The Final Murder by Anne Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

the house.
    He looked at the compass on his sophisticated watch. He drew a map in his mind. Then he took a step back, closed one eye and looked at the view again.
    If you were to fell the three spruce trees at the bottom of the garden and demolish the small housing development a few hundred metres away, you could see the house where Fiona Helle was
    murdered, only a week ago.
    There couldn’t be more than one and a half kilometres
    between the two places.
     
    ‘Is there any chance at all? I mean, that the cases are linked?’
    Adam helped himself to a healthy portion of the fried potatoes before reaching for the Heinz bottle.
    ‘Do you have to have ketchup on absolutely everything?’
    ‘Do you think there is? A connection?’
    ‘I’m going now,’ Kristiane shouted from the hall.
    ‘Shit,’ Johanne exclaimed, and ran to the stairs with Ragnhild in her arms, ‘she’s not asleep.’
    Kristiane’s nose was squashed up against the front door. Her red down jacket was zipped up. Her scarf was wound tightly
    around her neck and her hat hung down over her eyes. She had her boots on the wrong feet. She was clutching a mitten in each hand. She leant her whole body against the locked door and
    announced: ‘I’m going.’
    ‘Not now, you’re not,’ Johanne called and handed the baby to Adam. ‘It’s too late. It’s past nine o’clock. You were in bed and … Do you want to hold Ragnhild for a while? Isn’t she sweet and funny?’
    ‘Horrible,’ hissed Kristiane. ‘Horrible child.’
    ‘Kristiane!’
    Adam Stubo’s voice was so sharp that Ragnhild started to cry.
    He rocked her in frustration and murmured into the soft blanket that was wrapped round her. Kristiane started to howl. She rocked from foot to foot and banged her forehead against the wood. Her howling changed into desperate, rasping sobs.
    ‘Daddy,’ she growled in between the sobs. ‘My daddy. I’m
    going to my daddy.’
    Johanne threw up her hands and turned round to face Adam,
    who was standing halfway up the stairs.
    ‘It might be best,’ she started. ‘I think maybe…’
    ‘No way,’ Adam stopped her. ‘She’s been with Isak for a week.
    So now she’s going to stay with us. It’s important for her to feel included. That she’s part of the family. That…’
    The baby had finally stopped crying. Some gunk from her eyes ran down her rosy cheek. Her soft hair stuck to her skull.
    Suddenly she blinked her eyes, reluctantly, as if she had just woken up from a long, deep sleep. She pulled a face so you could see her gums.
    ‘… That this is her sister,’ he finished quietly, and his lips brushed the child’s skin. ‘Kristiane must stay here. She can go to Isak’s again in a few days.’
    ‘Daddy! I want to go to my daddy!
    Adam descended into the small porch that they had on the
    ground floor. He could feel the underfloor heating burning
    through his woollen socks. He was worried that the electricians had done something wrong when they were doing up the house.
    God knows when he would get time to check it. He carefully gave the baby back to Johanna.
    ‘Here comes Tiddly the Wriggling Tadpole,’ he said and threwT
    Kristiane over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, before marching back up the stairs.
    ‘Don’t,’ giggled Kristiane, against her will, as he pulled one of her boots off and planted it in a flowerpot. ‘Don’t!’
    ‘This will grow into a boot flower in a week or two. And this one…’
    He threw the other boot into the wastepaper basket.
    ‘Haven’t got any use for this one,’ he said, and manoeuvred her into a firm hold. ‘Tadpoles don’t need shoes.’
    He kicked open the door to her bedroom with a bang. Then he
    pulled off her clothes quick as a flash. Fortunately she still had her pyjamas on underneath.
    ‘Quick,’ he puffed. ‘Or the troll will sweat to death. I’m going to start counting now.’
    ‘Don’t,’ shrieked Kristiane with delight and buried herself
     
    under the duvet.
    ‘One,’