by Samuel Bjork
“Did you see what kind of tattoo it was?”
“Yes, it was an eagle.”
“He had an eagle tattooed on his neck?”
Jenny Midthun nodded tentatively.
“Call it in immediately,” Mia said.
Anette got out her cell phone. She went outside into the street to make the call.
“Have I been helpful?” Jenny Midthun looked up at Mia with frightened eyes. “Am I going to go to prison?”
Mia patted her shoulder. “No, you’re not. But I would like you to come into town so that we can get an official statement from you. It doesn’t have to be right now, but in the next few days, would that be all right?”
Jenny Midthun agreed and walked Mia to the door. Mia produced a business card from the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to the woman.
“If you remember anything else, I want you to call me, okay?”
“I will. But I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“No, definitely not.” Mia smiled. “Many thanks for your help.”
She heard the door being locked behind her when she stepped out into the street. Poor thing. The old woman really was terrified. Mia saw the old woman’s face peer out from behind the curtains and hoped that she would not be alone for the rest of the day, that there was someone she could phone.
Mia turned when Anette had ended the call. “Did you speak to Holger?”
“No, he didn’t answer his phone. I spoke to Kim. He’ll follow it up.”
“Good.” Mia smiled.
The two police officers got into the car and drove back to Oslo quickly.
21
Holger Munch was sitting in Peppe’s Pizza being given a lesson in how to brush a doll’s hair. They had just finished eating, he and Marion—that is to say he had done the eating, Marion had spent most of her time drinking soda and playing. To his daughter’s great despair, he could not help himself, could not resist his granddaughter’s cute eyes and her pleading voice. He had never been able to. He had showered Marion with presents from the day she was born, teddies and dolls; her bedroom looked like a toy shop. Finally Miriam had put her foot down and told him that enough was enough. They were trying to bring up their daughter to be an independent and sensible girl, not a spoiled brat.
“Oh, Granddad, look. Monster High!”
“Monster what?”
“Monster High. That’s where they go to school. Look, that’s Jackson Jekyll. He’s a boy. Look at his nice yellow shirt. That’s because he’s a monster. Please, can I have him?”
“We had better not buy anything today, Marion. You remember what your mom said: we have to wait until it’s your birthday.”
“But that’s a trillion days away! And anyhow, when I’m with you, Mom’s rules don’t apply.”
“Really? Says who?”
“Says me. Just now.”
“Is that right?”
“I get to make the decisions, because I’m six years old and I’m going to go to Lilleborg School soon, and then no one can tell me what to do anymore. I’m in charge.”
Now, who did she remind him of? Sweet and lovely, but incredibly stubborn and willful?
“Oh, that’s Draculaura! Look, Granddad, Draculaura! And Frankie Stein! Frankie Stein, Granddad! Oh, please, can we buy them, Granddad?”
Marion got her way in the end, as she always did. Two dolls. Jackson Jekyll and Frankie Stein. Both students at some kind of monster school about which Holger Munch did not know the first thing, not that it mattered. But the smile in her eyes and her warm, soft arms wrapping themselves around his neck did. Who cared what school a couple of dolls went to and whether her mother would get annoyed?
“Jackson Jekyll wants to be Frankie Stein’s boyfriend, but she doesn’t want to go out with him, because she’s a tough girl who has big plans for the future.”
“You mean she’s independent?”
Marion looked up at him with her bright blue eyes. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”
Holger smiled to himself. It was like hearing his daughter’s voice all over again. Little Marion was a true copy of Miriam and then some. Holger Munch was reminded of when they had walked Miriam to school for her first day. How proud he had been. His little girl had grown up and was going out into the world. How did she suddenly turn into a heavily made-up fifteen-year-old, listening to loud music behind a closed bedroom door, definitely no Daddy’s girl anymore. Not to mention the next leap to twenty-five—how did that happen? The little girl who had clung to his leg, scared of all the other children, was now being fitted for her wedding dress, about to marry Marion’s father, Johannes, who was a newly qualified doctor from Fredrikstad and a man whom Holger barely knew. Holger Munch switched his attention back to his grandchild, who still thought he was the best grandfather in all the world and still wanted a hug and to sit on his lap.
