by Samuel Bjork
‘I need to borrow your phone,’ Munch said, stumbling towards reception.
‘No, wait, you can’t just …’
‘Munch, police, my mother is a resident here,’ Munch mumbled and picked up the handset.
He held it in his hand, still feeling groggy. Bloody modern technology, he didn’t know any telephone numbers by heart these days. He called Directory Enquiries and asked to be put through to Police Headquarters in Grønland. Finally, his call was answered and he asked to be put through to the special unit. Ludvig picked up the phone.
‘Grønlie speaking?’
‘It’s Munch.’
‘Holger, where on earth have you been?’
‘I haven’t got time to explain. Ludvig, is Mia there?’
‘No, she’s gone.’
‘What do you mean, ìgoneî? Where is she?’
‘She’s not here,’ Ludvig said.
‘But what the hell –’ Munch said. ‘Is Gabriel there?’
‘Munch …’ Ludvig began.
‘Put me through to Gabriel. He must be able to trace her mobile. Get me Gabriel.’
‘Munch!’ Ludvig said again.
‘For Christ’s sake, Ludvig, just put me through to Gabriel!’
‘Your granddaughter has gone missing,’ Ludvig said on the other end.
Munch fell completely silent.
‘Marion is gone,’ Ludvig repeated. ‘Someone took her from the flat. But it’s going to be all right, Munch: we have Stoltz. She turned herself in. Did you hear me? We have Malin Stoltz. Anette and Curry are interviewing her as we speak. Everything will be all right.’
Munch slowly woke up. Like a bear from hibernation.
‘It’s not her,’ he growled.
‘What do you mean?’
The whole world was spinning for Munch now.
‘Send a car.’
‘But Munch?’
‘Send me a bloody car!’ he screamed down the phone.
‘But I don’t know where you are!’ Ludvig screamed back at him.
‘Sorry,’ Munch said, realizing he was shaking all over. ‘Høvikveien Care Home. Send a car, Ludvig. I’m not in a fit state to drive. Send a car.’
He put down the handset on the table and staggered out into the evening twilight.
Chapter 78
There was an atmosphere of both tension and relief in the modern interview room in the basement of Police Headquarters in Grønland. They had been looking for her for so long. First, as an invisible face, a serial killer whose identity they didn’t know, then for every woman with different-coloured eyes living in a flat covered with mirrors. And now she was here. Just one metre away. Anette watched her furtively while Curry poured yet another glass of water. Malin Stoltz. Anette didn’t know quite what she had expected, but probably not this. Stoltz was so delicate and frail. Long, black hair covering a pale face. Thin fingers that could barely manage to raise the water glass to her dry lips.
‘Thank you,’ Malin Stoltz said timidly, bowing her head again.
Anette almost felt sorry for her.
‘You have the right to have a lawyer present, do you understand that?’ Curry said, sitting down.
Malin Stoltz nodded faintly.
‘I don’t need one,’ she whispered.
‘It might be a good idea,’ Anette suggested.
Malin Stoltz glanced up at her. One brown and one blue eye, looking like they had lost the will to live.
‘I don’t need one,’ Malin Stoltz repeated, then raked a thin hand through her black hair. ‘I’ll tell you everything I know.’
‘The suspect has declined her right to legal counsel,’ Curry said into the small microphone on the table.
‘Are you sure?’ Anette said.
Malin Stoltz nodded once more, still very carefully. She was so fragile. Anette feared that she would break if she spoke too loud or even just snapped her fingers.
‘I’ll tell you everything I know,’ Stoltz continued. ‘But I want you to call someone.’
‘And who would that be?’ Curry said brusquely.
Anette signalled for him to back off. There was no cause for aggression. Malin Stoltz was already broken.
‘I’m ill,’ Malin said. ‘I have a disease. I want you to call my doctor, please?’
Malin looked at her again, this time with a pleading expression.
‘Of course,’ Anette nodded. ‘What is the number?’
‘I know it by heart,’ Malin said.
