Cockroaches: The Second Inspector Harry Hole Novel by Jo Nesbø Read Free Book Online Page B

Thailand.”
    “And what’s this?”
    Harry had leaned over the driver’s side and picked up a small capsule partly buried under the carpet between the seat adjuster and the floor mat.
    The officer looked down at his list, but had to give up.
    “Liquid Ecstasy comes in capsules like that,” said Crumley, who had stepped closer to see.
    “Ecstasy?” Harry shook his head. “Middle-aged Christian Democrats might fuck around, but they do
not
take E.”
    “We’ll have to get it checked out,” Crumley said. Harry could see from her face that she wasn’t best pleased to have missed the capsule.
    “Let’s have a look in the back,” he said.
    The boot was as clean and tidy as the inside was messy.
    “A man of orderly habits,” Harry said. “The women of the family reigned supreme inside the car, but he didn’t let them touch the boot.”
    A well-equipped toolbox glinted in the light from Crumley’s torch. It was spotless; only plaster on the tip of a screwdriver revealed that it had been used.
    “Bit more victimology, folks. My guess is Molnes was not a practical man. This toolbox has never been near a car engine. At most, the screwdriver has been used to hang up a family photo.”
    A mosquito applauded by his ear. Harry hit out and felt his wet skin was cold to the touch. The heat hadn’t abated even if the sun had gone down. Now the wind had dropped and it felt as if moisture was trickling from the ground beneath their feet and condensing the air so that it was almost drinkable.
    Beside the spare tire was the jack, apparently also unused, and a thin, brown leather case of the kind you expect to find in a diplomat’s car.
    “What’s in the case?” Harry asked.
    “It’s locked,” Crumley said. “Because the car is, officially speaking, embassy territory and therefore not under our jurisdiction we haven’t attempted to open it. But now that Norway is represented maybe we can …”
    “Sorry, I don’t have diplomatic status,” Harry said, liftingthe case out of the boot and placing it on the ground. “But I can state that the case is no longer on Norwegian territory, so I would suggest you open it while I go to reception and speak to the motel owner.”
    Harry sauntered across the car park. His feet were swollen after the flight, a drop of sweat rolled down the inside of his shirt, tickling him, and he was desperate for a drink. Apart from that, it didn’t feel too bad to be on a serious case again. It was a long time since his last job. He noticed that the “m” had gone out.
    Wang Lee, Manager
said the business card the man behind the counter passed Harry, presumably a gentle hint that he should try again another day. The bony man in the flowery shirt had sleep in the corners of his eyes and looked as if he definitely did not want anything to do with Harry right now. He had started to flick through a pile of papers and grunted when he glanced up to see Harry still standing there.
    “I can see you’re a busy man,” Harry said. “So I suggest we do this as quickly as possible. I know I’m a foreigner and I’m not from your country—”
    “Not Thai. Chinese,” he heard, accompanied by another grunt.
    “Well, then, you’re also a foreigner. The point is—”
    From behind the counter came a couple of gasps which might have been scornful laughter. The motel owner had at any rate opened his mouth.
    “Not foreigner. Chinese. We make Thailand work. No Chinese, no business.”
    “Fine. You’re a businessman, Wang. So let me make you a business deal. You run a brothel here and you can flick through papers as much as you like, but that’s how it is.”
    Wang shook his head firmly. “No prostitutes. Motel. Rent rooms.”
    “Relax, I’m only interested in the murder, it’s not my job to lock up pimps. Unless I do it off my own bat. Hence the business deal. Here in Thailand no one checks people like you out, there are simply too many of you. Reporting you to the police isn’t enough, either.