‘As you’re all aware, a woman was found dead in a tent on Ekeberg Common. We received a call at 6.09 a.m. The body was discovered by an elderly man out walking his dog. The victim is a 23-year-old woman from Slemdal and her name is Henriette Hagerup.’
Pens scratch against paper. Nokleby nods to Gjerstad who moves closer to the table and the microphone. He coughs.
‘We’re treating her death as murder. No arrests have been made yet. At this point in the investigation there’s very little we can tell you about what was found at the crime scene and any leads we may be following up, but we can say that this murder was particularly brutal.’
Henning notes down the word ‘brutal’. In media and police speak ‘brutal’ means there is information the press shouldn’t report. It’s to do with protecting the public against knowing what the crackpots out there are capable of. And fair enough: why should relatives have every detail of how their child, brother, sister or parents were killed splashed across the papers for all to see? But that doesn’t mean the press can’t be told.
Apart from that, the press conference has little to offer. Not that Henning had expected much. There can be no suspects while the motive for the killing is unknown, and the police are still securing evidence at the crime scene. It’s too early in the investigation to say if the evidence will give the police something to go on.
And blah-blah-blah.
Chief Inspector Gjerstad’s briefing, if you can call it that, is over in ten minutes. As usual, there is time allowed for questions afterwards and, as usual, reporters compete to get their question in first. Henning shakes his head at this every time. The First Question is a constant source of envious looks and congratulatory slaps on the back in editorial offices everywhere. A reporter is regarded as one hell of a guy, by himself and by others, if he can make his voice heard first.
Henning has never seen the point of this and assumes it’s about penis envy. TV2’s Guri Palme wins this time. She doesn’t have a penis, but she is a pretty blonde girl who has turned all the disadvantages that that entails to her benefit. She has surprised everyone by being ambitious and clever, and is successfully climbing the journalistic ladder.
‘What can you tell us of the circumstances surrounding the killing? In your introduction, Chief Inspector Gjerstad, you mentioned that the murder was unusually brutal. What do you mean?’
Take your places: ready, steady -
‘I can’t comment at this time, nor would I want to,’ Gjerstad says.
‘Can you tell us anything about the victim?’
‘We know that the victim was a student at Westerdal School of Communication. She had nearly completed her second year, and she was regarded as highly talented.’
‘What did she study?’
‘Film and television. She wanted to be a screenwriter.’
Three questions are all that Guri Palme gets and NRK takes over the baton. Henning detects disappointment in the journalist’s eye at coming second, though he can only see him from the back. But it is Jorn Bendiksen from NRK who takes them all by surprise.
‘It’s rumoured to be an honour killing?’
Journalists. Always ready with a statement that sounds like a question. Assistant Commissioner Nokleby shakes her head.
‘No comment.’
‘Can you confirm that the victim had been flogged?’
Nokleby looks at Bendiksen before glancing at Gjerstad. Henning smiles to himself. There’s a leak, he concludes. And the police know it. Still, Nokleby remains professional.
‘No comment.’
No comment.
You will hear that ten times, at least, during a police press conference, especially at the early stages of the investigation. It is known as ‘tactical considerations’. The strategy is to give everyone, the killer included, as little information as possible about any leads the police are pursuing or any evidence they may have found, so they have time to gather all the evidence needed to build a case.
Nokleby and Gjerstad know they are playing a game now. NRK has picked up two important pieces in The Great Jigsaw: honour killing and flogging. Bendiksen would never have made such allegations at the press conference without knowing that they are true, or pretty close. Nokleby straightens her glasses. Gjerstad looks more uncomfortable now. Brogeland, who so far hasn’t uttered a single word, shifts in his chair to find a more comfortable position.
It happens all the time. Reporters know more, much more, than the police would like them to, and, in many cases, they hinder the investigation. It is a complex dance for two; each partner depending on the other for results. Plus, on the journalists’ side there is rivalry, gruelling competition with everyone covering the same case. On-line newspapers publish at a speed that limits the lifespan of the story and it’s always about finding the Next Big Thing. It puts increasing pressure on the police and forces them to spend more time dealing with the press than doing the job they are meant to do.
Nokleby ends the questions once P4, VG and Aftenposten have had their fill, but she can’t get back to work yet. TV and radio stations need their own interviews to give their viewers or listeners the illusion of exclusivity; the questions are repeated and Nokleby has another chance to say -
Exactly.
It is the same performance every time. Everyone knows that proper journalistic work starts after the press conference.
Henning decides to find Iver Gundersen and agree the best way to cover this story.
After all, he is supposed to be working again.
And the very idea of that strikes him as bizarre.
Chapter 9
The reporters try to squeeze in more questions, but are brusquely dismissed by the uniformed trio and the reporters file out. Henning is hemmed in by people he doesn’t want to be near, someone shoves him in the back, he bumps into a woman in front of him, he mutters an apology and desperately longs for more space and greater distances.
They spill out into the foyer and he looks for Iver Gundersen. This would have been easier, if he knew what Gundersen looked like; there are at least fifty journalists present. Henning decides to find Vidar from NTB and ask him, but he doesn’t have time to do anything before Nora appears in his field of vision. And he in hers.
He stops. They can’t avoid talking to each other now.
He takes a tentative step towards her, she mimics him. They stop a few metres apart. Eyes meet eyes. All he can see is a face which contains a multitude of sentences that have never been uttered.
‘Hi, Henning.’
Her voice is like a blast of icy wind. The ‘hi’ rises in pitch and the ‘Henning’ drops. He senses she is speaking to a creature that has done her a severe injustice, but to whom she is forced to relate. He says ‘hi’ to her. She hasn’t changed, but he spots her grief just behind her eyelids, from where it could erupt at any moment.
Nora is shorter than most women and she tries to compensate for this by wearing high heels. She has short hair. Not like a boy, it is not ultra-short at the back, but her fringe is high up her forehead. She used to have long hair, but the short style suits her. The last time he saw her, she was ashen. Now her skin and her face glow. He suspects it might have something to do with Corduroy. The glow suits her.
Christ, how it suits her.
Many expressions inhabit Nora’s face. When she is frightened, she opens her mouth, her teeth show and she closes her eyes slightly. When she is angry, she raises her eyebrows, she frowns and her lips narrow. And when she smiles, her whole face explodes, it widens, and you have to smile with her. Change is weird, he thinks. Once, he couldn’t imagine life without her. Now, it would be hard to live with her.
‘You’re here?’ he says, failing to disguise his nerves which choke him.
