Burned

‘About a year.’

‘How did you meet?’

‘At a concert.’

‘What kind of concert?’

‘Surely the nature of the concert is irrelevant to the investigation?’ Indrehaug interjects.

Brogeland glares at Indrehaug who looks indignant on his client’s behalf.

‘We’re trying to establish what kind of relationship your client had with the victim,’ Sandland cuts in. For once, Brogeland decides not to look at her. He torpedoes Indrehaug with his eyes, though Indrehaug isn’t impressed in the slightest.

‘What kind of concert was it?’ Brogeland repeats.

‘Noori.’

‘Noori?’

‘At the Mela Festival.’

‘Noori is a fairly well-known Pakistani rock band,’ Sandland says. This time Brogeland looks at her, but tries to conceal how impressed he is, because he is also annoyed at her interruption.

‘It’s made up of two brothers from — ’

‘Yes, I get it.’

For the first time during the interview, something other than contempt emerges in Marhoni’s eyes. He looks at Sandland, slightly more vigilant now. Brogeland registers this and signals that she should take over. Sandland moves closer to the table.

‘When did you last see Henriette?’

Marhoni thinks about it. ‘Yesterday afternoon.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘She was at my place until Hotel Caesar finished.’

‘You watched Hotel Caesar?’

‘Really — ’

Indrehaug’s cheeks have acquired a flame-red hue, which reveals his fondness for red wine. Sandland holds up her hands by way of apology.

‘What did you talk about?’

‘This and that.’

‘Such as?’

Again, Indrehaug leans towards Marhoni.

‘That’s none of your business.’

Sandland smiles. She leans towards Brogeland, mimicking the performance across the table, but Brogeland stops listening once he realises that she isn’t saying ‘come home with me once this mind-numbing interview is over’ — words he has dreamt of hearing from her lips for so long.

‘Where was she going after Hotel Caesar had ended?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘You don’t know? Didn’t you ask?’

‘No.’

‘She spends the night at your place sometimes, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes, sometimes.’

‘But you didn’t ask why she didn’t stay over yesterday?’

‘No.’

Sandland sighs. Marhoni’s hard-boiled mask remains intact.

‘Have you heard of Ekeberg Common?’ she asks next.

‘No.’

‘Ever been up there?’

‘Not that I remember.’

‘Not been up there for the Norway Cup?’

‘I don’t like football.’

‘No brothers or nephews who play? You haven’t been up there to support them when they played?’

He shakes his head and twinkles arrogantly at her.

‘Have you ever played cricket up there?’

He is about to say ‘no’ on autopilot, but he hesitates half a second too long. Brogeland notes down ‘has been to Ekeberg, but is lying about it’. Sandberg reads it, and carries on:

‘Do you own a stun gun, Mr Marhoni?’

His reaction suggests she has just asked him the stupidest question in the world.

‘A what?’

‘Don’t give me that. You know what a stun gun is. Don’t you ever go to the movies? Watch cop shows?’

He shakes his head again and adds a smirk.

‘I don’t like cops.’

‘Inspector, what’s the point of these questions?’

‘We’re getting to it, Mr Indrehaug,’ Brogeland says with forced restraint in his voice. Sandland is about to attack. She pulls out a sheet.

‘The victim was found with marks on her neck. They match those caused by a stun gun. Also known as an electroshock weapon, if you know what that is.’

She slides the sheet across the table and turns it over, so they can see it. It is a close-up of the victim’s neck. Two rust-coloured, irregular burns can clearly be seen. Indrehaug picks up the photograph and studies it.

‘There are many different models, but a stun gun is used when you want to paralyse rather than injure your victim. Render them helpless. So that you can put them in a hole and bury them.’ Sandland looks at Marhoni, but he remains unimpressed and unaffected by her questions.

‘For someone whose girlfriend has just been killed in a very brutal way, you don’t seem terribly upset or sad,’ she carries on. It is a question rather than a statement. Marhoni shrugs again.

‘Didn’t you care about her?’

A tiny twitch flits across his face.

‘Didn’t you love her?’

Marhoni blushes faintly.

‘Did she meet with you yesterday to end it? Was that why you killed her?’

He is getting angry now.

‘Had she met someone else? Bored with you, was she?’

Marhoni moves to get up. Indrehaug places his hand on Marhoni’s arm.

‘Sergeant — ’

‘Was that why you killed her?’

Marhoni stares at Sandland as if he wants to tear her apart.

‘Did you look at Henriette like that when you picked up the rock and crushed her head?’

‘Sergeant, that’s enough.’

‘Tell your client to answer the question.’

Brogeland coughs and gestures to Sandland to calm down. The room falls silent. Brogeland can see the pulse beat on Marhoni’s throat. He decides to strike while the iron is hot.

‘Mr Marhoni, preliminary examinations carried out at the crime scene and on the victim show she had very rough sex not long before she was killed. Would you know anything about that? What can you tell us about it?’