Wolves in the Dark Read online




  PRAISE FOR GUNNAR STAALESEN

  ‘Gunnar Staalesen is one of my very favourite Scandinavian authors. Operating out of Bergen in Norway, his private eye, Varg Veum, is a complex but engaging anti-hero. Varg means “wolf ” in Norwegian, and this is a series with very sharp teeth’ Ian Rankin

  ‘The Norwegian Chandler’ Jo Nesbø

  ‘Razor-edged Scandinavian crime fiction at its finest’ Quentin Bates

  ‘Not many books hook you in the first chapter – this one did, and never let go!’ Mari Hannah

  ‘With its exploration of family dynamics and the complex web of human behaviour, Staalesen’s novel echoes the great California author Ross MacDonald’s Lew Archer mysteries. There are some incredible set-pieces including a botched act of terrorism that has frightening consequences, but the Varg Veum series is more concerned with character and motivation than spectacle, and it’s in the quieter scenes that the real drama lies’ Russel McLean, Herald Scotland

  ‘There is a world-weary existential sadness that hangs over his central detective. The prose is stripped back and simple … deep emotion bubbling under the surface – the real turmoil of the characters’ lives just under the surface for the reader to intuit, rather than have it spelled out for them’ Doug Johnstone, The Big Issue

  ‘Norwegian master Staalesen is an author who eschews police procedural narratives for noirish private eye pieces … Staalesen dislikes Scandinavian parochial in his writing, and continues to work – bravely, some would say – in a traditional US-style genre, drawing on such writers as the late Ross MacDonald. Nevertheless, he is a contemporary writer; there is some abrasive Scandicrime social commentary here’ Barry Forshaw, Financial Times

  ‘If this is your first time reading a book in this series, some of which are yet to be translated, you’ll find yourself instantly warming to the strong yet sensitive Veum and the vivid self-reflections that punctuate his perambulations. His ongoing bouts with the tyrannies of alcoholism, which threaten to thwart his investigative efforts, are poignant, and the primal scene that forms the core of the mystery is equal parts shocking and ingenious. Almost forty years into the Varg Veum odyssey, Staalesen is at the height of his storytelling powers’ Crime Fiction Lover

  ‘Staalesen has created a sharp and intelligent but also vulnerable PI with whom the reader builds a strong rapport. The end of We Shall Inherit the Wind was a devastating blow to both parties and Where Roses Never Die is a shared recovery. Staalesen is an expert of his craft and once again he has delivered an absorbing mystery expertly solved by his endearing PI, Varg Veum’ Live Many Lives

  ‘Staalesen’s greatest strength is the quality of his writing. The incidental asides and observations are wonderful and elevate the book from a straightforward murder investigation into something more substantial’ Sarah Ward, Crime Pieces

  ‘Staalesen’s mastery of pacing enables him to develop his characters in a leisurely way without sacrificing tension and suspense’ Publishers Weekly

  ‘Gunnar Staalesen was writing suspenseful and socially conscious Nordic Noir long before any of today’s Swedish crime writers had managed to put together a single page … one of Norway’s most skillful storytellers’ Johan Theorin

  ‘An upmarket Philip Marlowe’ Maxim Jakubowski, The Bookseller

  ‘Staalesen proves why he is one of the best storytellers alive with a deft touch and no wasted words; he is like a sniper who carefully chooses his target before he takes aim’ Atticus Finch

  ‘There is a strong social message within the narrative which is at times chilling, always gripping and with a few perfectly placed twists and turns that make it more addictive the further you get into it’ Liz Loves Books

  ‘The prose is richly detailed, the plot enthused with social and environmental commentary while never diminishing in interest or pace, the dialogue natural and convincing and the supporting characters all bristle with life. A multi-layered, engrossing and skilfully written novel; there’s not an excess word’ Tony Hill, Mumbling about …

  ‘The plot is compelling, with new intrigues unfolding as each page is turned … a distinctive and welcome addition to the crime fiction genre’ Never Imitate

  ‘A well-paced, thrilling plot, with the usual topical social concerns we have come to expect from Staalesen’s confident pen…’ Finding Time To Write

  ‘We Shall Inherit the Wind brings together great characterisation, a fast-paced plot and an exceptional social conscience … The beauty of Staalesen’s writing and thinking is in the richness of interpretations on offer: poignant love story, murder investigation, essay on human nature and conscience, or tale of passion and revenge’ Ewa Sherman, EuroCrime

  ‘Quite simply, Where Roses Never Die is an exquisite work of crime fiction and Staalesen’s eye for characters is as finely honed as his readers have come to expect. Beautifully paced and making some wider statements on the repercussions of behaviour on impressionable youths and morality, this is the literary equivalent of manna from heaven!’ Rachel Hall

  ‘It’s cunningly plotted and kept me guessing right until the end, when I not only gasped but also shed a tear as all was revealed. A perfect choice for fans of Nordic Noir as well as intense, chilling crime fiction’ Off-the-Shelf Books

