Lethal Investments by K. O. Dahl

again. A faint buzz in the room, that was all, the buzz of Frank’s PC.
    ‘How many times did you make love?’
    No answer.
    ‘Answer the question. How many times did you make love?’
    ‘Twice.’
    ‘Any form of protection?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Not even a condom?’
    ‘No, I assumed she had … she had a coil or something like that.’
    ‘In these times of AIDS?’
    ‘Yes, but I didn’t have a condom.’
    ‘So you go out on the pull and leave the practical details to women?’
    ‘I wasn’t on the pull.’
    ‘But you screwed her!’
    Silence.
    ‘Answer for Christ’s sake.’
    The man in black drew a large breath.
    ‘OK, you weren’t on the pull that night. What happened?’
    ‘We met, as I said, we chatted, drank wine . . . and . . . well . . . we decided to go to her place.’
    ‘Where did you meet?’
    ‘At a restaurant called Scarlet.’ He hesitated. ‘Yes, it’s called Scarlet. I’d never been there before, I didn’t know her, had never seen her before, she was sitting on her own . . . we danced . . . and . . . well . . . so I sat with her . . . and . . .’
    ‘Was she alone there?’
    ‘Think so.’
    ‘What do you mean think ?’
    ‘It seemed so.’
    ‘She was sitting alone and waiting to be picked up?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What do you mean no ? She was alone, wasn’t she.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘But she wasn’t alone after all?’
    ‘She was alone, but it wasn’t like that.’
    ‘What was it like then?’
    ‘She didn’t dance with anyone in particular.’
    ‘Ah! So she danced with several men?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And you kept your eye on her?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And you danced with her?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And now you sit here and claim you weren’t on the pull! You’re lying!’
    Gunnarstranda had pushed the swivel chair away from the desk. Moved back and forth, impatient.
    The young man sat impassive, looking ahead with a fixed gaze.
    ‘Why did you go there on Saturday?’
    ‘Don’t know. It was a Saturday. I could have gone anywhere. I was walking through town.’
    ‘And what happened afterwards?’
    ‘Well, we started talking, getting to know each other, like.’
    ‘OK. What happened at her place?’
    ‘Mm . . . we slept together.’
    ‘How was it?’
    Silence.
    ‘I’m asking you how it was. What did you do?’
    ‘We . . .’
    ‘Did she offer herself?’
    ‘Offer herself?’
    ‘Did she get undressed and lie on the bed with her legs apart?’
    ‘No . . . we . . . ’
    ‘Come on, tell me what happened!’
    ‘You’re talking about a dead person!’
    ‘As I told you, I am well aware of how dead she is!’
    Gunnarstranda pushed off with his feet and rolled into the desk with a bang. Leaned forwards: ‘For Christ’s sake tell me what happened after you came in the door!’
    ‘I put my arms around her.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘We kissed.’
    ‘Where did you hold her?’
    ‘I stroked her buttocks.’
    ‘And then?’
    ‘Then we lay down.’
    ‘Dressed?’
    ‘I undressed her.’
    ‘And she screamed!’
    ‘Screamed?’
    ‘Yes, she screamed and said no. Isn’t that right?’
    ‘No, it is not!’
    Gunnarstranda banged his fist on the desk. ‘It’s not right? She didn’t scream? She screamed and screamed until you had to shut her screaming bloody gob, didn’t you!’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Have a look at this then!’
    Gunnarstranda got up and slung the photograph of Reidun Rosendal’s mutilated body on the desk.
    The young man took the photograph and shot a quick glimpse. Frank was unable to interpret the man’s reaction. Dead bodies are not attractive, he thought. Not this version, either. All the blood with the stained knife handle between her breasts.
    ‘Can you see the tie?’ Gunnarstranda asked in a hushed voice.
    The man shook his head in disbelief.
    ‘It’s sticking out under the edge of the shower cap.’
    The man nodded, but didn’t give the photograph a second look. He turned it over.
    ‘That’s your tie, isn’t it?’
    ‘I didn’t