The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

‘Then I would cosy up to the detective before committing the murder,’ Gert Rafto said. ‘And then,
after the murder, I would kill him, too.’
‘Funny,’ Mathias said. ‘That’s just what I was thinking.’
In the weeks that followed, Mathias made quite a few house calls to Gert Rafto. He recovered
quickly and they talked often and at length about illness, lifestyle and death, and about the only two
things Gert Rafto loved on this earth: his daughter Katrine who, incomprehensibly, returned his
love, and the little cabin on Finnøy which was the one place he could be sure of finding peace.
Mostly, though, they talked about the murder cases Gert Rafto had solved. About the triumphs. And
Mathias encouraged him, told him the fight against alcohol could be won, he could celebrate new
triumphs so long as he kept off the bottle.
And by the time late autumn came to Bergen with even shorter days and even longer showers
Mathias had his plan ready.
One morning he called Laila Aasen at home.
He gave his name, and she listened in silence as he explained the reason for his call. The daughter’s
blood sample had thrown up new findings and he now knew that Bastian Aasen was not the child’s
biological father. It was important that he be given a blood sample by the real father. This would of
necessity mean that the daughter and Bastian would be apprised of the relationship. Would she give
her consent?
Mathias waited, allowing this to sink in.
Then he said that if she considered it important that the matter remained behind closed doors, he
would still like to help, but it would have to be done ‘off the record’.
‘Off the record?’ she repeated with the apathy of someone in shock.
‘As a doctor I’m bound to observe ethical rules regarding candour to the patient, here, your
daughter. But I’m researching syndromes and am therefore particularly interested in following up
her case. If, with the utmost discretion, you could meet me this afternoon ’
‘Yes,’ she whispered in a tremulous voice. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Good. Catch the last cable car of the day to the top of Ulriken. There we will be undisturbed and
can walk back down. I hope you appreciate what I’m risking, and please don’t mention this meeting
to a living soul.’
‘Of course not! Trust me.’
He was still holding the receiver to his ear after she had rung off. With his lips to the grey plastic,
he whispered: ‘And why should anyone trust you, you little whore?’
It was only when she was lying in the snow with a scalpel to her throat that Laila Aasen admitted
she had told a friend she was going to meet him. Because in fact they had originally had a dinner
date. But she’d only mentioned his Christian name and not why they were meeting.
‘Why did you say anything at all?’