The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

disappearing.’
For the first time that evening Støp earned neither laughter nor applause. Oda thought Støp should
have known that fundamentally anti-royalist comments never did.
Undaunted, Bosse broke the silence by introducing the pop star who was to talk about her recent
onstage breakdown and then conclude the show by singing the single that would be released on
Monday.
‘What the hell was that?’ asked Gubbe, the producer, who had taken up a position directly behind
Oda.
‘Perhaps he isn’t sober after all,’ Oda said.
‘My God, he’s a bloody policeman!’
At that moment Oda remembered he was hers. Her scoop. ‘But, Jesus, can he deliver the goods.’
The producer didn’t answer.
The pop star talked about psychological problems, explained that they were inherited, and Oda
looked at her watch. Forty seconds. This was too serious for a Friday night. Forty-three. Bosse
interrupted after forty-six.
‘What about you, Arve?’ Bosse was usually on first-name terms with the main guest by the end of
the broadcast. ‘Ever experienced madness or a serious hereditary illness?’
Støp smiled. ‘No, Bosse, I haven’t. Unless you count a craving for total freedom as an illness. In
fact, it’s a family weakness.’
Bosse had come to round-up time, now he just had to sign off with the other guests before
introducing the song. Final few words from the psychologist about the ludic in life. And then:
‘And as the Snowman’s no longer with us I suppose you’ll have time to play for a couple of days,
Harry?’
‘No,’ Harry said. He had slumped so far down into his chair that his long legs almost reached over
to the pop star. ‘The Snowman hasn’t been caught.’
Bosse frowned, smiled and waited for him to go on, waited for the punchline. Oda hoped to God it
was better than his opening line promised.
‘I never said Idar Vetlesen was the Snowman,’ Harry said. ‘On the contrary. Everything points to
the Snowman still being at large.’
Bosse gave a little chuckle. It was the laugh he used to smooth over a guest’s hapless attempt to be
funny.
‘I hope for the sake of my wife’s beauty sleep that you’re joking now,’ Bosse said mischievously.
‘No,’ Harry said. ‘I’m not.’