The Bat by Jo Nesbø Page A

to Brisbane. We were wondering if you knew anything about an Inger Holter.”
    She ran the name through her memory. Then she shook her head.
    “Evans doesn’t know a lot of girls. The ones he does know he brings here to meet me. After having a child with … with this terrible girl whose name I’m not sure if I want to remember, I forbade … I said I thought he should wait a bit. Until the right one came along.”
    “Why should he wait?” Harry asked.
    “Because I said so.”
    “Why did you say so, ma’am?”
    “Because … because it’s not the right moment—” she glanced at the shop to signal that her time was precious—“and because Evans is a sensitive boy who can be easily hurt. There’s been a lot of negative energy in his life, and he needs a woman he can trust one hundred percent. Not these … tarts that just muddle his thinking.”
    Gray cloud cover had settled over her pupils.
    “Do you see your son often?” Andrew asked.
    “Evans comes here as much as he can. He needs the peace. He works so hard, poor thing. Have you tried any ofthe herbs he sells? Now and then he brings a few along and I put them in the tea in the cafe.”
    Andrew cleared his throat again. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed a movement between the trees.
    “We’d better be off, ma’am. One last question, though.”
    “Yes?”
    Andrew seemed to have something stuck in his throat—he kept coughing and coughing. The web had started to sway.
    “Have you always had such blonde hair, Mrs. Dawson?”

13

Bubbur
    It was late when they landed in Sydney. Harry was dead on his feet and longing for his hotel bed.
    “A drink?” Andrew suggested.
    “Don’t you need to get home?” Harry asked.
    Andrew shook his head. “I won’t meet anyone there except myself at the moment.”
    “At the moment?”
    “Well, for the last ten years. I’m divorced. Wife lives in Newcastle with the girls. I try to see them as often as I can, but it’s quite a distance and the girls will soon be big enough to have their own plans for the weekend. Then I’ll discover, I suppose, that I’m not the only man in their lives. They’re good-looking little devils, you see. Fourteen and fifteen. Shit, I should chase away every admirer that darkens the door.”
    Andrew beamed. Harry couldn’t help but like this unaccustomed version of a colleague.
    “Well, that’s the way it goes, Andrew.”
    “That’s right, mate. How ’bout you?”
    “Well. No wife. No children. No dog. All I have is a boss, a sister, a father and a couple of guys I still call pals even though years pass between their calls. Or mine.”
    “In that order?”
    “In that order.” They laughed.
    “Come for one. At the Albury?”
    “That sounds like work,” Harry said.
    “Precisely.”
    Birgitta smiled as they entered. She finished serving a customer and came over to them. Her eyes were focused on Harry.
    “Hi,” she said.
    All Harry wanted to do was curl up on her lap and go to sleep.
    “Two double gin and tonics, in the name of the law,” Andrew said.
    “I’d prefer a grapefruit juice,” Harry said.
    She served them and leaned across the bar.
    “Thanks for yesterday,” she whispered in Swedish to Harry. In the mirror behind her he saw himself sitting with an idiotic grin on his face.
    “Hey, hey, no Scandinavian turtle-doving here now, thank you very much. If I’m paying for the drinks we speak in English.” Andrew shot them a stern look. “And now I’ll tell you young ones something. Love is a greater mystery than death.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Uncle Andrew’s going to tell you about an ancient Australian legend, to wit, the story of the giant snake Bubbur and Walla.”
    They bunched up closer, and Andrew licked his lips with relish as he lit a cigar.
    “Once upon a time there was a young warrior called Walla who had fallen in love with a beautiful young woman called Moora. And she with him. Walla had successfully completed his