alcoholic. The troublemaker. The ever-unbearable, arrogant bullhead. And the best investigator he had, apart from Waaler.
‘You keep your nose clean, Harry. Otherwise I’ll shove you behind a desk and lock the door. Have you got that?’
‘Received loud and clear, boss.’
Møller sighed. ‘I have a meeting with the Chief Superintendent and Ivarsson tomorrow. We’ll have to wait and see. I’m not promising anything, do you hear?’
‘Aye, aye, boss.
‘Japone pepper. A small red chilli.’
‘Didn’t know you cooked.’
Harry gazed with wonderment at the bag containing the chilli, as if it was new to him, too. ‘By the way, lucky I met you, boss. We have a problem.’
Møller could feel his scalp chafing.
‘I don’t know who decided Ivarsson should lead the investigation into the killing in Bogstadveien, but it’s not working.’
Møller put the list in the shopping basket. ‘How long have you worked together now? Two whole days?’
‘That’s not the point, boss.’
‘Can’t you just do your job for once in your life, Harry? And let others decide how it’s organised? Having a go at not being against everyone won’t inflict permanent damage, you know.’
‘I just want the case to be solved as quickly as possible, boss, so that I can get on with the other one, you know.’
‘Yes, I know, but you’ve been working on that case for a good deal longer than the two months I promised you, and I cannot defend the commitment of time and resources with personal considerations and emotions, Harry.’
‘She was a colleague, boss.’
‘I know!’ Møller barked. He paused, looked around, then continued in more muted tones: ‘What’s your problem, Harry?’
‘They’re used to working on robberies, and Ivarsson is not in the slightest bit interested in constructive input.’
Bjarne Møller was unable to suppress a grin at the thought of Harry’s ‘constructive input’.
Harry leaned forward. He spoke quickly and intensely: ‘What’s the first thing we ask ourselves when a murder has been committed, boss? Why? What’s the motive? That’s what we ask. In the Robberies Unit they automatically take it for granted money is the motive and don’t ask the question.’
‘So what do you think the motive is?’
‘I don’t think anything. The point is that they use completely the wrong methodology.’
‘A different methodology, Harry, different . I have to get these vegetable things bought and go home, so tell me what it is you want.’
‘I want you to talk to the people you have to talk to so that I can have one person to work solo with.’
‘Step down from the investigation team?’
‘Parallel investigation.’
‘Harry—’
‘That was how we caught the Redbreast, do you remember?’
‘Harry, I can’t interfere—’
‘I want to work with Beate Lønn, so that she and I can start afresh. Ivarsson is already getting bogged down—’
‘Harry!’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s the real reason?’
Harry shifted weight. ‘I can’t work with the smiling croc.’
‘Ivarsson?’
‘I’ll go and do something extremely stupid.’
Bjarne Møller’s eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose in a black V: ‘Is that supposed to be a threat?’
Harry placed a hand on Møller’s shoulder. ‘Just this one favour, boss. I’ll never ask for anything else again. Ever.’
Møller growled. Over the years, how many times had he put his head on the block for Harry, instead of heeding the well-meant career advice from older colleagues? Keep him at arm’s length, they said. A loose cannon, he is. The only thing that was certain about Harry Hole was that one day something was going to go disastrouslywrong. However, because, in some mysterious way, he and Harry had so far always landed on their feet, no one had been able to implement any drastic measures. So far. The most interesting question of all, though, was: Why did he put up with it? He looked across at Harry. The alcoholic. The troublemaker. The ever-unbearable, arrogant bullhead. And the best investigator he had, apart from Waaler.
‘You keep your nose clean, Harry. Otherwise I’ll shove you behind a desk and lock the door. Have you got that?’
‘Received loud and clear, boss.’
Møller sighed. ‘I have a meeting with the Chief Superintendent and Ivarsson tomorrow. We’ll have to wait and see. I’m not promising anything, do you hear?’
‘Aye, aye, boss.
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