Read Blessed Are Those Who Thirst for Free Online

Three seconds later he presented himself at her door, wagging his tail.
    “Should I get a car?”
    She rose to her feet, smiling broadly, and threw a black crash helmet in his direction. He caught it with an even broader smile.
    “Ace!”
    Hanne Wilhelmsen shook her head.
    “Cool, Erik. Not ace, cool.”
    *   *   *
    The building was probably from the turn of the century. It was situated in the west end and had been renovated with great care. Quite the opposite of the looming apartment blocks to the east, screeching at each other in lilac and pink and other colors hardly even invented when the buildings were new. This apartment block was pearl gray. The windows and doors had a border of dark blue, and the refurbishment must have been fairly recent.
    Hanne Wilhelmsen parked her bike on the sidewalk. Erik the Red hopped off before her in a flurry of excitement and perspiration.
    “Can we take a detour on the road home?”
    “We’ll see.”
    The doorbell at the entrance had two columns with five names in each. On the first floor lived K. Håverstad, sensible and gender neutral. The precaution hadn’t helped her greatly. On the ground floor, someone must have moved in recently. The corresponding nameplate had not been inserted behind glass in accordance with the regulations like the others, but instead stuck on with a piece of tape. An exotic-sounding name, the only one in the entire block giving any indication of foreign origins. Detective Inspector Wilhelmsen rang the doorbell of the neighbor living across the landing from K. Håverstad.
    “Hello?”
    The voice belonged to a man. An extremely old man.
    She introduced herself. The man seemed overjoyed to receive visitors and kept his finger on the door-release button until they were well on their way upstairs. When they reached the first floor, he was standing there to greet them with outstretched hands and a big smile, as though they were arriving for a party.
    “Come in, come in,” he wheezed, holding the door wide open.
    He had to be almost ninety and barely more than five foot three. His back was hunched, making it essential to sit before they had any hope of eye contact.
    The sun-drenched living room was clean and tidy, and dominated by two enormous birdcages. A large colorful parrot was sitting in each cage, making an infernal racket. There were green houseplants everywhere, and old paintings with massive gilt frames hung on the walls. The brick-hard settee was uncomfortable. Erik, not quite sure what to do, remained standing beside one of the parrots.
    “Just a moment, and I’ll make some coffee!”
    The old man was over the moon. Hanne tried to ward off the coffee, but it was no use. Porcelain cups and a dainty stemmed cake dish were placed in front of them. Once bitten, twice shy:she said no thanks to the cakes but ventured a half cup of coffee. Police Constable Erik was not so experienced and helped himself with gusto. One bite was enough. A perplexed expression spread across his eyes, and he looked around in desperation for a place to get rid of the three slices he had lavished on his own plate. Unable to find any way out, he spent the remainder of the visit trying to force down the pieces of cake.
    “You may know why we’re here?”
    The man didn’t reply to the detective inspector’s question, instead simply smiling, trying to palm her off with a slice of marzipan cake.
    “We’re from the police,” she said, louder this time.
    “The police, yes.”
    He was smirking.
    “The police. Nice young folk. Nice girl.”
    The old fogey’s hand, wrinkled and dry as dust, had surprisingly soft skin, and he stroked the back of her hand several times. Calmly, she took his hand and met his gaze. His eyes were light blue, so pale they almost merged into the whites of his eyeballs. His eyebrows were ferocious, raised in an optimistic curve where the hairs were longest, in the middle. They looked like little horns. A pleasant and kindly disposed, diminutive