Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

have been that Folkestad had a propensity to fall in love with such types. Nor was it improbable that someone with Folkestad’s paranoid schizophrenic symptoms might have murdered Gusto out of jealousy or for a whole string of other reasons based on delusions as a result of a profound psychosis, though this might not necessarily have been noticeable to the outside world. Here Ståle had attached notes from the time Arnold Folkestad had worked in Kripos and come to him complaining about hearing voices. Even though psychologists had long concurred that hearing voices was not always synonymous with schizophrenia, Aune had tended to the view that in Folkestad’s case it was and started preparing a diagnosis that would have finished Folkestad’s career as a detective. But it had never become necessary to send the report as Folkestad decided to resign after telling Aune about his approach towards an unnamed colleague. He had also terminated the treatment and thus disappeared off Aune’s radar. However, it was clear that there had been a couple of events that might have triggered his deterioration. One was the head injuries he had received which had necessitated a longish stay in hospital. There was significant research showing that even light blows to the brain could cause behavioural changes, such as increased aggression and decreased impulse control. The blows, incidentally, bore a likeness to those he dealt to his victims. And the second event was the loss of René Kalsnes, with whom, witnesses’ testimonies suggested, he had been wildly, almost manically, in love. It was no surprise that Folkestad had concluded what he obviously regarded as his mission by taking his own life. The only caveat had to be that he hadn’t left anything in writing or said anything to justify what he had done. It was normal for megalomaniacs to feel a need to be remembered, understood, declared a genius, admired and to find a well-deserved place in history.
    The psychological report had been well received. It was the final piece in the puzzle, Mikael Bellman had said.
    But Ståle Aune had a suspicion that it was another aspect which had been of paramount importance for the police. With this diagnosis he put an end to what otherwise could have become a bitter and problematic issue: how could one of the force’s own men be behind the massacre? Folkestad was only an ex-policeman, it was true, but nevertheless, what did this say about the profession and what did it say about the culture inside the police force?
    Now they could shelve the debate because a psychologist had concluded that Arnold Folkestad had been insane. Insanity has no cause. Insanity just is, a kind of natural disaster that strikes out of the blue, the kind of thing that can happen. And afterwards you have to get on with your life because what else can you do?
    That was how Bellman and the others reasoned.
    That was not how Ståle Aune reasoned.
    But it would have to rest for now. Ståle was back in his consulting room full-time, but Gunnar Hagen had said he would like to have the Boiler Room gang as a unit permanently on call, a bit like Delta. Katrine had already been offered a job as a detective in Crime Squad and had accepted it. She claimed she had several compelling reasons to move from her wonderful, beautiful Bergen to the wretched capital.
    The organist started up, Ståle could hear the creak of the pedals, and then came the notes. And then the bride and groom. Now the newly-weds. They didn’t need to nod left and right, there were so few people in the church you could encapsulate them all in one glance.
    The party afterwards was to be at Schrøder’s. Harry’s watering hole was of course not quite what you associated with a wedding celebration, but according to Harry it had been Rakel’s decision, not his.
    The guests turned and followed Rakel and Harry, who continued past the empty rows of pews at the back towards the door. Towards the June sun, Ståle thought. Towards the rest of the day. Towards the future. The three of them, Oleg, Rakel and Harry.
    ‘Oh, Ståle,’ Ingrid said, tugging the handkerchief from his breast pocket and handing it to him.
    Aurora sat on the bench and could hear from the cheering that her teammates had scored again.
    It was the second match today they were on their way to winning, and she reminded herself that she had to text Dad. Actually for herself she didn’t much care whether they won or lost, and Mummy definitely didn’t