Read Online The Last Fix by K. O. Dahl - Free Book Online

and waving to
them. The radio was playing quiet blues music as they passed Roa; they went on
to Sørkedalen through a June-green cornfield caressed by the gentle
breeze and glistening like velvet in the sun. Frølich switched off the
radio when the commercials returned. 'This is Oslo,' he said, opening his palms
with passion. 'Five minutes by car and you're in the country.' The road had a
few tight bends, and on reaching the top of the hill, they could see blue water
between two green mountain tops, large-crowned deciduous trees growing along a
winding, invisible stream and in the background the fringe of the massive
Oslomarka forest. Frølich slowed down. 'Should be somewhere round here,'
he mumbled, hunched over the steering wheel.
        'The
white arrow over there,' Gunnarstranda said.
        The
arrow was a sign pointing to Vinterhagen. Frølich turned into a gravel
car park. There were big holes in the gravel after the heavy torrents of rain.
The car bumped along and pulled up in front of a green thicket. They got out.
The air was fresh and a little chilly. The holes in the gravel were still full
of rainwater. Frølich peered up. The sky seemed unsettled. Right now the
sun was shining and was very hot, but all around clouds were gathering for what
might be a sudden downpour, perhaps accompanied by thunder. Frølich
stood next to the car for a moment before taking off his jacket and hanging it
casually over his shoulder. They walked down a narrow pathway with a
greyish-black covering of compressed quarry aggregate and past a greenhouse
with a door open at one end. Someone had painted Vinterhagen on the
glass in big, fuzzy, yellow letters. A woman in her mid-twenties, wearing
shorts and a T-shirt, watched them through bored eyes.
        'I
suppose this must have been a folk high school at one time,' said Frølich
as they strolled between a large, yellow building and a piece of ground that
had been cleared for an allotment. There were attractive vegetable patches with
tidy rows of new shoots.
        'Idyllic,'
intoned Gunnarstranda, looking around. 'Idyllic.'
        'And
this looks like an accommodation building,' Frølich said with what
seemed to be genuine interest, causing his partner to frown with suspicion.
Climbing roses attached to a trellis ran along the wall. Frank pointed to an
official-looking redbrick house. 'I suppose the offices must be over there.'
They walked on towards a group of young people standing around an old, red
tractor. 'A red devil,' Frølich exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'An old
Massey-Ferguson.' At that moment something soft smacked on to the ground. They
stopped. Then another tomato spattered against one of the windows in the yellow
building, right behind them. The tomato disintegrated, leaving behind a wet,
reddish stain on the dark glass. Frølich ducked, but not quite fast
enough to avoid being hit in the face.
        
        
        Inspector
Gunnarstranda turned and regarded the woman who had been following them from
the greenhouse. She had another tomato at the ready. When Frølich
started running towards her, she dropped the tomatoes she was holding and
sprinted like a gazelle across the vegetable plot and jumped with consummate
ease over a fence. Frølich lumbered like a wounded ox. His massive upper
torso rocked from side to side and the flab bounced up and down. His white
shirt detached itself from his trousers and his tie fluttered over his
shoulder. After a few metres he came to a halt, gasping for breath.
        A
hint of a smile could just be discerned around Gunnarstranda's thin lips. The
crew around the tractor were roaring with laughter. Frølich waved his
fist after the receding tomato-thrower, turned and plodded back, rummaging
through his pockets for a handkerchief. 'Now and again I ask myself whether
we're in a real profession,' he sighed, wiping tomato juice off his hair and
beard.
        'What
would you have done if you had caught