The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

‘Jesus,’ the policeman said.
Børre Hansen nodded.
‘What name does he sign in under?’
‘Don’t remember.’
‘But we’ll find it in the guest book, won’t we? And in the accounts?’
The back of Børre Hansen’s shirt was soaked with sweat under his shiny suit jacket. ‘They call him
Dr White. The women who ask for him, that is.’
‘Doctor?’
‘Nothing to do with me. He ’ Børre Hansen hesitated. He didn’t want to say any more than he had
to. On the other hand, he wanted to show a willingness to cooperate. And this was already a lost
customer. ‘He carries one of those big doctor’s bags with him. And always asks for extra towels.’
‘Oooh,’ said the woman. ‘Sounds dodgy. Have you seen any blood when you clean the room?’
Børre didn’t answer.
‘If you clean the room,’ the policeman corrected. ‘Well?’
Børre sighed. ‘Not much, not more than ’ He paused.
‘Than usual?’ the woman asked sarcastically.
‘I don’t think he hurts them,’ Børre Hansen hastened to say, and regretted it instantly.
‘Why not?’ the policeman snapped.
Børre shrugged. ‘They wouldn’t come back, I suppose.’
‘And it’s just women?’
Børre nodded. But the policeman must have noticed something. A nervous tautening of his neck
muscles, a little twitch in the bloodshot membrane of his eye.
‘Men?’ he asked.
Børre shook his head.
‘Boys?’ asked the policewoman who clearly scented the same as her colleague.
Børre Hansen shook his head again, but with that little, almost imperceptible delay that arises when
the brain has to choose between alternatives.
‘Children,’ said the policeman, lowering his forehead as if about to charge. ‘Has he had children
here?’