The Snowman by Jo Nesbø, Don Bartlett Read Free Book Online Page A

said without hesitation. ‘The plane went at five minutes past eleven.’
    ‘Did you have any contact with Birte after leaving home?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What do you think could have happened?’
    ‘I have no idea, Inspector. I really don’t.’
    ‘Mm.’ Harry glanced out into the street. Since they had been there, he hadn’t heard a single car pass. A really quiet neighbourhood. The peace and quiet alone probably cost half a million in this area of town. ‘What sort of marriage do you and your wife have?’
    Harry heard Filip Becker stop what he was doing, and he added, ‘I have to ask because spouses do simply up sticks and leave.’
    Filip Becker cleared his throat. ‘I can assure you that my wife and I have a perfectly good marriage.’
    ‘Have you considered that she may be having an affair unbeknown to you?’
    ‘That’s out of the question.’
    ‘Out of the question is pretty strong, herr Becker. And extramarital relationships are pretty common.’
    Filip Becker gave a weak smile. ‘I’m not naive, Inspector. Birte’s an attractive woman and a good deal younger than me. And she comes from a relatively liberal family, it has to be said. But she’s not the type. And I have a relatively good perspective on her activities, if I may put it like that.’
    The coffee machine rumbled ominously as Harry opened his mouth to pursue the point. He changed his mind.
    ‘Have you noticed any mood changes in your wife?’
    ‘Birte is not depressed, Inspector. She has not gone into the forest and hung herself or thrown herself into the lake. She’s out there somewhere, and she’s alive. I’ve read that people go missing all the time, and then they turn up again with a natural and fairly banal explanation. Isn’t that so?’
    Harry nodded slowly. ‘Would you mind if I had a look around the house?’
    ‘Why’s that?’
    There was a brusqueness to Filip Becker’s question that made Harry think he was a man who was used to being in control. To being kept informed. And that argued against his wife having left without a word. Which, for that matter, Harry had already excluded in his mind. Well-adjusted, healthy mothers do not abandon ten-year-old sons in the middle of the night. And then there was all the rest. Usually they used minimal resources at such an early stage of a missing persons case, unless there were indications which suggested something criminal or dramatic. It was ‘all the rest’ that had made him drive up to Hoff himself.
    ‘Sometimes you don’t know what you’re looking for until you find it,’ Harry answered. ‘It’s a methodology.’
    He caught Becker’s eyes behind the glasses now. They were, unlike his son’s, light blue and shone with an intense, clear gleam.
    ‘By all means,’ Becker said. ‘Go ahead.’
    The bedroom was chilly, aroma-free and tidy. On the double bed was a crocheted quilt. On one bedside table a photograph of an elderly woman. The similarity led Harry to assume this side of the bed was Filip Becker’s. On the other bedside table was a photograph of Jonas. There was a faint scent of perfume in the wardrobe containing ladies’ clothing. Harry checked that the corners of the clothes hangers hung with equal distance from each other, as they would if they had been allowed to hang undisturbed for a while. Black dresses with slits, short jumpers with pink motifs and glitter. At the bottom of the wardrobe there was a drawer section. He pulled out the top drawer. Underwear. Black and red. Next drawer. Suspender belts and stockings. Third drawer. Jewellery placed in holes in bright red felt. He noticed a large gaudy ring with precious stones that glittered and sparkled. Everything here was a bit Vegas. There were no empty gaps in the felt.
    The bedroom had a door leading into a newly decorated bathroom with a steam shower and two steel washstands.
    In Jonas’s room, Harry sat down on a small chair by a small desk. On the desk there was a calculator with a series of