‘I’m about to go to a meeting and I’ve got work to do. So if it’s not anything in particular, then — ’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Okay, spit it out.’
It takes Henning a moment to gather his thoughts.
‘There’s something I need to know.’
‘Yes, I imagined as much.’
‘Was there any e-mail correspondence between Henriette Hagerup and Yngve Foldvik in the time leading up to her murder?’
‘Why do you ask? Why do you need to know?’
‘I just do. Okay? I feel I’ve a certain right to know.’
‘Right?’
‘Yes. I’ve helped you quite a lot in this investigation.’
‘I know.’
Brogeland sighs deeply.
‘E-mails? I don’t know. Don’t remember. I’m too tired to remember things.’
‘For God’s sake, Bjarne, you can’t be; the son of one of your potential suspects has just died. I don’t know why you’re suddenly being an arsehole after everything I’ve done for you, but that’s fine. I don’t need to talk to you anyway.’
He is about to hang up, when Brogeland yawns.
‘Okay, sorry, I’m just so bloody tired. And Gjerstad, he — ’
More yawning.
‘What about Gjerstad?’
‘Oh, forget it. Yes, Hagerup e-mailed Yngve Foldvik several times and he replied.’ Brogeland says and exhales heavily.
‘Were any of the e-mails about the script?’
‘Yes, one of them. But not about the contents, only that she would send him the script when she had finished it.’
‘Do you remember roughly when that was?’
‘A while ago. I don’t remember the exact date.’
‘How about text messages? Have you found out who texted Henriette on the day she was killed? About the time she was with Marhoni?’
‘She received two or three texts during that period. One of them said “check your e-mail”.’
‘Who sent it?’
‘We don’t know. But we know that that text, like the e-mail with the photo, was also sent from Mozambique, from one of those anonymous sites.’
‘Right. Okay. Thank you.’
‘By the way, you need to come in for an interview today. Gjerstad lost his rag last night when I told him we had only spoken on the telephone.’
‘When?’
‘We’ll be interviewing Mahmoud Marhoni again at ten o’clock. Sometime after that. Why don’t we say 11 a.m., and see how the land lies around that time?’
‘I’ll try and make it.’
‘You have to.’
‘You said “the crime scene” a minute ago. Does that mean you’re treating Stefan’s death as suspicious?’
Brogeland groans.
‘I haven’t got time to talk to you. I’ve got to go. We can talk later.’
‘So you are treating his death as suspicious.’
‘I didn’t say that. And don’t you dare speculate about it in your newspaper either.’
‘I never speculate about suicide.’
‘No, okay. Talk to you later.’
Click. Henning stares into the distance. The police have found something, he thinks, or the absence of something is enough to make them suspicious. If not, Brogeland would have dismissed it categorically.
Chapter 58
Brogeland happens to meet Ella Sandland at the coffee machine.
‘Good morning,’ she says, without turning around.
Damn, she’s hot.
‘Good morning.’
Her hair looks as if she has just washed it. She smells discreetly of lavender. Or is it jasmine? He doesn’t remember her smelling of creams or soaps before. Scents suit her. Damn, how they suit her. He feels like eating her up, savouring her, slowly, with a spoon and sugar and whipped cream.
Brogeland is reminded of something Henning Juul said, when they met at Lompa. ‘And it wasn’t that blonde you can’t keep your eyes off?’
Is he really that obvious? And if Juul can see it, then surely Sandland can, too? He hopes so and, at the same time, doesn’t. Whether she has noticed or not, she is doing disappointingly little about it. Perhaps she’s just waiting for me to make the first move, he thinks. Perhaps she’s one of those.
‘Sleep well?’ she asks and pours herself a cup of coffee.
‘No.’
‘Me neither.’
She smiles briefly and offers him a cup. He nods.
‘Are Gjerstad and Nokleby here?’
‘No, they’ll be in later. Gjerstad said to start without him. The more theories we can examine before they get here, the better.’
‘Okay.’
They take their coffee cups and go to the meeting room. Emil Hagen and Fredrik Stang are already there. Hagen is flicking through Aftenposten, while Stang is staring at a board displaying the names of the victims and the people connected to them. It looks like one big muddle of names, lines, times, dates, arrows, bold lines and more arrows going back and forth. There is a timeline beginning with the murder of Henriette Hagerup.
Sandland and Brogeland sit down.
‘Good morning,’ they say in unison. Hagen and Stang straighten up.
‘So, where are we?’ Brogeland says. There is a tacit agreement that Brogeland is boss when the boss isn’t there.
‘Anette Skoppum never showed up at the party yesterday,’ Hagen begins and yawns. ‘I was there till just after one o’clock this morning.’
Brogeland picks up a pen and makes a note.
‘Any credit card or mobile activities?’
‘No. None. Her mobile has been switched off since yesterday afternoon.’
Brogeland nods, but doesn’t make a note.
‘Fredrik, you’re in touch with Operation Gangbuster. Any news about BBB?’
‘They know what the leader and some of the members are up to, but there are a lot of them. Something may be happening further down the food chain.’
‘Something always is.’
‘Yes, unfortunately they don’t have the resources to watch every gang member. Even the ones we know about. And there are other gangs in Oslo they need to keep an eye on as well. Nevertheless, I doubt that BBB would get up to anything now that they know we’re watching them.’
‘No trace of Yasser Shah?’
