Black Seconds by Karin Fossum

Author:Karin Fossum
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Mystery And Suspense Fiction, Mystery & Detective - General, Police Procedural, Norwegian Novel And Short Story, Mystery & Detective, Mystery, Fiction - Mystery, Detective, Fiction, Missing persons, Mystery fiction, Mystery & Detective - Police Procedural, Thrillers, Suspense, General
ISBN: 9780156034043
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2009-07-13T09:38:50.830000+00:00

CHAPTER 16

‘What does the lab report say?’ Skarre asked. Sejer turned around slowly in his chair. He was holding a fax in his hand. ‘You were right about the duvet,’ he said. ‘The filling is synthetic. The down we found on the duvet and the nightie must have come from somewhere else. A bird, for example. This means there must have been a bird in the house where Ida was kept when she was wrapped in the duvet.’

‘What kind of bird?’ Skarre asked quickly.

‘They can’t say. These are minor coverts. They don’t have follicles, so they can’t be classified. They could belong to a chicken for all they know,’ he said.

‘Or a parrot,’ Skarre said eagerly. ‘What else did they find?’

‘A great deal, in fact,’ Sejer said. ‘Including traces of peanut shells, strands of Ida’s hair and other unidentified substances. They’re still working on those.’

‘That red feather, where do you keep it?’ Skarre said.

178

Sejer pulled open his desk drawer and found the white envelope.

‘There’s a pet shop three blocks from here,’

Skarre said. ‘Mama Zoona’s. Perhaps they sell parrots. Perhaps the bird which Ida wrote about was bought from Mama Zoona’s. They’re valuable birds; not everyone can afford them. Maybe they keep a sales record. There might even be some kind of caged bird society that he’s a member of. Or he goes there for bird supplies. They don’t just need food. Birds like that need all sorts of things. Toys. Vitamins. Things you can’t buy from the super market.’

‘You’re very well informed.’ Sejer was impressed.

‘I’ll go check it out,’ Skarre said, jumping up.

‘Can I get you anything?’ He was already halfway out of the door. ‘A white rat, perhaps? A couple of goldfish?’

Sejer looked rather alarmed at his suggestion. ‘I’ll call Snorrason,’ he said. ‘He says Ida died from internal injuries. How do you sustain internal injuries?’

‘A fall from a great height?’ Skarre suggested.

‘That’s one possibility.’

‘Blows or kicks,’ Sejer said. ‘Or from a collision.’

‘But her bicycle was undamaged.’

‘Perhaps she wasn’t on her bicycle at that moment.’

‘Why wouldn’t she be?’

‘Dear God, I don’t know. But surely people do get off their bicycles sometimes,’ Sejer said. At that very 179

moment he started scratching the back of his leg. His psoriasis was bothering him. Then he rubbed his eyes hard for a long time. Looked up at his young colleague, who was still waiting in the doorway.

‘You’ve just burst several blood vessels,’ Skarre said.

The name Mama Zoona’s made him think that the shop would belong to a brisk and efficient woman. But a man of about thirty introduced him self as the owner.

‘Bjerke,’ he greeted Skarre. The distinctive smell of animals and animal feed, pungent, but not unpleasant, filled the whole room. It was hot in there and the humidity was high.

‘You sell birds?’ Skarre asked, listening to the noises coming from another room. Bjerke nodded. Piercing screams and an excited twitter could be heard.

Skarre went into the room. He stopped. There were yellow, green and blue budgies. Cockatoos. Macaws, a raven, several

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