The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

‘Thank you,’ Harry said.
After Becker had left, Harry was still sitting there, trying to decide if the picture was hanging
straight, not noticing that the water had boiled, the kettle had switched itself off and the little red
eye under the on button was slowly dying.
23
DAY 19.
Mosaic.
THE THICK, FLUFFY CLOUDS CONCEALED THE DAWN AS Harry entered the corridor on
the sixth floor of the high-rise in Frogner. Tresko had left his bedsit door ajar, and when Harry
entered, Tresko had his feet up on the coffee table, his arse on the sofa and the remote control in his
left hand. The images that flicked backwards across the screen dissolved into digital mosaic.
‘Don’t want a beer then?’ Tresko repeated, lifting his half-empty bottle. ‘It’s Saturday.’
Harry thought he could discern bacterial gases in the air. Both ashtrays were full of cigarette ends.
‘No thanks,’ Harry said, taking a seat. ‘Well?’
‘Well, I’ve just had one night on it,’ Tresko said, stopping the DVD player. ‘It usually takes me a
couple of days.’
‘This person’s not a pro poker player,’ Harry said.
‘Don’t be too sure,’ Tresko said and took a swig from the bottle. ‘He bluffs a lot better than most
card players. This is the place where you ask him the question you reckoned he would answer with
a lie, isn’t it.’
Tresko pressed play and Harry saw himself in the TV studio. He was wearing a pinstriped suit
jacket, a Swedish brand, slightly too tight. A black T-shirt that was a present from Rakel. Diesel
jeans and Dr Martens boots. He was sitting in a strangely uncomfortable position, as if the chair had
nails at the back. The question sounded hollow through the TV speakers. ‘Do you invite her for a bit
of extra-curricular in your hotel room?’
‘No, I don’t think I would do that,’ Støp answered, but froze as Tresko pressed the pause button.
‘And there you know he’s lying?’ Tresko asked.
‘Yup,’ Harry answered. ‘He fucked a friend of Rakel’s. Women don’t usually like to boast. What
can you see?’
‘If I ran this on the computer I could enlarge the eyes, but I don’t need to. You can see the pupils
have dilated.’ Tresko pointed an index finger with a chewed nail at the screen. ‘That’s the classic
sign of stress. And look at the nostrils. Can you see they’ve flared a tiny bit? We do that when we’re
stressed and the brain needs more oxygen. But that doesn’t mean he’s lying; many people get
stressed even when they’re telling the truth. Or don’t get stressed when lying. You can see, for
example, that his hands are still.’