Cockroaches(66)
“That doesn’t help us,” Liz said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Harry said. “We don’t know that Brekke was just a scapegoat chosen at random. Perhaps the murderer had a motive for pointing the finger at him, an unresolved grievance.”
“And so?”
“If we let Brekke go something might happen. Perhaps we can entice the murderer out of his corner.”
“Sorry,” Liz said. She stared at the table. “We’re holding on to Brekke.”
“What?” Harry couldn’t believe his ears.
“Chief’s orders.”
“But—”
“That’s the way it is.”
“Besides, we have a new clue which points to Norway,” Rangsan said. “Forensics sent the results of the tests on the knife grease to their Norwegian colleagues to see what they made of it. They discovered it was reindeer grease, and we don’t have a lot of that in Thailand. Someone in Forensics suggested we should arrest Father Christmas.”
Nho and Sunthorn sniggered.
“But then Oslo said reindeer fat was used by the Sami in Norway to protect their knives.”
“A Thai knife and Norwegian grease. This is getting more and more interesting.” Liz stood up abruptly. “Goodnight, everyone. I hope you’ll all be well rested and ready to go tomorrow.”
Harry stopped her by the lift and asked for an explanation.
“Listen, Harry, this is Thailand and the rules are different. Our Police Chief has got involved and told the Commissioner in Oslo that we’ve found the murderer. He thinks it’s Brekke, and when I informed him of the latest developments he wasn’t exactly thrilled, and he insisted that Brekke be held in custody until at least he has an alibi.”
“But—”
“Face, Harry, face. Don’t forget that in Thailand you’re brought up never to admit a mistake.”
“And when everyone knows who made the mistake?”
“Then everyone helps out and makes sure it doesn’t look like a mistake.”
Fortuitously, the lift doors opened and closed behind Liz, thus saving her the benefit of Harry’s opinion on the matter. Harry thought about “All Along the Watchtower.” And now he remembered the line as well that there must be some way out of here.
Was there?
Outside his flat was a letter, and he saw Runa’s name on the back.
He unbuttoned his shirt. Sweat lay like a fine layer of oil on his chest and stomach. He tried to remember what it was like being seventeen. Had he been in love? Probably.
He put the letter on the bedside table, unopened, the way he was thinking of returning it. Then he reclined on the bed and half a million cars and an air-conditioning system tried to lull him to sleep.
He thought about Birgitta, the Swedish girl he had met in Australia and who had said she loved him. What was it that Aune had said? That he was “frightened of committing to other people?” The last thought he remembered was that all redemption comes complete with a hangover. And vice versa.
31
Saturday, January 18
Jens Brekke looked as if he hadn’t slept since Harry last saw him. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands fidgeted on the table.
“So you don’t remember the car-park attendant with the Afro,” Harry said.
Brekke shook his head. “As I said, I don’t use the car park myself.”
“Let’s forget Jim Love for the time being,” Harry said. “Let’s concentrate on who’s trying to put you in the slammer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone’s gone to an awful lot of trouble to destroy your alibi.”
Jens arched his eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into his hairline.
“On the thirteenth of January someone put the seventh of January video cassette into the recorder thereby deleting the hours when we would have seen the ambassador’s car and you accompanying him down to the car park.”
Jen’s eyebrows came back down and knitted into an “M.” “Eh?”
“Think about it.”
“I have enemies, you mean?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it was just convenient to have a scapegoat.”
Jens rubbed the back of his neck. “Enemies? None that I can think of, not that sort.” His face brightened. “But that must mean you’re letting me go.”
“Sorry, you’re still not out of the woods.”
“But you just said that you—”
“The Police Chief won’t let you go until we have an alibi. So I’m asking you to rack your brain. Was there anyone, anyone at all, who saw you after you said goodbye to the ambassador and before you arrived home? Was there anyone in reception when you left the office or when you caught the taxi? Did you stop by a kiosk, anything?”