“Now you be Jackson Jekyll,” Marion said.
“What did you say, sweetheart?”
“Now you’re Jackson Jekyll and I’m Frankie Stein.”
“Don’t you want a bit more pizza?”
“Frankie Stein doesn’t want to eat anything, because she’s on a diet. Please take the doll, Granddad.”
Holger accepted the doll reluctantly while trying not to be distracted by all the messages that kept arriving on his cell phone. He was determined not to make the same mistakes twice. When he was with Marion, she would have his full attention. That was the way it was going to be, and the rest of the world would just have to wait.
“Say something, Granddad,” Marion urged impatiently, balancing the thin monster doll on the table between leftover pizza slices.
“What do you want me to say?”
“‘Hey, Jackson, how are you?’” Marion said in her doll’s voice.
“Do you want to go see a film?”
“Yes, that sounds like fun. What’s on?”
“Pippi Longstocking,” Holger Munch said.
“But that’s a kids’ movie.” Frankie Stein sighed. “And that’s not the voice you used before, Granddad.”
“I’m sorry,” Holger said, stroking his granddaughter’s hair.
Holger saw a chance to sneak a peek at his phone. Anette had called and sent a text message. Kim had sent two text messages. And Kurt Eriksen, his family lawyer, had called several times. Holger wondered what he wanted. Marion was absorbed in playing, so he seized the opportunity to read the message from Anette.
We have the woman who made the dresses. And the customer. A man with an eagle tattoo on his neck. Have spoken to Kim. Call me.
So soon? Munch felt his policeman’s heart beat a little faster. Sometimes the media could be useful—they’d gotten a hit almost immediately. He quickly skimmed the two messages from Kim.
Might have something on the eagle tattoo guy. Curry thinks he knows who it is. Call me.
And then just:
Hello?
“Hi, where is Marion?”
Holger snapped back to reality to discover his daughter standing in front of him with a mildly irritated expression.
“Hello, Miriam. Marion? She’s—”
Marion was not in her chair.
“She was just . . .”
He never managed to complete the sentence. Miriam had already gone to retrieve Marion, who had wandered farther into the restaurant as part of her game.
“Didn’t we have a talk about buying her fewer toys?”
“Yes, but—”
“Get your things, Marion, we’re going home.”
“Already? But me and Granddad were going to get ice cream.”
“That’ll have to be some other day. Come on.”
Miriam started packing up Marion’s things. Holger got up to help.
“So how did the fitting go? Is everything all right?”
“It’s not really w
hat I wanted.” Miriam sighed. “But they have a tailor, so we can alter it. I just hope they’ll get it done in time.”
“Yes, May twelfth is not far away.”
“No, you can say that again. Come on, Marion, we have to run now. Daddy is parked illegally. Say bye-bye to Granddad.”
“Bye-bye, Granddad.” The little girl smiled and gave him a big hug. “Promise you’ll practice playing for next time?”
“I promise.” Holger returned her smile.
“Will you be going on your own?” Miriam said.
“To what?”
“To the wedding. Will you be on your own, or will you be bringing someone?”
Bring someone to the wedding? It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He didn’t quite know why, but suddenly Karen from the nursing home sprang to mind. Her face lit up every time he visited. But take someone to a wedding for your first date? No, that would be completely wrong.
“I’m coming on my own,” Holger said.
“Why don’t you bring Mia? I heard she’s back. I would love her to come. I’ve tried calling her, but her cell phone doesn’t seem to work.”
Bring Mia, now there was a thought. And he knew that Miriam and Mia liked each other.
“She has a new phone,” he said. “But I don’t mind asking her myself. In fact, it’s a very good idea.”
“Good, then I’ll add her to the list,” Miriam said, and almost smiled before she became her usual serious self. “And another thing. It looks like Johannes and I may have to take a trip to Fredrikstad next weekend. Could you have Marion?”
“Of course. She can spend the whole weekend with me. It would be great.”
“Okay, I’ll call you.”
