Suddenly there was an incident that could have been fatal. Anni Staal’s cell phone rang; she apologized and picked up. Shortly thereafter, the copy phone on the windowsill rang, echoing its master. He hurriedly turned it off. Anni Staal had not noticed anything, and when she was ready he had been out to the kitchen and regrouped. He finished the sentence he had been in the middle of before the interruption.
“But, as I said, a couple of times a sloppy investigation will lead to prosecution and conviction while a skillfully conducted one won’t. You learn to accept it or quickly forget that the work is unfair. And in a while you’ll get fresh coffee.”
Anni Staal nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds good. I for one need to cut back, of course. I have about twenty cups a day. Well, this went wonderfully. I think I have enough now. Is there anything you’d like to add? Or is there anything you think is missing?”
“I don’t want you to give the name of my daughter and ideally I’d like you to leave her out altogether.”
Anni Staal nodded, stuck out her hand, and stopped her tape recording.
“I can understand that, all things considered. All right, I’ll drop her.”
He took a Piratos from a bowl and let it swirl around in his mouth. Then he snarled, “You can never know what kind of perverted animals are on the loose out there.”
“Excuse me, what was that?”
The words had leaped out of his mouth. He cleared his throat and started over: “It was nothing. Thank you for leaving out my daughter.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s not much to thank me for. You’re the one who’s done all the work.”
He smiled, with more confidence than he really felt. “I guess.”
“Let’s go on to the current case—that is, your high-profile murder case. As I said, I imagine that it will be handled as a normal interview, that is to say with your answers to my questions. Direct quotes.”
“And as I said, that’s fine with me.”
“Smashing, then we’re in agreement on this point. I’ll switch tapes.”
She found a new tape in her bag and removed the plastic film. Normally she used her digital recorder for her interviews but a tape recorder afforded more natural pauses, and that was what she needed. She wrote a couple of lines on the cardboard container before she inserted the tape. Then she explained, “I’m using a good old-fashioned tape recorder today. My digital wonder is scratched up to the point that none of the IT folks can repair it.”
“I know that well. Most of my people prefer the old tape recorders to the unreliable digital versions.”
Simonsen’s tone was conversational, as was hers, but inside he felt his tension increase and he leaned back in the sofa with an assumed calm. In his thoughts he had spent considerable time rehearsing how he would approach various things. Especially in relation to the financial motives for the pedophile murders that had been planted with her. And what he should do if she didn’t even bring it up. Finally he had tried to push the thoughts away, which was easier said than done since they went around in circles without generating anything fruitful.
But perhaps it was because he had twisted and turned every hypothesis countless times that he managed her initial, seemingly innocent questions with ease. It started casually, before she had even turned on the tape recorder, but when he later thought back on it he was in no doubt that the questions had been carefully formulated and that his answers were far from inconsequential
“Tell me, was it your idea to agree to an interview with me?”
She had landed on the greatest illogical crack in Kasper Planck’s scheme. If he knew that the motive to the crime was money and that everyone else—specifically the tabloid press, which he hated—was chasing in the wrong direction, he had no reason to improve his relationship to the public and particularly not with her. In fact it would have been smarter to let the Dagbladet lie in its bed until his prosecutor could raise a couple of solid charges of burglary-murder.
He was able to clench his teeth as if repressing some bitterness. “No, not completely.”
“Helmer Hammer?”
He shrugged. What could he do except parry her words? Then he added, “If you ask me on tape then I will tell you it was all me. Your little handshake, however, was one hundred percent my idea but my boss approved it later without problems.”
Anni Staal smiled understandingly. She also had bosses who had to be obeyed. He stood up, fetched the coffee, filled up both of their cups, and sat back down again. His guest thanked him and started the tape.
“Let’s just jump straight into things. If there is a question you don’t understand then we’ll talk about it before you answer.”
He nodded. “That’s great.”
“Let me begin by getting right to the heart of the matter. Is it true that the motive for the pedophilia killings is money and that we are simply talking about murder on purely financial grounds?”
Simonsen spilled half his coffee down his pant leg. It was convincing, but hurt like hell.
CHAPTER 67