Dregs by Jørn Lier Horst

results had also included the word tumour and led him to the home page of Kreftforeningen , the national cancer organisation.
    He hurriedly clicked it away and looked up Camilla Thaulow in the telephone directory. She lived in Markaveien in Langangen, but had no phone numbers listed other than the one he had already rung.
    He clicked further into the net pages of the local newspaper, saved in his favourites section. The press release was already doing its work. The Internet Editor had chosen INVESTIGATING MURDER as the headline. Wisting managed to discover that the newspaper had been in touch with Assistant Chief of Police Audun Vetti, who had confirmed that a murder investigation was under way.
    His mobile phone rang. The circus had begun.
     
    Line stretched her arms in the air and yawned, details from the old newspaper reports still running through her head. She had worked with great concentration on the cuttings and made a plan for meeting the police murderer Ken Ronny Hauge. Feeling hungry, she glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost two hours had gone by. Her father should be home by now.
    She opened the refrigerator and noted that he had done his shopping with her in mind. There were new sandwich toppings, cheese, two slices of beef, and a carton of milk. Her father did not drink milk. She had almost stopped as well, but he still thought that she needed a glass every morning and always bought some in when he knew she was coming.
    She took a couple of tomatoes from the drawer at the bottom back to the computer. Fresh juice ran out of the corners of her mouth when she bit into them. She sucked it in, dried her mouth with the back of her hand and chewed some more while clicking into Verdens Gang on the net. She remained sitting with her mouth half-open as she read the headline: MURDER ALARM SOUNDED IN STAVERN. On the next line, in slightly smaller type, it stated: Body parts wash ashore on the beaches .
    She put the half-eaten tomato aside and scrolled down through the text, but had not managed to read all of it before the telephone rang. It was Morten Pludowski from the news section. They had worked together on several criminal cases, but had not spoken since Line had been transferred to the features department.
    ‘Have you read about it?’ he asked, without introducing himself.
    ‘I’m reading it now.’
    ‘Do you know anything about it?’
    ‘No more than what it says on the net newspaper.’
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘At home.’ She hesitated before adding: ‘In Larvik.’
    ‘Wonderful. I’m on my way down.’
    ‘But I’m working on something completely different,’ Line protested. ‘I have appointments that I can’t change. I can’t take part in this. I don’t want to either. It will make things difficult with Dad.’
    ‘That’s ok. We’re coming with a team. I just want you to be aware that if you get to know anything I hope you’ll phone me.’
    ‘Of course. Goes without saying.’
    ‘And I’d like to have a cup of coffee with you when I arrive down there.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I miss you.’
    Line didn’t know if it was true or flattery, but realised that she missed Morten P. as well. He had been working on crime stories for over twenty years, but from day one had never had any problem about taking Line with him to accidents and crime scenes. They had good chemistry, and she had learned a great deal from him.
    ‘I miss you too,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps we can try for lunch tomorrow?’
    ‘I’ll phone you if I’m free.’ Someone was shouting in the background. ‘Now I have to go. Speak later.’
    ‘Good luck!’
    The connection was cut, and Line remained sitting with a tingling feeling in her stomach. She would give a lot to take part in the case, but did not have any wish to cover a murder investigation that her father was leading. She had done that only once, and it had been too exhausting for her to want it to happen again. She fiddled with the phone for a while, and then