Miriam herded Marion toward the exit.
“Bye-bye, Granddad.”
“Bye-bye, Marion.”
Holger Munch waved good-bye until the door slammed shut behind them. Then he went to pay the bill.
Once he got outside, he could barely wait to call his colleagues. His break from the world had lasted long enough. They had news about the dresses.
Kim answered his phone after the first ring. “Hello?”
“What have we got?” Munch said.
“Anette and Mia found the woman who made the dresses. A seamstress from Sandvika.”
“And?”
“The customer was a man in his mid-forties. Eagle tattoo on his neck. Ten dresses.”
“Ten dresses?”
“Correct.”
Damn.
“And we know who he is?”
“Curry thinks so. Like I said, we’re not a hundred percent, but how many people in their mid-forties have a large eagle tattoo on their neck? He fits the description. Roger Bakken. He doesn’t have a record, but Curry ran into him once when he was working on the Drug Squad.”
“What kind of guy are we talking about?”
“A drug runner. Picking up and delivering packages, you know.”
“That sounds like it could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”
“I should say so.”
“Do we have an address?”
“Last known address is a hostel down in Grønland. That is, if we’re talking about the same Roger Bakken.”
“Have we dispatched a team?”
“Mia and Anette are there now.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Holger said, hanging up.
22
Mia held the door open for Anette and followed her inside the dark reception area. Over the years Mia Krüger had seen her fair share of hostels, and, like all of them, this one had the familiar oppressive feeling of hopelessness within its walls. Last stop before the final destination. A place you ended up only once nobody wanted you.
“Hello?” Anette called out behind the counter in the faded lobby, but no one came out.
“Can’t we just go straight up?”
Mia walked across to a door that appeared to lead upstairs and pushed on the handle; it was locked.
“I think we have to be buzzed in,” Anette said, and she peered behind the reception desk. “Doesn’t a place like this usually have an entry phone? Surely they would want to have some control over who’s coming and going?”
Mia Krüger looked around. The lobby was sparsely furnished. A small table. Two spindle-back chairs. A dried-out palm in a corner.
“Hello?” Anette called again. “This is the police. Is anyone here?”
Finally a door opened behind the counter and a skinny, elderly man appeared.
“What do you want?”
“Police. Violent Crimes Section,” Mia said, placing her ID card on the counter.
The man looked at the two women with skepticism. He glanced at the photograph of Mia while he polished off the sandwich he held in his hand.
“Uh-huh,” the man said, picking at his teeth with his finger. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for a man named Roger Bakken,” Anette said.
“Bakken, hmmm,” the man said, glancing at a ledger lying in front of him.
“Roger Bakken,” Mia said impatiently. “Mid-forties, large eagle tattoo on his neck.”
“Oh, him,” the skinny man said, now sucking at his teeth with his tongue. “I’m afraid you’re too late.”
“What do you mean?”
The thin man smirked slightly. He seemed almost pleased to throw a monkey wrench into their plans. Clearly not a big fan of the police.
“Checked out about a month ago.”
“Checked out?”
“Dead. All gone. Suicide,” the thin man said as he took a seat behind the counter.
“Are you messing with us?” Mia said irritably. “By the way, I assume everything here is in order? Nobody staying here who shouldn’t be? And you don’t allow drugs here, do you?”
The thin man got up again, smilier and more obliging now. “No, of course we don’t. He killed himself, jumped from the roof and hit the tarmac. That is, if we’re talking about the same guy.”
“Roger Bakken. Mid-forties. A tattoo on his neck.”
“That sounds like him.” The man nodded. “Tragic story, but he wouldn’t be the first one. That’s life. Or it is for these guys.”
“How did it happen?” Anette asked.
“Jumped from the balcony in the lounge on the eighth floor.”
“You have a balcony? What kind of place is this?”
The thin man gave a shrug. “What can we do? Nail the windows shut? People have a right to make decisions about their own lives, even if they don’t belong to the upper echelons of society, don’t you think?”
Mia decided to ignore the sarcasm. “Please can we see his room?”
“Sorry, someone else’s already living there. We have a waiting list of several months.”
