The Last Fix (21 page)

    'Did
you meet Katrine Bratterud in Oslo city centre after getting out of the taxi?'

    'Katrine?
In the city centre?'

    'Answer
the question.'

    'No,
I didn't meet her.'

    'Did
you see her?'

    'No.'

    'Let
us imagine what you have said now is not true,' Gunnarstranda said gently.
'Let's say you met her in Aker Brygge that night…'

    'I
certainly did not!'

    'Let
me finish,' snapped Gunnarstranda. 'We know that you tried it on with her at
the party. We know you took a taxi to the City Hall square. We know you
regarded her as another screw. That's your word. Let's imagine you followed
her, repeated your advances, she resisted and you found some string to tie
round her neck to make her more compliant…'

    The
policeman's eyes flashed white at Gerhardsen who was cowering in his chair.

    'You're
barking up the wrong tree,' he said at last.

    'So
tell me what happened!'

    'I
had a party at home. I was host to lots of nice people. I went to the centre to
dance and have a good time…'

    'Not
to look for another screw?'

    'No.'

    'Can
you prove what time you took the company's Daihatsu that night?'

    Gerhardsen
lowered his head to think. 'No, I don't believe I can. It's a normal garage in
a basement you open with a key, and I have no idea if anyone saw me…'

    'Can
you prove what time you left Smuget?'

    'I
don't know. Someone must have seen me.'

    'There
was no one in your group who spoke to you before you left?'

    'No.'

    'But
that's very strange, isn't it?'

    'You
might think that, but…'

    'But
what?'

    'I
don't think so.'

    'Do
you know if any of the guests at the party that night had a score to settle
with Katrine?'

    'I
cannot imagine that.'

    'What
about your wife?'

    'Annabeth?
What would she have against Katrine?'

    'She
might be jealous,'

    Gerhardsen
angled his head. 'Yes… well… but not jealous in that way.'

    'In
which way was she jealous?'

    Gerhardsen
heaved a weary sigh. 'Listen,' he began, raising his palms as if in an attempt
to calm troubled minds. 'Listen,' he repeated. 'I was forced to tell Annaheth
about my relationship with Katrine. There was no alternative. When Katrine started
treatment it was only a question of time before she said something about me to
someone at the centre. I had to pre-empt her - not with everyone, of course -
but with Annabeth. I couldn't walk in dread day in day out that

    'When
did you confess to your wife?'

    'I
don't remember.'

    'A
long time afterwards?'

    'Well…
a while. I told her when it was clear that Katrine was going to stay at
Vinterhagen and had stopped doing bunks.'

    'So
it's a number of years since you told her?'

    'Yes.'

    'So
your wife has treated Katrine for several years knowing that you paid for her
services as a prostitute?'

    'Yes.'
Gerhardsen seemed tired.

    The
two policemen exchanged glances. Frølich cleared his throat and raised
his eyebrows as a signal to his boss, who nodded in return. 'Do you think this
affected the relationship between the two of them?' Frølich asked
cautiously.

    'Annabeth
is very professional,' Gerhardsen answered. 'With patients she was
professional, but this matter triggered a crisis in our marriage of course.'
'What sort of relationship did the two of them have? Was it warm?'

    'No,
but I don't think that had anything to do with me. A lot of water has passed
under the bridge since I told her, you might say. The reason the relationship
between Annabeth and Katrine was not warm was more to do with chemistry.'

    'But
you just said your confession triggered a marital crisis.'

    'Yes,
but that was between Annabeth and me.'

    'Nevertheless
it was Katrine who caused the crisis. It would be surprising if your wife did
not take out her emotional response on her, wouldn't it?'

    'It
may sound strange but I don't think she bore a grudge against Katrine.'

    'Are
you on first-name terms with all the patients at Vinterhagen?' Frølich
interjected.

    'Heaven
forfend, no.'

    'Why
Katrine?'

    'She'd
been there for quite a few years. She was a success. She was rehabilitated.
That's quite an event of course.'

    'But
that doesn't make it natural for you to be on first-name terms with her.'

    Gerhardsen
sighed. 'She was a special patient for 'So you made advances during the years
she was there.'

    'No,'
Gerhardsen said in desperation. 'But this girl had a position of trust. I read
reports, I interviewed her…'

    Gunnarstranda
broke in:'… without your pasts as punter and prostitute colouring the
situation?'

    'Yes.
How much more are you going to hassle me about this?'

    'Until
we find out something important we can use,' Gunnarstranda said, taking out his
chewing gum, grimacing at it and flicking it into the wastepaper basket beside
Gerhardsen's right leg. 'Could your wife have left the party that night?'

    Gerhardsen
stared at him in silence.

    'Come
on, answer the question.'

    'For
how long?'

    'For
an hour.'

    'I
doubt that very much.'

    'Why
do you doubt it?'

