The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

Odin Nakken heaved a sigh of resignation.
Arve Støp stared into the darkness of the mask wondering what she was doing. She had dragged
him into the bathroom by the handcuffs, pressed what she claimed was a revolver against his ribs
and ordered him into the bath. Where was she? He held his breath and heard his heart and a
crackling electric hum. Was one of the neon tubes in the bathroom on its way out? The blood from
his temple had reached the corner of his mouth; he could taste the sweet metallic tang with the tip of
his tongue.
‘Where were you the night Birte Becker went missing?’ Her voice came from over by the sink.
‘Here in my flat,’ Støp answered, trying to think. She had said she was from the police and then he
remembered where he had seen her before: in the curling hall.
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the night Sylvia Ottersen was killed?’
‘The same.’
‘Alone all evening without talking to anyone?’
‘Yes.’
‘So no alibi?’
‘I’m telling you I was here.’
‘Good.’
Good? thought Arve Støp. Why was it good that he didn’t have an alibi? What was it she wanted?
To force a confession out of him? And why did it sound as if the electric hum was getting louder as
she came closer?’
‘Lie down,’ she said.
He did as instructed and felt the cold bath enamel sting the skin of his back and thighs. His breath
had condensed on the inside of the mask, made it wet, made it even more difficult to breathe. Then
the voice was there again, close by now.
‘How do you want to die?’
Die? She was out of her mind. Insane. Stark raving mad. Or was she? He told himself to keep a
clear head; she was just trying to frighten him. Could Harry Hole be behind this? Could it be that he
had underestimated the drunken sot of a policeman? But his whole body was shaking now, shaking
so much that he could hear his Tag Heuer watch clink against the enamel, as if his body had
accepted what his brain still had not. He rubbed the back of his head against the bottom of the bath,
trying to straighten the pig mask so that he could see through the small holes. He was going to die.