The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

‘But he has made a guess?’
‘Somewhere between five and seven yesterday evening.’
‘Mm. Before the TV news announcement about him. You saw the lock, did you?’
Holm nodded. ‘Standard Yale. It was locked when the cleaning lady arrived. I saw you looking at
the boots. I’ve checked the prints. I’m pretty sure they’re identical to the prints we’ve got from
Sollihøgda.’
Harry studied the pattern on the sole. ‘So you think this is our man, do you?’
‘I would reckon so, yes.’
Harry nodded, deep in thought. ‘Do you know if Vetlesen was left-handed?’
‘Would doubt it. As you can see, he’s holding the syringe in his right hand.’
Harry nodded. ‘So he is. Check anyway.’
Harry had never really managed to experience a sense of pleasure when, one day, cases he was
working on reached a conclusion, were solved, were over. For as long as the case was under
investigation this was his aim, but once it was achieved, he only knew that he hadn’t arrived at his
journey’s end. Or that this was not the end he had imagined. Or that it had shifted, he had changed
or Christ knows what. The thing was, he felt empty, success did not taste as promised, catching the
guilty party always came loaded with the question: So what?
It was seven in the evening, witnesses had been questioned, forensic evidence collected, a press
conference held and in the Crime Squad corridors there was a burgeoning party atmosphere. Hagen
had ordered cakes and beer and summoned Lepsvik’s and Harry’s teams to some selfcongratulation
in K1.
Harry sat in a chair eyeing a huge piece of cake someone had placed in his lap. He listened to
Hagen speaking, the laughter and the applause. Someone nudged him in the back as they passed,
but most left him in peace. There a buzz of conversation around him.
‘The bastard was a bad loser. Chickened out when he knew we had him.’
‘Cheated us.’
‘Us? Do you mean that you Lepsvik lot—?’
‘If we’d caught him alive, the court would have declared him insane and –’
‘We should be happy. After all, we didn’t have any conclusive evidence, just circumstantial.’
Espen Lepsvik’s voice boomed from the other side of the room. ‘OK, folks, shut up! A motion has
been put forward, and passed, that we meet at Fenris Bar at eight to get seriously drunk. And that’s
an order. OK?’
Loud cheering.