Holger Munch was standing outside his mother’s room at Høvikveien Nursing Home struggling to get his thoughts in order. Too much had happened recently, far too much. The threat against Marion. His daughter and granddaughter being forced to go into hiding. They had found Malin Stoltz. They had lost Malin Stoltz. Mikkelson had called him countless times, and Munch had yet to call him back. He sat down on a chair and stretched his legs. He caught a whiff of something unpleasant and realized to his horror that the smell was coming from him. He had dozed a couple of hours in his office chair and had not had time to change his clothing. He rubbed his face and fought to keep his eyes open. Thank God he could afford for his mother to live in a place like this. They had a doctor on call, so she hadn’t even had to leave her room. She was fine. Fortunately, her problem had turned out not to be as serious as it first seemed.
Fortunately.
Holger Munch found his cell phone and called Miriam, but for some reason there was no reply. He shook his head and tried again, only to get the same result. Typical. Stubborn girl. He had promised to bring them more food, fresh clothes, more toys for Marion, and now he was stuck here. He sent her a text message asking her to call him, and then he put his phone back in the pocket of his duffel coat. The corridor was warm. He found the air stuffy. He ought to take off his jacket, but he really did not smell very good. He got up and went to one of the lavatories. Stuck his mouth under the tap and drank some water. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. He looked dreadful. Malin Stoltz’s apartment has been filled with mirrors from floor to ceiling. He’d never seen anything like it. Who lived like that? He had struggled just to stay in it for five minutes. Malin. Miriam. Marion. Mikkelson. Munch. So many M’s. He tried for a moment to be Mia. Nothing but M’s. Was it significant? He returned to the corridor and sat down again. Nothing but M’s? Nonsense. Perhaps Mikkelson was right after all. Perhaps he should step aside. Let someone else take over. His head was no longer working as it should. He hated to admit it, but she really had them over a barrel. Malin Stoltz. If that was her real name. She had hit them at their most vulnerable point, their private lives, rattled them. Rattled him. He was no longer thinking clearly. He couldn’t tell the difference between emotion and reason. He was tempted to go outside for a cigarette but opted for a mint instead. Four girls dead and his family in hiding. At least they had a suspect now. And no more girls had disappeared—that was something. It’ll be over soon, he thought, leaning back in the chair. We’ll find her, and then it will be over. He wasn’t aware of it, but his eyelids were closing. He realized it only when the door opened and the on-call doctor appeared, together with Karen, who had alerted him.
Munch quickly got up.
“How is she?”
“She’s fine,” the doctor said. “And I mean that. I found no signs of anything wrong. She must just have been a little tired. Perhaps she got up too quickly from her bed. It could be so many things, but there’s really nothing to worry about. She’s quite all right.”
Munch breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I see her?”
“I’ve given her something to make her sleep, so it’s better that she rests. Perhaps this afternoon.”
“Thank you.” Munch shook the doctor’s hand.
“And who else?” the doctor said, now addressing Karen.
“Torkel Binde,” Karen said. “He’s been complaining about his medication. His room is at the far end of this corridor. Let me show you the way.”
Karen smiled tenderly at Munch and followed the doctor down the corridor. Munch got up and went outside. He lit a cigarette and called Gabriel Mørk.
“Yes?”
“It’s Holger. I’m at the nursing home, had to deal with a private matter. Where are we?”
“I’ve found the movie on the laptop that Sarah Kiese brought in. It’s a little damaged, especially the sound, but I have a friend who can fix it. Is it all right if I contact him?”
“Go ahead,” Munch said.
“I’ll call him at once,” Gabriel said.
Munch next called Mia. She didn’t answer her phone. He called her again, but there was still no reply. What is it with these stubborn girls? he thought, and sent her a text message as well.
Call me!
He then tried Ludvig, who did reply.
“Yes?”
“Munch here, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Please send someone to the apartment in Frogner with some things for Miriam and Marion.”
“Will do. What do they need?”
“I’ll text you a list. And pick someone you trust, won’t you?”
“Will do,” Ludvig replied.
“Yes, and would you . . .”
“Yes?”
For a moment Munch forgot what he was going to say. He rubbed his eyes. He had to get some rest now. This was irresponsible.
“What do we have on Malin Stoltz?”
“Still missing, nothing to report. Nothing from Gardermoen Airport, ditto Oslo Central Station. Do you want to call it off?”
Munch remembered what Mia had said. That Stoltz would not try to escape. That she wanted to go home. An apartment full of mirrors. He shuddered. He was loath to admit it, but this particular detail gave him the creeps.
“Yes, we’ll call it off. Please, would you do it?”
“Okay,” Ludvig said.
“Did you circulate a description of the two men from the church?”
“That has already gone out,” Ludvig said.
“Good.”
Munch threw aside his cigarette and was about to light a fresh one when Karen appeared on the steps.
“Are you all right, Holger?” The strawberry-blond woman looked at him anxiously.
“Hi, Karen, yes, fine.”
“I don’t think you look too good. I mean, don’t you think you should get some rest?”
She stood very close to him. He could smell her perfume. He got a strange feeling he couldn’t quite identify until he realized what it was. She cared for him. She was looking after him. It had been a long time since someone had done that. Usually it was he, Holger Munch, who took care of everyone else.
“Are you busy?” Karen asked.
“I’m always busy.” Munch laughed and coughed slightly.
“You couldn’t spare just one hour?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on,” Karen said, grabbing the sleeve of his duffel coat.
“Where are we going?”
“Hush,” Karen said.
She pulled him up the steps, into the nursing home, down one of the corridors, and into an empty room.
“I haven’t got time for this,” Munch said, but Karen placed her finger on her lips.
“Do you see that bed over there?”
She pointed to a freshly made bed below the window. Munch nodded.
“And that door over there?”
Munch nodded a second time.
“Then I suggest that you take a shower. Afterward you lie down in that bed and get some sleep. I’ll wake you in one hour. No one will disturb you here.”
“No, I—”
“To be quite honest, you’re badly in need of both,” Karen said, wrinkling her nose. “You’ll find towels in the bathroom,” she added. “One hour, okay?”
She gave him a hug and left the room.
A one-hour nap. What harm could it do? Good for his brain. Good for his body. Good for everyone.
Munch sent a quick text to Ludvig with instructions about what Miriam and Marion needed in the apartment, passed on the shower, and collapsed on the bed, still fully dressed, and closed his eyes.