  ‘Where Roses Never Die is somewhat lighter in tone than previous instalments in Staalesen’s series. It even hints that Varg Veum’s lengthy romantic dry spell might be coming to an end. The author also does a superior job of building suspense in regards to both the kidnapping and robbery cases, stitching clues into his plot that leave one wondering about the crimes’ connections. His portrayals of the players involved in these puzzles benefit from multiple, gradually unfolding dimensions’ Kirkus

  ‘It isn’t just (or even primarily) a case of finding out “whodunit”. It’s not simply a “Where’s Wally” exercise in recognising the clues and putting them together with a “Hey, presto – he’s the murderer” outcome. The Scandinavian approach also focuses on the aftershocks. The sundering judders, shudders, waves and even ripples that spread out into the lives of people affected by the trauma of the central event. It’s at this that Staalesen really excels’ The Library Door

  ‘There is a claustrophobic feeling to the story, a sense of unease surrounding this seemingly tranquil suburb. Whilst everything may have appeared normal on the surface, there were secrets just waiting to emerge. This is a well-paced, suspenseful book that keeps you guessing until the very end’ Owl on the Bookshelf

  ‘Averse as I am to gushing, with some authors it’s difficult to remain completely objective when you have genuinely loved every single book that they have ever produced. Such is my problem – but a nice problem – with the venerable Mr Staalesen, and with Where Roses Never Die, which merely compounds my adoration of this series to date’ Raven Crime Reads

  ‘A brilliant crime thriller, which I absolutely loved. It reminded me slightly of an Agatha Christie novel, not because of the main character but because of the brilliance of how the whole plot is written and how it had me totally clueless as to how everything fits together and who is behind the disappearance of the young girl. Can’t recommend highly enough … this is one author whose books I will certainly be checking out and reading more’ By the Letter Book Reviews

  ‘This is really Scandinavian crime writing at its very best. There is something dark and haunting about this novel that will test every sinew of your emotions as the truth emerges’ Last Word Book Review

  ‘Where Roses Never Die is an exceptionally plotted, well written and hauntingly evocative lesson in Norwegian crime writing. I experienced a wide range of emotions while reading it, and in the interest of full disclosure, this Ice Queen shed some tears reading it! I cannot recommend this book
highly enough’ Bibliophile Book Club

  ‘This is the sort of crime novel to go for if you like brooding, rough round the edges heroes. The mystery itself takes us down a few misdirected paths, till eventually we see the shocking and sad hidden truth. Staalesen is critiquing the selfish human condition and how it brings about its own downfall. This is a fabulous and very accessible Nordic thriller, with a dark satisfying side’ Northern Crime

  ‘There are unexpected twists throughout the story, which are cleverly placed to make sure you keep turning the pages. It’s a very enjoyable read about a group of people who aren’t necessarily what they seem. Would I recommend this book? Definitely!’ Damp Pebbles

  ‘Where Roses Never Die is a wonderfully written novel that shows that what goes on behind closed doors is rarely what you would imagine. As long-buried secrets are unearthed, Staalesen takes his time to prolong the suspense about what has happened to this little girl, resulting in an enticing, gripping read’ Segnalibro

  ‘Once again, fluently translated from the Norwegian by Don Bartlett, Staalesen’s first-person prose is so meticulous, it could have been sculpted out of ice. There’s not a superfluous word as Veum edges closer to the frozen core of a truth buried away for decades, revealing as he does so dark and shocking tensions that have split apart the couples living near little Mette’s family. Superbly paced, taut and atmospheric, this is a beautifully crafted crime thriller that’s always full of humanity’ Claire Thinking

  Wolves in the Dark

  GUNNAR STAALESEN

  Translated from the Norwegian by Don Bartlett

  Contents

  Title Page

  Map

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  About the Author

  About the Translator

  Copyright

  1

  They came early – to catch me in bed. At seven I was woken by a loud, continuous ring on the bell downstairs. I staggered to the window, opened it and looked out.

  The police car was parked nose to the wall. In front of my door stood Inspector Bjarne Solheim, accompanied by his colleague Arne Melvær.

  ‘Veum?’ Solheim said. ‘Can we come in?’

  ‘Do I have the option to say no?’

  He turned an unsmiling face up at me and shook his head slowly.

  I closed the window, threw on a dressing gown, thrust my feet into a pair of slippers and trudged down the narrow staircase. I had barely opened the door before they were inside. Both eyed me warily.

  Solheim put his hand into an inside pocket and pulled out a folded document. His look was solemn as he said: ‘We have a warrant for your arrest, Veum. And a search warrant. Have you got a computer in the house?’

  I stared at him in shock. ‘Yes? A laptop. But—’

  ‘It’s confiscated. We’ll go up with you, so that you can put some clothes on. Afterwards you’ll have to accompany us to Police HQ.’

  I still wasn’t sure if I was awake or if all this was some bad dream. ‘Tell me … Are you serious? And what have I been arrested for?’

  ‘We can deal with that at the station. Hamre’s already waiting.’

