The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

knows where, and his generation has never heard of the possibility of catching a bus.’
‘What’s wrong with Jonas?’ Harry took out the notepad he never wrote in, but from experience it
seemed to focus people’s minds.
‘Nothing. Standard check-up, I assume.’ Becker dismissed it with an irritated flick of the hand.
‘And I assume you’re here for a different reason?’
‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘I want to know where you were yesterday afternoon and evening.’
‘What?’
‘Just routine, Becker.’
‘Has this anything to do with with ?’ Becker nodded towards the Dagbladet newspaper lying on
top of a pile of papers.
‘We don’t know,’ Harry said. ‘Just answer me, please.’
‘Tell me, are you all out of your minds?’
Harry looked at his watch without answering.
Becker groaned. ‘Alright, I do want to help you. Last night I sat here working on an article about
wavelengths of hydrogen, which I hope to have published.’
‘Any colleagues who can vouch for you?’
‘The reason that Norwegian research contributes so little to the world is that the self-satisfaction of
Norwegian academics is surpassed only by their indolence. I was, as usual, utterly on my own.’
‘And Jonas?’
‘He made himself some food and sat watching TV until I got home.’
‘Which was when?’
‘Just past nine, I think.’
‘Mm.’ Harry pretended to take notes. ‘Have you been through Birte’s things?’
‘Yes.’
‘Found anything?’
Filip Becker stroked the corner of his mouth with one finger and shook his head. Harry held his
gaze, using the silence as leverage. But Becker had shut up shop.
‘Thank you for your help,’ Harry said, stuffing his notepad into his jacket pocket and getting up.
‘I’ll tell Jonas he can come in.’
‘Wait a moment please.’