“Did he have any family? Has anyone been by to collect his things?”
“Nope,” the thin man said. “We called the police, and someone came to pick up the body. Not many of our residents have family. Or if they do, then the family doesn’t want to know about them.”
“Do you still have his stuff?”
“It’s in a box in the basement, as far as I know.”
“Thank you,” Mia said impatiently.
“You’re welcome,” the thin man said.
Mia drummed her fingers on the counter. She had forgotten all of this. What it was like. To be a police officer in the capital. To be back in the world. She missed her house. Her island. The view of the sea.
Come to me, Mia, come.
“I was thanking you for your help,” she said at length.
“You what?”
“For getting his stuff and handing it over without us having to waste the whole day.”
The thin man looked surly, but then he nodded and shuffle
d to the back room.
“Shit,” Mia muttered under her breath.
“What’s wrong?” Anette said.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t normally let people like that get to you.”
“I slept badly,” Mia said by way of excuse.
At that very moment, the door opened and Holger Munch appeared.
“What have we got?” He sounded breathless as he reached the counter.
“Bad news.”
“What is it?”
“Roger Bakken killed himself a month ago.” Anette heaved a sigh.
“Before Pauline disappeared?”
Mia nodded.
“Damn!” Holger exclaimed.
His cell rang. He stared at the display for a moment before he decided to answer the call. The thin man reappeared from the back room carrying a box.
“Here we are. That was all he had.” He placed the box on the counter in front of them.
“Is there a cell phone? Computer?”
The thin man shrugged his shoulders again. “Never checked.”
Mia produced a card from her back pocket and put it on the counter.
“We’ll be taking it with us,” she said. “Call me if you have any questions.”
“What the hell?”
Anette and Mia turned simultaneously, startled at Holger’s sudden outburst on the phone. He ended the call and turned to them with a grim expression on his face.
“Is that all?” he asked, nodding toward the box.
“Yep.”
“Who were you talking to?” Mia asked curiously.
“My family lawyer.”
“Problem?”
“I have to go see him now. I’ll meet you at the office.”
Holger Munch slipped his cell phone into the pocket of his duffel coat and held the door open for his two colleagues.
23
As Lukas rode his bicycle, he felt the lovely spring air on his face. He was in high spirits today; he had risen early, carried out his chores, morning prayer and housework. It was his responsibility to keep the chapel nice and tidy, an important job that he valued. To describe morning prayer as a chore was wrong. Morning prayer was a joy. Sometimes he would even start praying the moment he woke up, while he was still in bed, even though he really ought to get dressed and have his breakfast first. But he just couldn’t help himself. It felt so right. Talking to God. For that to be his first activity as soon as he had opened his eyes. He started every prayer by expressing gratitude. He thanked God for taking care of his nearest and dearest. For Pastor Simon. For everyone up in the forest. Occasionally he wondered if he ought to have included his former families in his thanks, but to be honest he could no longer remember their faces. His birth family who had given him up, his foster family who hadn’t cared about him all that much, he was not angry with any of them—why on earth would he be angry? Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do. It was a no-brainer as far as Lukas was concerned. If he had not grown up the way he had, he never would have ended up at the campsite in Sørlandet, never had the chance to be completely happy in union with God and Pastor Simon. Lukas grinned from ear to ear and trod harder on the bike pedals. Why would he be dissatisfied with anything? He had no cause. Life was wonderful. Perfect. He chuckled to himself and whispered a short prayer. A thank-you. Thank you, God, for the birds in the trees and this fine road. Thank you, God, for spring and all the other seasons. Thank you, God, for making me important, for finding Pastor Simon for me, because I wake up and fall asleep every day with joy in my heart. He said this last part out loud as he felt the warmth and the light course through his blood. The pastor was in direct contact with God; Lukas could bear witness to that himself, it was not nonsense. He had seen it happen several times. He had seen God in the room. Thank you, God, for purifying me. Thank you, God, for the beautiful wildflowers along the road. Thank you, God, for the Whisperers. Thank you, God, for the Shouters. Thank you, God, for making my life complete.
