Holger Munch was sitting in Peppe’s Pizza being given a lesson in how to brush a doll’s hair. They had just finished eating, he and Marion—that is to say he had done the eating, Marion had spent most of her time drinking soda and playing. To his daughter’s great despair, he could not help himself, could not resist his granddaughter’s cute eyes and her pleading voice. He had never been able to. He had showered Marion with presents from the day she was born, teddies and dolls; her bedroom looked like a toy shop. Finally Miriam had put her foot down and told him that enough was enough. They were trying to bring up their daughter to be an independent and sensible girl, not a spoiled brat.
“Oh, Granddad, look. Monster High!”
“Monster what?”
“Monster High. That’s where they go to school. Look, that’s Jackson Jekyll. He’s a boy. Look at his nice yellow shirt. That’s because he’s a monster. Please, can I have him?”
“We had better not buy anything today, Marion. You remember what your mom said: we have to wait until it’s your birthday.”
“But that’s a trillion days away! And anyhow, when I’m with you, Mom’s rules don’t apply.”
“Really? Says who?”
“Says me. Just now.”
“Is that right?”
“I get to make the decisions, because I’m six years old and I’m going to go to Lilleborg School soon, and then no one can tell me what to do anymore. I’m in charge.”
Now, who did she remind him of? Sweet and lovely, but incredibly stubborn and willful?
“Oh, that’s Draculaura! Look, Granddad, Draculaura! And Frankie Stein! Frankie Stein, Granddad! Oh, please, can we buy them, Granddad?”
Marion got her way in the end, as she always did. Two dolls. Jackson Jekyll and Frankie Stein. Both students at some kind of monster school about which Holger Munch did not know the first thing, not that it mattered. But the smile in her eyes and her warm, soft arms wrapping themselves around his neck did. Who cared what school a couple of dolls went to and whether her mother would get annoyed?
“Jackson Jekyll wants to be Frankie Stein’s boyfriend, but she doesn’t want to go out with him, because she’s a tough girl who has big plans for the future.”
“You mean she’s independent?”
Marion looked up at him with her bright blue eyes. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”
Holger smiled to himself. It was like hearing his daughter’s voice all over again. Little Marion was a true copy of Miriam and then some. Holger Munch was reminded of when they had walked Miriam to school for her first day. How proud he had been. His little girl had grown up and was going out into the world. How did she suddenly turn into a heavily made-up fifteen-year-old, listening to loud music behind a closed bedroom door, definitely no Daddy’s girl anymore. Not to mention the next leap to twenty-five—how did that happen? The little girl who had clung to his leg, scared of all the other children, was now being fitted for her wedding dress, about to marry Marion’s father, Johannes, who was a newly qualified doctor from Fredrikstad and a man whom Holger barely knew. Holger Munch switched his attention back to his grandchild, who still thought he was the best grandfather in all the world and still wanted a hug and to sit on his lap.
“Now you be Jackson Jekyll,” Marion said.
“What did you say, sweetheart?”
“Now you’re Jackson Jekyll and I’m Frankie Stein.”
“Don’t you want a bit more pizza?”
“Frankie Stein doesn’t want to eat anything, because she’s on a diet. Please take the doll, Granddad.”
Holger accepted the doll reluctantly while trying not to be distracted by all the messages that kept arriving on his cell phone. He was determined not to make the same mistakes twice. When he was with Marion, she would have his full attention. That was the way it was going to be, and the rest of the world would just have to wait.
“Say something, Granddad,” Marion urged impatiently, balancing the thin monster doll on the table between leftover pizza slices.
“What do you want me to say?”
“‘Hey, Jackson, how are you?’” Marion said in her doll’s voice.
“Do you want to go see a film?”
“Yes, that sounds like fun. What’s on?”
“Pippi Longstocking,” Holger Munch said.
“But that’s a kids’ movie.” Frankie Stein sighed. “And that’s not the voice you used before, Granddad.”
“I’m sorry,” Holger said, stroking his granddaughter’s hair.