    'Because
she would have been missed by the guests at the party. Annabeth loves having
this kind of get-together. She loves being at the centre of things and she was
the one who sent out the invitations. Her leaving the house while there were
still guests would have been inconceivable.' 'Were there any others who went
missing for shorter periods?'

    Gerhardsen
deliberated. 'It's possible,' he said at length. 'But who…?' He shook his head.
'You'll have to ask Annabeth. As I said I wasn't there for a few hours.'

    'Did
anyone else at the party have a grudge against Katrine?'

    'I
don't know anyone who did.'

    'But
now you're contradicting yourself,' Gunnarstranda said with a smile.

    'I
certainly am not.'

    'You
claimed just now that Katrine had been arguing with her boyfriend.'

    'But
I don't suppose he would have killed her. My goodness, I can assure you, such a
decent man

    'What
were they arguing about?'

    'No
idea.'

    'So
you didn't see an argument?'

    'No,
but… it was more that they weren't speaking. I could sense an atmosphere.'

    'You
said they were having a huge row.'

    'I
retracted that.'

    'Has
it occurred to you they may have been arguing because of you?' Gunnarstranda
asked.

    'Me?'

    'You
had just tried it on with her. Perhaps he was jealous?'

    'He
wouldn't have been able to hide that from me when we took the taxi to town. The
atmosphere in the car was terrific.'

    'He
may have taken his anger out on Katrine,' Frølich said. 'Have you
thought about that?'

    Gerhardsen
puffed out his cheeks and closed his eyes. His brow was sweaty. 'No,' he said,
his eyes still closed. 'I didn't think about that. Is there going to be any
more of this?'

    Frølich
sent an enquiring look to his boss who waved his hand in a deprecatory manner.
'Not for the time being,' Frølich said. 'But we will contact you to
clear up some of the points in your statement.'

    'Surprise,
surprise,' Gerhardsen said, getting up.

    The
two policemen sat staring at the walls after Gerhardsen had gone. Gunnarstranda
produced a box of matches and tried to make a toothpick from a match.

    'Bl-oo-dy
hell.'

    'Yes,
so much crap you need a spade,' Gunnarstranda replied, fiddling with his
match-cum-toothpick. 'Geo- Invest, what's that?'

    'Offshore,'
Frølich said. 'Some oil guff to do with arbitration - it's the kind of
job you need to have trained for to understand what it involves.'

    'Have
we got any interviews this evening?'

    'Eidesen
- the boyfriend.' Frølich flicked through the blank sheets of paper on
his desk. 'What do you think?' he asked. 'Could it have been Gerhardsen - or
his missus?'

    Gunnarstranda
shrugged. 'There's no doubt he must have been in real torment when she turned
up at the centre for the second time.'

    'Do
you think he's lying?'

    'Why
should he lie? The whole prostitute business is very delicate, isn't it? He
must have known or assumed our girl would have confided in someone and that in
some way or other we would find out about his blunder. That's why he takes the
plunge and admits everything here. It suggests he has nothing to hide as far as
the murder is concerned.'

    'But
his wife?'

    Gunnarstranda's
face distorted - he seemed to be in great pain. 'Mmm,' he mumbled. 'But why
wait for so many years?'

    'Might
have been the last straw that night. Kramer said Gerhardsen had been molesting
Katrine B that night at the party. His wife might have noticed…'

    'Yes,
and then?'

    'She
sees it and loses her temper and… well… and so on.'

    'Yes.'
Gunnarstranda nodded. 'But Kramer claims he looked after Katrine until three in
the morning. We'll have to check the arrangements with this car Gerhardsen took
home. But it's an incredible coincidence that Henning and Katrine drive down to
the same part of town where the gang of party-goers leaves the taxi. It seems
quite extraordinary that none of them saw any of the others!'

    'Henning
and Katrine went to McDonald's in Aker Brygge. The others are on the other side
of the City Hall square outside Smuget. They wouldn't necessarily have seen
each other.'

    'But
if they did… ' Gunnarstranda said with a meaningful look. 'Gerhardsen and/or
Ole Eidesen see Katrine in a clinch with Henning Kramer…'

    'Gerhardsen
is the only one with access to a car,' Frølich added. 'Kramer claimed
there had been a car following them on to Ingierstrand beach.'

    Gunnarstranda
flicked the tiny cigarette end into the long-necked ashtray as he heard the
knock at the door.

    'Come
in,' he shouted and picked up the photograph attached with a paper clip to the
file on the table.

    Frølich
came in. 'You saw it?' He nodded towards the picture the inspector was holding
between his fingers. 'The travel agency lady came up trumps. She named the
thug.'

    'Raymond
Skau.' Gunnarstranda pulled a face as if the name had a sour taste. 'Sounds like
a character from the Olsen gang films.'

    'That's
his name anyway,' Frølich said. 'The lady's a hundred per cent positive.
This guy visited Katrine in the travel bureau the Saturday she was killed.'

    Gunnarstranda
studied the photograph again. 'Never seen him,' he mumbled and as he put it
back he felt his fingers begin to tremble.
^v
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