Curry pushed a notepad and pen across the table. His mobile beeped. He checked the message while Malin wrote down the number. He raised his eyebrows and slid his mobile across to Anette. It was from Ludvig.
Munch is on his way.
Anette smiled and pushed the phone back. Munch was back. At last. Anette took the notepad from Malin Stoltz and passed it to Curry.
‘Please would you make the call?’
Curry nodded and left the room.
‘Would you like some more water?’ Anette asked her when they were alone.
‘No, thank you,’ Stoltz whispered, hanging her head again.
‘What is wrong with you?’
‘The doctors can’t work it out,’ Malin said. ‘But it’s in my head. My mind is not sound. Sometimes I don’t know who I am. But they can’t work out what it is.’
‘Where is Marion Munch?’ Anette asked her.
‘Who?’
Malin Stoltz looked perplexed.
‘Marion Munch. You took her from the flat, didn’t you? Where are you keeping her?’
‘Who?’ Stoltz said again.
She seemed genuinely mystifed now.
‘You know why you’re here, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Malin nodded.
‘And why are you here?’
‘We conned the old people,’ Malin said in a weak voice.
This time it was Anette’s turn to look astounded.
‘What do you mean?’
Malin looked up at her.
‘We conned the old people. We didn’t mean to. That was just how it ended up. Karen and I. We needed the money. I was going to adopt a child. It’s difficult when you’re single and you’re not in good health. Do you know how difficult and expensive it is to adopt a child?’
Anette had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.
‘Are you ill at this moment, Malin?’
‘What? Am I?’
Malin Stoltz sat up with a jolt and looked around.
‘Right now are you Malin, or someone else?’
‘My name is not Malin,’ Stoltz said.
‘Then what is your name?’
‘My name is Maiken Storberget,’ Malin Stoltz said.
‘So why do you call yourself Malin?’
‘It was Karen’s idea,’ the skinny woman said.
Maiken Storberget. Anette was really confused now, but she didn’t let the other woman see it.
Curry returned to the interview room.
‘Right, I ‘ve had a chat to your doctor. He asked me to give you his best and tell you that she’s on her way.’
He had completely turned off his aggression. And there was no need for it, anyway. As she sat in front of them, Anette began to wonder if Malin Stoltz really was the woman they were looking for. She would have to be a very good liar. Which was a possibility. She had told them she had a mental illness. That she was not always herself. But Anette had met her fair share of liars throughout the years and, if Malin Stoltz was one of them, she was extremely good. Anette switched off the recorder and excused herself. She pulled Curry out into the corridor, leaving Malin Stoltz alone in the interview room.
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘Malin is telling the truth,’ Curry replied. ‘She has been in and out of institutions since she was a kid. If the man I spoke to really was a doctor, then this case is so strange that I don’t know what to believe any more.’
‘Did he tell you what she suffers from?’
‘No, Doctor–pati
ent confidentiality and all that, but he was happy to confirm that she’s off her trolley.’
‘Curry …’
‘Mentally ill – dammit, Anette, that woman has killed four children and I have to watch my tongue?’
‘Make sure he is a real doctor and get someone to run a check on Maiken Storberget.’
‘Who’s she?’
Anette nodded in the direction of the room.
‘Stoltz?’
‘So she says. Please?’
‘Sure,’ Curry said.
Anette returned to the interview room and restarted the recorder.
‘Friday, 4 May 2012, the time is 22.40, present is Police Prosecutor Anette Goli, who is interviewing Malin Stoltz.’
‘Maiken Storberget,’ Stoltz said, but suddenly she didn’t seem quite so sure.
‘What would you like me to call you?’ Anette asked her kindly.
‘Maiken, I think,’ Malin said.
‘Right, Maiken it is. Would you like some more water, Maiken?’
‘No, thank you, this is fine.’
‘Do you know why you’re here, Maiken?’
‘Yes, because Karen and I tricked the old people. I’m so sorry.’
‘That’s not why you are here, Maiken.’
‘Isn’t it?’
Maiken Storberget, formerly known as Malin Stoltz, gave her an odd look.
