Where Roses Never Die Read Online Free PDF Page A

seen, a Dankertus Muusius, with a much-used spade in his hand, staring at me as if I were a murderous Spanish slug that had strayed into Paradise without a visa from El Supremísimo.
    ‘So this is where you bury your bodies, Muus.’
    He stared at me in disbelief. ‘Veum! What the hell are you doing here?’
    ‘Inspecting the cemetery.’
    ‘I really thought I’d seen the last of you.’
    ‘So you haven’t missed me?’
    ‘Not for a second, Veum. Not one single second.’
    I approached warily, keeping an eye on the spade in case he should strike.
    He had aged in these ten years as well. His body didn’t have the same brutal mass I remembered from when he was an inspector atBergen Police Station, and, even though I had succeeded in inflaming his temper once again, he didn’t have the same fire as before. His hair had gone white, his skin was grey and he hadn’t quite dealt with all the stubble when he had shaved that morning. His gaze was as dismissive as always and he caught me by surprise when he thrust out a huge paw to shake hands and said: ‘I was sad to hear about your partner, Veum.’
    I swallowed. ‘So you heard about it then?’
    ‘I still talk to some of the folk at the station. Jakob pops by once a month.’
    ‘Hamre?’
    He nodded. ‘He’s getting close to retirement as well now.’ Then he added, not without a hopeful glint in his eye: ‘But you must be too, aren’t you?’
    ‘No, no. People like me haven’t got such an early retirement age as you, you know. And I have nothing to fall back on, yet. Less than nothing, actually.’
    ‘Well…’ He looked around. ‘I love doing this. Gardening. I don’t suppose you’d have believed that, would you?’
    ‘No, you’re right there. I’ve never seen you as the crocus type.’
    ‘But in fact I have been for many years.’
    ‘You can see how well we knew each other.’
    ‘Yes.’ He looked at me gravely. ‘So what brings you here after all these years?’
    ‘A case you worked on during your spell at the station.’
    ‘Thought so.’
    ‘I believe it was known as “The Mette Case”.’
    A shadow flitted across his face and his eyes darkened even further. ‘I see.’
    ‘You remember it, of course.’
    He nodded. ‘Yes indeed. But not in detail, it’s so long ago. Has someone contacted you about it?’
    ‘The mother.’
    ‘Right.’ He waved his hand in the air, struggling to find her name.
    ‘Maja Misvær.’
    ‘Yes, that’s it. I remember her. She was absolutely hysterical, of course. Couldn’t understand how we could draw a blank.’
    ‘Not hard to see why.’
    ‘No-oo.’ He hesitated, even after so many years. ‘But … you never forget cases like these, Veum. A small child and an unsolved crime. Sometimes I still wake up in the middle of the night and lie there thinking about precisely this case. And a couple of others. Not so strange, perhaps. The unsolved cases are always on your mind.’
    ‘Could you give me the gist of the investigation? Even if you can’t remember the details.’
    He grimaced. ‘I fail to see what a hobby-detective like you can do, and after so many years. But … better to leave no stone unturned.’ He nodded towards the house. ‘It’s too cold to stand out here. Let’s go in for a cup of coffee.’
    Muus kicked the soil off his heavy boots and rammed the spade into the bed as a reminder that the day’s work was not yet done. He removed his sturdy gardening gloves and stuffed them in the grey-brown parka he obviously wore outdoors over dark-blue waterproof trousers so that he could kneel down without getting soaked to the skin. Then he led the way to the house and a veranda door at the back.
    We went on to the veranda, he pulled off his boots, motioned for me to do the same with my shoes, and then we padded into the kitchen in stockinged feet, where Fru Muus had telepathically already put on the coffee machine. Neither of them said a word to the other, but Muus articulated a few growls,