Read Beyond the Truth: Hanne Wilhelmsen Book Seven (A Hanne Wilhelmsen Novel) for Free Online Page B

where he was. But he was to hand in some work to the publishing house this morning – something important – so they sent a messenger round when he hadn’t turned up, as arranged. Since there was no reply, the messenger thought the man might be seriously ill, and after that it didn’t take more than a couple of hours to clarify the situation. Knut Sidensvans was the fourth victim in Eckersbergs gate.”
    “Clarify?” Billy T. reiterated. “We can hardly claim that the situation has been clarified—”
    “No. But it’s clearly an advantage to know who’s been murdered. Don’t you think?”
    Hanne stood up abruptly.
    “Three well-heeled folk from the salubrious west end, and an electrician who works for a publisher. I’m looking forward to finding out what these people had in common. I’m going back to headquarters. If there’s nothing further, Håkon?”
    “No. Keep me posted. And Hanne … I’m looking forward to Christmas Eve. That’s good of you to do the honors like that. The children are mad with excitement.”
    “Now you’ve let the cat out of the bag,” Billy T. grinned. “It was all meant to be a surprise party for Hanne. You weren’t supposed to breathe a word!”
    Håkon Sand looked in confusion from Hanne to Billy T.
    “But I … Karen didn’t say … Sorry. I’m really sorry.”
    “Quite all right,” Hanne said, keeping a straight face. “I knew about it. It’s okay. Of course I knew about it.”
    She turned on her heel and left the Public Prosecutor’s office. Before Billy T. had managed to collect his documents, keys and cellphone, Hanne had disappeared with Silje in tow. When he descended to the street at last, he discovered they had taken the car.
    This was the last Friday before Christmas and there wasn’t a taxi to be had. When he finally gave up his attempts to flag one down, he was shivering with cold.
    “ Bitch! ” he spluttered, and legged it instead.
    The young man, who had just left Police Inspector Erik Henriksen’s office when Hanne Wilhelmsen arrived on the second floor of police headquarters, was chewing gum as if his life depended on it. His trousers were three sizes too big. The neck of his sweater was damaged, the rib partly unraveled. His baseball cap was perched back-to-front on tufts of bleached hair. He looked like a young lad going through puberty, but to judge from his face, he was at least twenty-five. His nose was sharp. The bags under his eyes were outlined in dark blue, and his mouth had acquired a fixed ill-tempered grin that must have taken years to cultivate. He shot a cryptic look in Hanne’s direction, before padding toward the stairs without taking Erik Henriksen’s outstretched hand. The Police Inspector rolled his eyes and beckoned Hanne in.
    “The neighbor,” he said by way of explanation. “The one who lives above the Stahlbergs, diagonally opposite. Directly above Backe – the grumpy old man, that is.”
    “He surely doesn’t live there on his own?” Hanne asked doubtfully. “That young lad?”
    “Yes, he does. A dot.com guy. Lars Gregusson. A lot of money fell into his hands at the age of nineteen and he was sensible enough to invest it in real estate. Why someone like that wants to live in that mausoleum of a place in Eckersbergs gate is anyone’s guess, but anyway, he does.”
    “Is he of interest to us?” Hanne asked, helping herself unbidden to a large bottle of cola.
    “Hardly. But I’ll pull him in a couple of times, to make sure.”
    Erik Henriksen scratched his carrot-colored hair and reclaimed the bottle. He took a lengthy swig before replacing the lid.
    “He insists he wasn’t at home. That might well be true. This Mrs. …”
    Erik’s untidy appearance, with spiky hair and flapping shirt tail, contrasted oddly with the almost feminine sense of order in his surroundings. The numerous ring binders on his desk were arranged by color and held in place by brushed-steel bookends. On one side of a leather writing pad,