Holger saw a chance to sneak a peek at his phone. Anette had called and sent a text message. Kim had sent two text messages. And Kurt Eriksen, his family lawyer, had called several times. Holger wondered what he wanted. Marion was absorbed in playing, so he seized the opportunity to read the message from Anette.
We have the woman who made the dresses. And the customer. A man with an eagle tattoo on his neck. Have spoken to Kim. Call me.
So soon? Munch felt his policeman’s heart beat a little faster. Sometimes the media could be useful—they’d gotten a hit almost immediately. He quickly skimmed the two messages from Kim.
Might have something on the eagle tattoo guy. Curry thinks he knows who it is. Call me.
And then just:
Hello?
“Hi, where is Marion?”
Holger snapped back to reality to discover his daughter standing in front of him with a mildly irritated expression.
“Hello, Miriam. Marion? She’s—”
Marion was not in her chair.
“She was just . . .”
He never managed to complete the sentence. Miriam had already gone to retrieve Marion, who had wandered farther into the restaurant as part of her game.
“Didn’t we have a talk about buying her fewer toys?”
“Yes, but—”
“Get your things, Marion, we’re going home.”
“Already? But me and Granddad were going to get ice cream.”
“That’ll have to be some other day. Come on.”
Miriam started packing up Marion’s things. Holger got up to help.
“So how did the fitting go? Is everything all right?”
“It’s not really what I wanted.” Miriam sighed. “But they have a tailor, so we can alter it. I just hope they’ll get it done in time.”
“Yes, May twelfth is not far away.”
“No, you can say that again. Come on, Marion, we have to run now. Daddy is parked illegally. Say bye-bye to Granddad.”
“Bye-bye, Granddad.” The little girl smiled and gave him a big hug. “Promise you’ll practice playing for next time?”
“I promise.” Holger returned her smile.
“Will you be going on your own?” Miriam said.
“To what?”
“To the wedding. Will you be on your own, or will you be bringing someone?”
Bring someone to the wedding? It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He didn’t quite know why, but suddenly Karen from the nursing home sprang to mind. Her face lit up every time he visited. But take someone to a wedding for your first date? No, that would be completely wrong.
“I’m coming on my own,” Holger said.
“Why don’t you bring Mia? I heard she’s back. I would love her to come. I’ve tried calling her, but her cell phone doesn’t seem to work.”
Bring Mia, now there was a thought. And he knew that Miriam and Mia liked each other.
“She has a new phone,” he said. “But I don’t mind asking her myself. In fact, it’s a very good idea.”
“Good, then I’ll add her to the list,” Miriam said, and almost smiled before she became her usual serious self. “And another thing. It looks like Johannes and I may have to take a trip to Fredrikstad next weekend. Could you have Marion?”
“Of course. She can spend the whole weekend with me. It would be great.”
“Okay, I’ll call you.”
Miriam herded Marion toward the exit.
“Bye-bye, Granddad.”
“Bye-bye, Marion.”
Holger Munch waved good-bye until the door slammed shut behind them. Then he went to pay the bill.
Once he got outside, he could barely wait to call his colleagues. His break from the world had lasted long enough. They had news about the dresses.
Kim answered his phone after the first ring. “Hello?”
“What have we got?” Munch said.
“Anette and Mia found the woman who made the dresses. A seamstress from Sandvika.”
“And?”
“The customer was a man in his mid-forties. Eagle tattoo on his neck. Ten dresses.”
“Ten dresses?”
“Correct.”
Damn.
“And we know who he is?”
“Curry thinks so. Like I said, we’re not a hundred percent, but how many people in their mid-forties have a large eagle tattoo on their neck? He fits the description. Roger Bakken. He doesn’t have a record, but Curry ran into him once when he was working on the Drug Squad.”
“What kind of guy are we talking about?”
“A drug runner. Picking up and delivering packages, you know.”
“That sounds like it could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”
“I should say so.”
“Do we have an address?”
“Last known address is a hostel down in Grønland. That is, if we’re talking about the same Roger Bakken.”
“Have we dispatched a team?”
“Mia and Anette are there now.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Holger said, hanging up.