The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

‘The head,’ Harry repeated. ‘It belongs to Sylvia Ottersen.’
The other end went quiet.
Harry told Holm to follow the footprints and rang off.
Then he crouched against a tree, buttoned his coat right up and switched off the torch to save the
battery while he waited. Thinking he had almost forgotten what it tasted like, the darkness.
Part Two
10
DAY 4.
Chalk.
IT WAS HALF PAST THREE IN THE MORNING AND H ARRY WAS exhausted as he finally
unlocked the door to his flat. He undressed and went straight into the shower. Tried not to think as
he let the burning jets of water numb his skin, massage his stiff muscles and thaw his frozen body.
They had spoken to Rolf Ottersen, but the formal questioning would have to wait until the morning.
At Sollihøgda they had quickly wrapped up the door-to-door inquiries with the neighbours; there
weren’t so many to ask. But the crime scene officers and the dogs were still at work and would be
the whole night. They had a brief window of time before the evidence would become contaminated,
melted or covered by snow. He turned off the shower. The air was grey with steam, and when he
wiped the mirror a new layer of condensation immediately settled. It distorted his face and blurred
the contours of his naked body.
Harry was cleaning his teeth when the telephone rang. ‘Harry.’
‘Stormann, the mould man.’
‘You’re up late,’ Harry said in surprise.
‘Reckoned you were at work.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was on the late-night news. Woman in Sollihøgda. Saw you in the background. I’ve got the
results back.’
‘And?’
‘You’ve got fungus. A hungry bugger, too. Aspergillus versicolor.’
‘Which means?’
‘That it can be any colour. If and when it’s seen. Apart from that, it means I’ll have to take down
more of your walls.’