'Well, in some countries gypsies punish thieves by cutting their fingers off,' Harry said. 'If they stole from gypsies, that is.'
'I think I've got a good print,' Beate said, wiping the sweat off her brow. 'Shall we cut him down?'
'No,' Harry said. 'As soon as we've had a look around, we'll tidy up after us and clear off. I saw a phone box in the main street. I'll phone the police anonymously from there and report the death. When we get to Oslo, you can phone the Brazilian police and have the medical report sent. I have no doubt he died of asphyxiation, but I want the time of death.'
'What about the door?'
'Not much we can do about that.'
'And your neck? The bandage is all red.'
'Forget it. My arm hurts more. I landed on it when I went through the door.'
'How bad is it?'
Harry gingerly raised his arm and grimaced. 'It's fine so long as I don't move it.'
'Think yourself lucky you haven't got the Setesdal Twitch.'
Two out of three in the room laughed, but their laughter quickly subsided.
On the way back to the hotel, Beate asked Harry if it all made sense to him.
'From a technical point of view, yes. Beyond that, I'll never get suicide to make sense.'
He flicked his cigarette away. It described a glowing arc in the almost tangible night. 'But that's me.'
29
Room 316
The window opened with a bang.
'Trond is travelling,' she trilled. Her bleached hair had obviously been given another dose of chemicals since their previous visit and her scalp shone through the devitalised hair. 'Have you been down south?'
Harry raised a tanned face and peered at her.
'In a way. Do you know where he is?'
'He's packing his car,' she said, pointing to the other side of the houses. 'I think he's going to travel, the poor thing.'
'Mm.'
Beate wanted to go, but Harry stayed put. 'You've lived here a long time, have you?' he asked.
'Oh yes. Thirty-two years.'
'You can probably remember Lev and Trond from the time they were small, can you?'
'Of course. They left their mark on Disengrenda.' She smiled and leaned against the frame of the window. 'Especially Lev. A real charmer. We always knew he would be dangerous for the ladies.'
'Dangerous, yes. Maybe you know the story about the man who fell from the footbridge?'
Her face darkened and she whispered in a tragic voice: 'Oh, yes. Dreadful business. I heard he was never able to walk properly again, the poor chap. His knees stiffened up. Can you imagine a child thinking up such a wicked trick?'
'Mm. He must have been a real wild child.'
'Wild child?' She shaded her eyes. 'I wouldn't exactly say that. He was a polite, well-brought-up boy. That was what was so shocking.'
'And everybody round here knew he'd done it?'
'Everybody. I saw him from this window. A red jacket heading off on his bike. I should have known there was something wrong when he came back. The lad's face was completely drained of colour.' She shuddered in the cold gust of wind. Then she pointed across the road.
Trond was walking towards them with his arms hanging down by his sides. He slowed down more and more until, in the end, he was hardly moving.
'It's Lev, isn't it,' he said on finally reaching them.
'Yes,' Harry said.
'Is he dead?'
From the corner of his eye he saw the gaping face in the window. 'Yes, he's dead.'
'Good,' said Trond. Then he bent over and hid his face in his hands.
Bjarne Mшller stood staring through the window with a concerned expression on his face when Harry peeked in through the half-open door. Harry tapped.
Mшller turned and brightened up. 'Oh, hi.'
'Here's the report, boss.' Harry tossed a green Manila wallet on his desk.
Mшller fell into his chair, managed after some exertion to heap his excessively long legs under the desk and put on his glasses.
'Aha,' he mumbled as he opened the wallet inscribed LIST OF DOCUMENTS. Inside there was a solitary piece of A4 paper.
'Didn't think you'd want to know all the ins and outs,' Harry said.
'If you say so, I'm sure you're right,' Mшller said, running his eyes over the generously spaced lines.
Harry looked over his boss's shoulder and out of the window. There was nothing to see, just thick damp mist which lay like a used nappy over the town. Mшller put down the piece of paper.
'So you just went there, someone told you where the man lived and you found the Expeditor hanging from a rope?'
'In broad outline, yes.'
Mшller shrugged his shoulders. 'Fine by me so long as we have watertight evidence that this is the man we've been looking for.'
'Weber checked the fingerprints this morning.'
'And?'
Harry sat down in the chair. 'They tally with those we found on the Coke bottle the robber was holding before he went into action.'
'Can we be sure it's the same bottle…?'
'Relax, boss. We've got the bottle and the man on the video. You just read in the report that we have a handwritten suicide note in which Lev Grette confesses, didn't you? We went to Disengrenda this morning and informed Trond Grette. We asked if we could borrow some of Lev's old schoolbooks from the loft and Beate took them to the Kripos handwriting expert. He says there's no doubt the suicide note was written by the same person.'
'Yes, yes, yes, I just wanted to be absolutely sure before we went public with this, Harry. It's front-page news, you know.'
'You should try to be a little happier, boss.' Harry got to his feet. 'We've just solved our biggest case for a good while. The place should be festooned with streamers and balloons.'
'I'm sure you're right,' Mшller sighed. He paused before asking, 'Why don't you look happier then?'
'I won't be happy until we solve the other case, you know…' Harry went towards the door. 'Halvorsen and I are clearing our desks today and we'll make a start on the Ellen Gjelten case tomorrow.'
He stopped in the doorway when Mшller cleared his throat. 'Yes, boss?'
'I was wondering how you found out Lev Grette was the Expeditor.'
'Well, the official version is that Beate recognised him on the video. Would you like to hear the unofficial one?'
