Harry Hole Mysteries 3-Book Bundle Read Free

apparatus against the wall. It squeaked twice.
    ‘Damp detector,’ the man said, studying something that was obviously an indicator. ‘Just as I thought. Sure you haven’t seen or smelt anything suspicious?’
    Harry didn’t have a clear perception of what that might be.
    ‘A coating like on stale bread,’ the man said. ‘Mouldy smell.’
    Harry shook his head.
    ‘Have you had sore eyes?’ the man asked. ‘Felt tired? Had headaches?’
    Harry shrugged. ‘Of course. For as long as I can remember.’
    ‘Do you mean for as long as you’ve lived here?’
    ‘Maybe. Listen …’
    But the man wasn’t listening; he’d taken a knife from his belt. Harry stood back and watched the hand holding the knife being raised and thrust with great force. There was a sound like a groan as the knife went through the plasterboard behind the wallpaper. The man pulled out the knife, thrust it in again and bent back a powdery piece of plaster, leaving a large gap in the wall. Then he whipped out a small penlight and shone it into the cavity. A deep frown developed behind his oversized glasses. Then he stuck his nose deep into the cavity and sniffed.
    ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Hello there, boys.’
    ‘Hello there who?’ Harry asked, edging closer.
    ‘
Aspergillus
,’ said the man. ‘A genus of mould. We have three or four hundred types to choose between and it’s difficult to say which one this is because the growth on these hard surfaces is so thin it’s invisible. But there’s no mistaking the smell.’
    ‘That means trouble, right?’ Harry asked, trying to remember how much he had left in his bank account after he and his father had sponsored a trip to Spain for Sis, his little sister who had what she referred to as ‘a touch of Down’s syndrome’.
    ‘It’s not like real dry rot. The block won’t collapse,’ the man said. ‘But you might.’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘If you’re prone to it. Some people get ill from breathing the same air as the mould. They’re ailing for years, and of course they get accused of being hypochondriacs since no one can find anything and the other residents are fine. And then the pest eats up the wallpaper and the plasterboard.’
    ‘Mm. What do you suggest?’
    ‘That I eradicate the infection, of course.’
    ‘And my personal finances while you’re at it?’
    ‘Covered by the building’s insurance, so it won’t cost you a krone. All I need is access to the flat for the next few days.’
    Harry found the spare set of keys in the kitchen drawer and passed them to him.
    ‘It’ll just be me,’ the man said. ‘I should mention that in passing. Lots of strange things going on out there.’
    ‘Are there?’ Harry smiled sadly, staring out of the window.
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘Nothing,’ Harry said. ‘There’s nothing to steal here anyway. I’ll be off now.’
    *   *   *
    The low morning sun sparkled off all the glass on Oslo Police HQ, standing there as it had for the last thirty years, on the summit of the ridge by the main street, Grønlandsleiret. From there the police were – although this had not been exactly intentional – near to the high crime areas in east Oslo, and the prison, located on the site of the old brewery, was its closest neighbour. The police station was surrounded by a brown, withering lawn and maple and linden trees which had been covered with a thin layer of grey-white snow during the night, making the park look like a deceased’s shrouded chattels.
    Harry walked up the black strip of tarmac to the main entrance and entered the central hall where Kari Christensen’s porcelain wall decoration with running water whispered its eternal secrets. He nodded to the security guard in reception and went up to Crime Squad on the sixth floor. Although it was almost six months since he had been given his new office in the red zone, he often went to the cramped, windowless one he had shared with Police Officer Jack Halvorsen. Now Magnus Skarre was in there. And Jack