‘Are you quite sure that you don’t want a lawyer present?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. So why am I here?’
‘You’re suspected of the murder of four girls aged six and the abduction of six-year-old Marion Munch.’
‘Oh … no, no, no, no.’
‘You need to sit down, Maiken.’
‘Oh no, no … no, no, I’m telling you, no, I haven’t got anything to do with that. Oh no. No, no, no.’
Anette already regretted agreeing to taking off her handcuffs. Maiken Storberget looked as if she was about to harm herself.
‘Please sit down, Maiken.’
‘I’ve got nothing to do with that.’
‘Please sit down, Maiken.’
‘That business, oh, no, no, no. I didn’t do it, I’m telling you.’
‘If you promise me that you’ll sit down, then I’ll listen to you, how about that?’ Anette said in her nicest voice, her finger edging nearer the button under the table. She was reluctant to summon uniformed officers; that would be only a last resort.
Maiken Storberget looked at Anette momentarily before deciding to sit down.
‘Maiken?’
‘Yes?’
‘Let’s forget what I said, shall we?’
‘OK,’ Maiken said quizzically, and wiped away a tear.
‘What were you just telling me about?’
‘The old people?’ Maiken nodded, sitting up in the chair.
‘Which old people?’
‘Old people in care,’ Maiken said quietly. ‘I met Karen in Hønefoss. At a group for people who can’t have children. We became friends. It was her idea; she said she knew someone.’
‘Who?’
‘A priest. Well, he wasn’t a priest to begin with – I think he sold cars – but he became a priest and took money from people who were going to die.’
‘Their inheritance?’
Mia had briefed the team about the church that had been trying to con Munch’s mother out of her money.
Maiken Storberget nodded.
‘We got paid for every name we supplied them with, people who were …’
‘People who were?’
Maiken hesitated.
‘Well, you know, old, whom we might persuade to believe in God.’
She was clearly ashamed now. She wrung her thin hands in her lap.
‘And for how long did this continue?’
‘Oh, a long time. A long time. We conned a lot of people.’
The door opened and Curry entered the room. Anette spoke into the microphone.
‘The time is 22.57. Investigator Jon Larsen has just entered the room. The interview with Malin Stoltz, Maiken Storberget, continues.’
She looked up at Curry, who nodded.
‘It’s all true,’ he said.
‘So who is Karen?’ Anette said.
‘Don’t you know Karen?’ Maiken said.
‘Who is Karen?’ Curry said.
‘No, we don’t know Karen,’ Anette said.
‘I know Karen,’ said Munch, who had suddenly appeared in the room.
Anette hadn’t even heard the door open.
‘The time is 22.59. The head of the special unit, Holger Munch, has just entered the interview room,’ Anette said into the microphone.
‘Where’s Karen?’ Munch said, taking a seat at the head of the table.
Maiken Storberget looked embarrassed at Munch’s arrival. They recognized one another. And Maiken had been part of the attempt to trick the Munch family out of their inheritance.
‘I’m sorry, Holger,’ Maiken mumbled, and looked at her lap. ‘I just wanted a baby. Why can’t I have a baby when everybody else can?’
‘It’s quite all right, Malin,’ Munch said calmly, placing his hand on her shoulder. ‘I just want to know where Karen is.’
‘Maiken,’ Anette corrected him.
‘Eh?’ Munch said, turning to her.
Anette had seen her boss exhausted before, but never like this. He could barely lift his head. If she hadn’t known he never touched alcohol, she would have sworn that he had been drinking.
‘Maiken Storberget,’ Curry said, nodding to Munch to reassure him.
‘Maiken? OK, Maiken,’ Munch said. ‘Where is Karen?’
‘Oh no, no,’ Maiken said, rocking back and forth on her chair.
‘Munch?’ Anette said, but he took no notice of her.
‘I need to know where Karen is, do you understand? I have to know where she is, now!’
Munch leaned forwards and grabbed the skinny woman’s shoulders. Maiken Storberget reacted intuitively and covered her face with her hands.
