Free The Redeemer by Jo Nesbø Page B

Holmen sitting with his mother and father standing on either side. Protected. Or, depending on how you saw it, surrounded. A silence ensued as no one said a word. Birger Holmen scratched his forearm through his shirt. Halvorsen wriggled forward in his chair, then moved back.
    'Do you know much about drug addiction, herr Holmen?' Harry asked without looking up.
    Birger Holmen frowned. 'My wife has taken one sleeping pill. That doesn't mean—'
    'I'm not talking about your wife. You may be able to save her. I'm talking about your son.'
    'Depends what you mean by know . He was hooked on heroin. It made him unhappy.' He was going to say something else, but paused. He examined the picture on the table. 'It made us all unhappy.'
    'I don't doubt that. But if you had known anything about drug addiction, you would have known that it takes precedence over everything else.'
    Birger Holmen's voice at once trembled with indignation. 'Are you saying I don't know that, Inspector? Are you saying . . . my wife was . . . he . . .' But tears had crept into his voice. '. . . his own mother . . .'
    'I know,' Harry whispered. 'But drugs come before mothers. Before fathers. Before life.' Harry breathed in. 'And before death.'
    'I'm exhausted, Inspector. What do you want?'
    'Tests show there were no drugs in his blood when he died. So he was in a bad state. And when heroin addicts are like this, the need for redemption is so strong that you can threaten your own mother with a gun to get it. And redemption is not a shot in the head, but in the arm, the neck, the groin or any other place you can still find a fresh vein. Your son was found with his kit and a bag of heroin in his pocket, herr Holmen. He can't have shot himself. Drugs take precedence, as I said, over everything. Also—'
    'Death.' Birger Holmen still had his head in his hands, but his voice was quite distinct. 'So you think my son was killed? Why?'
    'I was hoping you could tell us.'
    Birger Holmen did not answer.
    'Was it because he threatened her?' Harry asked. 'Was it to give your wife peace of mind?'
    Holmen raised his head. 'What are you talking about?'
    'My guess is you hung around Plata waiting. And when he turned up, you followed him after he had bought his fix. You took him down to the container terminal, as he sometimes went there when he had nowhere else.'
    'How am I supposed to know that?! This is outrageous. I—'
    'Of course you knew. I showed this photo to the watchman, who recognised the person I was asking about.'
    'Per?'
    'No, you. You were there this summer asking if you could search the containers for your son.'
    Holmen stared at Harry, who went on:
    'You had it all planned. Wire cutters to get in and an empty container, which was an appropriate place for a drug addict to end his life, where no one could hear or see you shoot him. With the gun you knew Per's mother could testify was his.'
    Halvorsen studied Birger Holmen and held himself in readiness, but Holmen showed no signs of making any kind of move. He breathed heavily through his nose and scratched his forearm while staring into space.
    'You can't prove any of this.' He said this in a resigned tone, as if it were a fact he regretted.
    Harry made a conciliatory gesture. In the ensuing silence they could hear loud barking from down in the street.
    'It won't stop itching, will it,' Harry said.
    Holmen stopped scratching at once.
    'Can we see what itches so much?'
    'It's nothing.'
    'We can do it here or down at the station. Your choice, herr Holmen.'
    The barking increased in intensity. A dog sled, here, in the middle of the city? Halvorsen had a feeling there was going to be an explosion.
    'Fine,' Holmen whispered, unbuttoning the cuff and pushing up his sleeve.
    There were two small sores with scabs on. The skin around them was red and inflamed.
    'Turn your arm round,' Harry ordered.
    Holmen had a matching sore underneath.
    'They itch like hell, dog bites, don't they,' Harry said. 'Especially after ten to fourteen