The Final Murder Read Free Page A

Johanne!’
    ‘Yes, lots. But they’re more anonymous. You’re so close here.
    It’s just them and us, so it’s more … I don’t know.’
    ‘But we get on so well with Gitta and Samuel! Not to mention little Leonard! If it wasn’t for him, Kristiane would hardly have any.
    “I mean, look at these!’
    johanne stuck out a foot and laughed quietly.
    ‘I’ve never had slippers before in my life. Hardly dare to get out of bed without putting them on now!’
    ‘They’re sweet. Remind me of little toadstools.’
    ‘They’re supposed to look like toadstools, that’s why! Couldn’t you have got her to choose something else? Rabbits, bears? Or even better, completely normal brown slippers?’
    The parquet creaked with every step he took towards her. She pulled a face before turning back to the window again.
    it’s not exactly easy to get Kristiane to change her mind,’ he said- ‘Please stop being so anxious. Nothing is going to happen.’
    That’s what Isak said when Kristiane was a baby too.’
    That was different. Kristiane …’
    ‘No one knows what’s wrong with her. So no one can know if
    there’s anything wrong with Ragnhild.’
    “Oh, so we’re agreed on Ragnhild, then?’
    ‘Yes,’ Johanne said.
    Adam put his arms round her.
    ‘Ragnhild is a perfectly healthy eight-day-old baby,’ he whispered.
    ‘She wakes up three times a night for milk and then goes
    straight back to sleep. Just like she should. Do you want some coffee?’
    ‘OK, but be quiet.’
    He was about to say something. He opened his mouth, but
    then imperceptibly shook his head instead, picked up a sweater from the floor and pulled it on as he went out to the kitchen.
    ‘Come and sit down in here,’ he called. ‘If you absolutely must stay awake all night, let’s at least do something useful.’
    Johanne pulled up a bar stool to the island in the middle of the kitchen and tightened her dressing gown. She absent-mindedly picked through a thick file that shouldn’t be lying in the kitchen.
    ‘Sigmund doesn’t give up, does he?’ she said and rubbed her
    eyes behind her glasses.
    ‘No, but he’s right. It’s a fascinating case.’
    He turned round so quickly that the water in the coffee jug
     
    spilt.
    ‘I was only at work for an hour,’ he said defensively. ‘From the time I left here until I got back was only
    ‘OK, OK, don’t worry. That’s fine. I understand that you have to go in every now and then. I have to admit…’
    On the top of the pile was a photograph, a flattering portrait of a soon-to-be murder victim. The shoulder-length hair with a
    middle parting made her narrow face look even thinner. Not
    much else about Fiona Helle was old-fashioned. Her eyes were defiant, her full lips smiled confidently at the lens. She was wearing heavy eye make-up, but somehow managed to avoid looking
    vulgar. In fact, there was actually something quite captivating about the picture, an obvious glamour that contrasted sharply with the down-to-earth, family-friendly programme profile she had so successfully built up.
    ‘What do you have to admit?’ asked Adam.
    ‘That…’
    ‘That you think this case is bloody interesting too,’ smirked Adam, banging around with the cups. ‘I’m just going to get a pair of trousers.’
    Fiona Helle’s background was no less fascinating than the portrait.
    She graduated in History of Art, Johanne noted as she read.
    Married Bernt Helle, a plumber, when she was only twenty-two; they took over her grandparents’ house in L0renskog and lived there without children for thirteen years. The arrival of little Fiorella in 1998 had obviously not put any brakes on either her ambition or her career. Quite the opposite in fact. Having gained cult status as a presenter for the arty Cool Culture on NRK2, she was then snapped up by the entertainment department. After a couple of seasons on a late-night chat show on Thursdays, she finally made it. At least, that was the expression she used herself,