Free Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police by Jo Nesbø Page B

but it was their voices that gave them away. The muscles in the vocal cords and throat are so finely tuned that they can create sound waves in the form of identifiable words. When Ståle had lectured at PHS he had always emphasised to students what a miracle this was in itself. And he had said there was an even more sensitive instrument – the human ear. Which could not only decode the sound waves as vowels and consonants but also expose the speaker’s body temperature, level of tension and feelings. In interviews it was more important to listen than to watch. A tiny rise in key, or an almost imperceptible quiver, was a more significant signal than crossed arms, clenched fists, the size of the pupils and all the factors on which the new wave of psychologists conferred such importance, but which in Ståle’s experience more often confused and misled a detective. It was true this patient swore in front of him, but it was still primarily the pattern of pressure on Ståle’s eardrums that told him this patient was on his guard and angry. Normally that wouldn’t worry the experienced psychologist. On the contrary, strong emotions often meant a breakthrough was imminent. But the problem with this patient was that things came in the wrong sequence. Even after several months of regular sessions Ståle hadn’t made contact, there was no closeness, no trust. In fact it had been so unproductive that Ståle had considered recommending they broke off the treatment and perhaps referring the patient to a colleague. Anger in an otherwise secure atmosphere was good, but in this case it could mean the patient was closing himself off further, digging an even deeper trench.
    Ståle sighed. He had obviously made the wrong decision, but it was too late, and he decided to plough on.
    ‘Paul,’ he said. The carefully plucked eyebrows and the two small scars under the chin, suggesting a facelift, had allowed Ståle to categorise him within ten minutes of the first therapy session. ‘Repressed homosexuality is very normal even in our apparently tolerant society.’ Aune followed the patient closely to detect a reaction. ‘I’m often consulted by the police, and one officer told me he was open about his homosexuality in his private life, but he couldn’t be open in his job because he would be frozen out. I asked if he was really so sure of that. Oppression often turns out to be the expectations we impose on ourselves and the expectations we interpret those around us as having. Especially those closest, friends and colleagues.’
    He stopped.
    There was no widening of the patient’s pupils, no colouring of the complexion, no resistance to eye contact, no evasive body language. On the contrary, a little contemptuous smile had appeared on his thin lips. But, to his surprise, Ståle Aune noticed that the temperature in his own cheeks had risen. My God, how he hated this patient! How he hated this job.
    ‘And the policeman,’ Paul said, ‘did he follow your advice?’
    ‘Our time’s up,’ Ståle said without checking the clock.
    ‘I’m curious, Aune.’
    ‘And I’ve taken an oath of confidentiality.’
    ‘So let’s call him X then. And I can see from your face that you didn’t like the question.’ Paul smiled. ‘He followed your advice, and there was an unhappy outcome, wasn’t there?’
    Aune sighed. ‘X went too far, misunderstood a situation and tried to kiss a colleague in the toilets. And was frozen out. The point is that it might have gone well. Would you at least give the matter some thought for next time?’
    ‘But I’m not a homo.’ Paul raised a hand towards his throat, then lowered it again.
    Ståle Aune nodded briefly. ‘Same time next week?’
    ‘I don’t know. I’m not getting better, am I?’
    ‘It’s going slowly, but we’re making progress,’ Ståle said. The answer came as automatically as the patient’s hand moving towards his tie.
    ‘Yes, you’ve said that a few times,’ Paul said. ‘But I