  A few minutes later we were heading towards Allehelgens gate. Melvær was sitting with my computer on his lap, his facial expression suggesting he had been entrusted with the Crown Jewels. A few hours ago I had been as happy with my life as I was able to allow myself to be. Now I was sitting in the back of a police car, feeling like a naughty boy being summoned to the headmaster for no obvious reason.

  Outside the car, the town was waking up to a dull, grey September day. I could see it was going to be far different from the one I had imagined. I already envied those people getting out of the yellow buses to walk to an office or some other everyday job somewhere in town, anywhere but the police station.

  2

  Jakob E. Hamre, the section head, was about my age. In other words, he was fast closing in on retirement. Not even that thought made him a cheerier spectacle as he sat behind his desk, observing me with a face gloomier than that of a passport official at the pearly gates. His hair was greyer than when I had last seen him, nearly white in some parts. It was thinner than I remembered as well, unless he had just washed it.

  His eyes narrowed visibly as I sat down on the chair opposite him. ‘I would never have believed I’d experience this, Veum.’

  ‘We’ve sat like this on innumerable occasions, Hamre.’

  ‘Not like this.’ He looked down and flicked through some papers he had in front of him.

  I craned my neck to see what they could be. From a distance they looked like computer print-outs, but internet technology had never been my strongest suit. I was happy so long as my computer worked, I could get online, and send and receive emails.

  ‘I have a print-out here,’ he said, rather redundantly. ‘It’s a summary of the traffic on your office computer over the last six months. If we wish we can go even further back. The laptop we confiscated during your arrest will now be examined by our experts to compare, and perhaps document, similar content.’

  I felt my jaw drop. ‘Tell me … is that legal?’

  He nodded. ‘Court order.’

  ‘And what do you mean by “similar content”?’

  He sent me a stern gaze. ‘I reckon you can work that out for yourself.’

  ‘No, in fact I can’t. All I use the computer for is emails, banking, booking the odd ticket and various searches connected with work.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘And you’ve been working on cases that involve dubious content recently, have you?’

  ‘Dubious content?’ I wasn’t so stupid that I didn’t suspect where this was leading. Though I didn’t understand the how and why. ‘Could you perhaps be a little more explicit?’

  He heaved a heavy sigh, pushed some of the papers aside, leaned forward slightly and stared at me darkly. ‘Child pornography, Veum.’ He grimaced. ‘Of the most repugnant kind.’

  I could feel my body stiffening, the way muscles brace themselves in the face of an assumed danger. I still felt as if I were trapped in a bad dream, as though I had been transferred into a parallel existence where nothing was how it should be; or I was looking into a fairground mirror, struggling to recognise myself.

  I gesticulated with my right hand, a denial of everything. ‘I know nothing about this. This cannot possibly be right. And if it is…’

  ‘Yes?’ He fixed his eyes on me.

  ‘Then someone has got into my computer and left it there intentionally.’

  ‘Quod erat demonstrandum, Veum. That’s Latin, in case you didn’t know, and it means “that which was to be proved”.’

  ‘Well, I’ll help you in every way possible. You can rely on me!’ When he said nothing, I carried on: ‘Surely you can’t believe that I … that this is something I … that I would … I’m speechless.’

  ‘And perhap
s that shows the thin ice you’re walking on.’

  ‘Now, just listen here! I understand nothing about computers, except the essentials, as I told you. But surely you have experts who can examine this and … find out what happened?’

  ‘If someone hacked into your computer, as it’s called, it ought to be possible to find that out, yes. The problem, Veum, is that you are not on your own. Our raid today wasn’t some chance visit. This afternoon you’ll hear about it on the radio news. It’ll be on TV this evening and it’ll be splashed over all the newspapers for days.’

  ‘What will be splashed over the newspapers?’

  ‘Hordaland Police District, in co-operation with several other police districts in Norway, other European countries and, furthermore, the USA, in the early hours of this morning uncovered an international child pornography ring that distributes images over the internet. Arrests are being made in a number of countries. As well as you there are three other men in our district awaiting interrogation – either here, or in one case at a provincial police station. Your IP address appeared on this network with incoming and outgoing traffic.’

  ‘Incoming and outgoing?’

  ‘It means you’ve both received and sent … images that have been shared around the network.’

  ‘But, but…’ My face was taut, and all the muscles in my body, from the back of my head to the soles of my feet, were tensed. ‘This is absolutely incomprehensible! My God, Hamre. You’ve known me … for how many years?’

  He shrugged. ‘Too many, if you ask me.’

  ‘You can’t think … you can’t believe that I would be involved in this with my background – from Child Welfare officer to private investigator?’

  ‘I don’t want to believe it, Veum, but…’ Again he showed me the paperwork on his desk. ‘The evidence is weighty. And the case has to be examined. In the meantime you’ll be remanded in custody. No visitors and no mail of any kind.’

  At once I felt a deep fear shiver through my body and I wanted to open one of his desk drawers to see if he had a tiny bottle of aquavit waiting for me.

  ‘I assume you’re not going to make a confession?’