‘No, no, no.’
‘Munch,’ Anette warned him.
‘Where is Karen?’ Munch shouted, shaking the frail woman.
‘Munch!’ Anette screamed.
‘Where is Karen!!’
Munch was shaking her violently now. Anette was about to get up, but Curry beat her to it. The stocky police officer put his strong arms around Munch and guided him out of the interview room.
‘Are you all right, Maiken,’ Anette said when they were alone once more.
The emaciated woman looked up at her with terrified eyes and nodded softly.
‘I just need a word with the other two, and then I’ll be back, OK?’
Maiken Storberget nodded again.
‘And, listen.’
Maiken looked up at her.
‘Yes?’
‘It will be all right. I believe you.’
Maiken wiped away a tear and nodded feebly.
‘Thank you so much.’
Anette smiled, placed her hand on her shoulder and left the room.
‘What do you think you’re doing, Munch?’
Outside in the corridor, Curry still had Munch in a tight hold.
‘Sorry,’ Munch babbled. ‘She has Marion. Karen. She has my granddaughter. She has Marion.’
‘Calm down,’ Curry said.
‘Find a cell for Maiken,’ Anette said calmly. ‘I’ll deal with Holger.’
Curry nodded reluctantly and released his hold on the light brown duffel coat. He returned to the interview room and left the two of them alone in the corridor.
‘Are you OK, Holger?’ Anette said, putting her hand on her boss’s shoulder.
‘She has my granddaughter,’ Munch said again.
‘Who is Karen?’ Anette said, still calm.
‘She works at the care home,’ Munch groaned. ‘She has my granddaughter, Anette. My granddaughter.’
‘We’ll find her,’ Anette said, as her mobile rang.
‘Anette speakin
g.’
‘Get me Holger,’ said a breathless Gabriel Mørk.
She handed the mobile to Munch.
‘Yes?’
Munch got a short message and ended the call almost immediately.
‘The Kiese film. We have the GPS coordinates. Take Curry with you, OK?’
Munch ran down the corridor without waiting for an answer.
Chapter 79
Mia Krüger awoke to the sound of what she presumed must be seagulls. She was back on her island. In the house she had bought to be alone. To get away from people. To get away from herself. She had self-medicated almost to death. The sea. The air. The birds. The calm. She was going to join Sigrid. It was too hard to be alone. When your whole family is gone. Dead. It was too hard not to have someone who understands. Sigrid had always understood. Lovely, beautiful, adorable Sigrid. Mia had never needed to say anything. I understand, Mia. Without even opening her mouth. Her lovely, warm eyes behind the blonde hair.
Now she was alone. No comfort. No peace. Just this house and the seagulls. Tough, intelligent, one-in-a-million Mia Krüger, Mia Moonbeam, the Native American with the sparkling blue eyes, one of Norway’s best murder detectives. Reduced to an exhausted eccentric on a remote island.
Mia’s mouth felt dry. She tried to open her eyes, but it was heavy going. A slow-motion transition from dream to reality with music in the background. A radio. Then the music stopped. She tried to open her eyes again, but her eyelids were stuck, and it wasn’t just her eyelids, it was all of her; she couldn’t move. Mia slipped quietly back into her dream Ö the coffee was brewing, the sound of the steamer in her kitchen on Hitra.
‘Hello, Mia?’
Mia Krüger opened here eyes to find Karen Nylund standing in front of her. The strawberry-blonde woman smiled and held up a bottle of water.
‘Would you like something to drink? I imagine you must be terribly thirsty?’
Mia suddenly remembered what had happened. Her body jerked automatically, trying to free itself. Something was covering her mouth. Her hands were taped to a chair. Her legs. Her legs as well. Taped down. The movements were instinctive: they came from her body, not from her brain, muscular panic; but it was futile. All she could move was her head.
‘You’re very sweet, you really are,’ Karen laughed, waving the water bottle in front of her. ‘Do you intend to go on like that? It’s fun to watch, so don’t let me stop you.’
