Free The Last Fix by K. O. Dahl Page B

Something erotic, I would guess, a sex
thing.'
        'Do
you know if she had a past in prostitution?'
        'They
all do.'
        Frølich
raised both eyebrows.
        'Most
anyway.'
        'But
Katrine? Did she?'
        'She
had also experienced that segment of reality, yes.'
        Gunnarstranda
coughed. 'When did you last see Katrine?'
        Annabeth
looked perplexed. 'On Saturday.' She cleared her throat and took the plunge.
'At a party at our place. She became ill and then just left.'
        'In
other words, you were one of the last people to see her alive.'
        Annabeth
stared into the policeman's eyes for a few seconds and lowered her gaze. 'Yes…
I was, with several other people.'
        'You
said she became ill.'
        'She
had a bit of a turn and was sick. I was very shaken because I thought she was
drunk and it would not have looked good if our patients were seen to be
drinking and spewing up at my house.'
        'But
she wasn't drunk?'
        'No,
she hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all evening. And it can't have been the
food either because no one else was ill.'
        'So
it was a turn,' Gunnarstranda said. 'And she left the party with her
boyfriend?'
        'No,
she must have taken a taxi on her own.'
        'Must
have taken? You don't know if she did?'
        'No,
to be honest, I don't know how she got home.'
        'She
never did arrive home.'
        Annabeth
closed her eyes. 'Don't make this worse for me than it already is,
Gunnarstranda. I don't know how she went off. All I know is that someone was
taking care of her. I know she left the party and I assume they put her safely
into a taxi.'
        'But
do you know when?'
        'I
would guess at around midnight.'
        Gunnarstranda
nodded. 'Fru Ås,' he said, 'we have now reached a point in the
conversation where I have to explain that the parameters have changed
somewhat.'
        'Oh?'
        Gunnarstranda
did not reply at once.
        'Changed?
Surely you don't think…? Oh, my goodness, what…?'
        'We
don't think anything,' the policeman said gen- dy. 'The change is that you are
no longer required to protect client confidentiality. If you are not already
aware, I can release you from any professional oaths with immediate effect, if
necessary, with authority from the highest…'
        'That
won't be necessary,' Annabeth assured him. 'Should there be any problems we can
discuss them as they occur.'
        'Very
well,' said Gunnarstranda. 'Earlier today a post-mortem was carried out on
Katrine Bratterud.' He tossed his head to indicate where it had taken place.
        'Yes,'
said Annabeth.
        'Frølich
and I were present.'
        'Yes.'
        'It
is very important for us to have this vomiting business clear,' the detective
said. 'Are you positive she was sick?'
        'I
didn't stand watching, if that's what you mean.'
        'What
food did you serve at the party?'
        'Why
is that?'
        'I
would like to compare it with what we found in her stomach.'
        A
shudder went through Annabeth. She said: 'Filled mussel shells as a starter.
After that it was a buffet: salads, cured meats and tapas - you know, marinated
olives, artichokes, that sort of thing, because it's easy, then a bit of cheese
at the end… red wine… beer… and mineral water for those who wanted it… coffee
with cognac.'
        Gunnarstranda
nodded. 'We found fragments of skin under her nails,' he continued. 'This and a
number of other details suggest she defended herself.'
        'You
mean she scratched?'
        The
policeman nodded.
        'Poor
Katrine,' Annabeth muttered to herself, and as neither of the policemen said
anything, she added: 'Well, I haven't run into anyone with a scratched face, if
that's what you're wondering.' 'Why do you think Katrine's parents didn't
report her missing?'
        'They're
not in a state to miss her.'
        'And
what do you mean by