The Catalyst Killing (K2 and Patricia series Book 3) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Hans Olav Lahlum
time I spoke to her. I believe the same is true for the others as well, but you will of course have to ask them.’
I assured him that I would, but asked all the same if he happened to know where I might be able to find this Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen.
His smile was both roguish and sarcastic. ‘As I said, I have not been in contact with her for the past year, but I would guess that it should be easy enough. If I know Miriam, she will be sitting in the university library between half past eight and five, and will be at the SPP office from a quarter past five until ten. And I believe that between half past ten at night and half past seven in the morning, she will be alone in her bed at Sogn Halls of Residence, but I most certainly have never checked the latter. You won’t miss her. She is the one reading a book not only as she walks out of the library, but also when she crosses the road!’
Trond Ibsen laughed charmingly at his own little joke. But I had seen a glimpse of the harder and more fanatical man hidden behind this jovial facade. In addition, I had a strong suspicion that he was holding something back from me. Twice he seemed to be about to add something, and twice he refrained from doing so.
I thanked him for the information he had given me. Without being asked, he said that he would of course be happy to answer any more questions, either at his home in Bestum or his office in Majorstua.
My curiosity regarding Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen had been piqued – the girl who had stood up and left, and who apparently read books as she crossed the street. I had in the meantime concluded that I should speak to all the members of the group as soon as possible, and Kristine Larsen was the one who lived closest.
VII
I stopped at a phone box on the corner and dialled the number I had been given for Kristine Larsen. She picked up the telephone on the third ring, without much enthusiasm, as far as I could tell. But she was clearly at home and immediately said that she had heard that Marie Morgenstierne was dead. When I said that I was in the neighbourhood and asked if I could come by, she said yes, with a quiet sigh.
Kristine Larsen lived on her own in a one-bedroom flat on the second floor. She came from a small family and had inherited the flat recently from her late grandmother, she added by way of explanation for the rather untidy living room. We sat down instead at a tidier kitchen table, where two coffee cups stood waiting.
Kristine Larsen was around five foot ten, blonde, slim and rather attractive and friendly. She was, however, obviously affected by the situation. She repeated twice that she would of course answer me as best she could, but that she was not used to being questioned by the police, and it had been a shock to learn that Marie Morgenstierne had been killed. Both Trond Ibsen and Anders Pettersen had called her, but she had already heard the news about a young woman who had been found dead at Smestad on the radio and immediately known who it was. As a result, she had remained at home instead of going to her lectures.
I assured her that we had all the time in the world, and she calmed down a bit. I quickly got the impression that behind her cautious manner was a rather strong-willed woman. She also appeared to have a good memory, and to be a reliable witness.
As far as Falko Reinhardt’s disappearance was concerned, Kristine Larsen said that it was still a complete mystery to her. She had been staying in the next room with Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen, but had been kept awake by a headache that night. She had left the door out to the hallway ajar because she needed air. She recognized all the others’ footsteps and could hear any movement outside her room after she had gone to bed. She had heard Marie Morgenstierne going to the kitchen to get a glass of water, Anders Pettersen going to the toilet and Trond Ibsen going out to get some fresh air for a few minutes. Her roommate Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen had read in
I assured him that I would, but asked all the same if he happened to know where I might be able to find this Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen.
His smile was both roguish and sarcastic. ‘As I said, I have not been in contact with her for the past year, but I would guess that it should be easy enough. If I know Miriam, she will be sitting in the university library between half past eight and five, and will be at the SPP office from a quarter past five until ten. And I believe that between half past ten at night and half past seven in the morning, she will be alone in her bed at Sogn Halls of Residence, but I most certainly have never checked the latter. You won’t miss her. She is the one reading a book not only as she walks out of the library, but also when she crosses the road!’
Trond Ibsen laughed charmingly at his own little joke. But I had seen a glimpse of the harder and more fanatical man hidden behind this jovial facade. In addition, I had a strong suspicion that he was holding something back from me. Twice he seemed to be about to add something, and twice he refrained from doing so.
I thanked him for the information he had given me. Without being asked, he said that he would of course be happy to answer any more questions, either at his home in Bestum or his office in Majorstua.
My curiosity regarding Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen had been piqued – the girl who had stood up and left, and who apparently read books as she crossed the street. I had in the meantime concluded that I should speak to all the members of the group as soon as possible, and Kristine Larsen was the one who lived closest.
VII
I stopped at a phone box on the corner and dialled the number I had been given for Kristine Larsen. She picked up the telephone on the third ring, without much enthusiasm, as far as I could tell. But she was clearly at home and immediately said that she had heard that Marie Morgenstierne was dead. When I said that I was in the neighbourhood and asked if I could come by, she said yes, with a quiet sigh.
Kristine Larsen lived on her own in a one-bedroom flat on the second floor. She came from a small family and had inherited the flat recently from her late grandmother, she added by way of explanation for the rather untidy living room. We sat down instead at a tidier kitchen table, where two coffee cups stood waiting.
Kristine Larsen was around five foot ten, blonde, slim and rather attractive and friendly. She was, however, obviously affected by the situation. She repeated twice that she would of course answer me as best she could, but that she was not used to being questioned by the police, and it had been a shock to learn that Marie Morgenstierne had been killed. Both Trond Ibsen and Anders Pettersen had called her, but she had already heard the news about a young woman who had been found dead at Smestad on the radio and immediately known who it was. As a result, she had remained at home instead of going to her lectures.
I assured her that we had all the time in the world, and she calmed down a bit. I quickly got the impression that behind her cautious manner was a rather strong-willed woman. She also appeared to have a good memory, and to be a reliable witness.
As far as Falko Reinhardt’s disappearance was concerned, Kristine Larsen said that it was still a complete mystery to her. She had been staying in the next room with Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen, but had been kept awake by a headache that night. She had left the door out to the hallway ajar because she needed air. She recognized all the others’ footsteps and could hear any movement outside her room after she had gone to bed. She had heard Marie Morgenstierne going to the kitchen to get a glass of water, Anders Pettersen going to the toilet and Trond Ibsen going out to get some fresh air for a few minutes. Her roommate Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen had read in
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