Henning sits down at his workstation and rubs his face with his hands. The chair opposite him is empty. Thank God Iver is going to be okay, he thinks, relieved. Even though he knows that Iver is entirely responsible for his own actions, he wouldn’t have been in hospital if it hadn’t been for Henning.
He stares into the air. Given the police now believe that Tore Pulli was murdered, they may already have requested the call logs from Oslo Prison to find out what kind of contact he had with the outside world. Or perhaps they haven’t. They think that Orjan Mjones is behind Pulli’s death. So why bother with the logs? They are going to be more interested in who Mjones was talking to.
On his way back to the office, Henning calls Knut Olav Nordbo at Oslo Prison and learns that an inmate’s telephone records are deleted if they die or when they are released and that this happens in a matter of days. In other words, it may already be too late. He will never be able to access the logs himself, but the police could if they obtained a court order.
So Henning rings Nokleby. From her tired, fed-up voice he realises that skipping the social niceties is a wise move. He also resists the temptation to ask if she still believes that Tore Pulli was guilty of the murder of Jocke Brolenius.
‘I’ll be quick,’ he begins. ‘As far as Tore Pulli is concerned, have you allocated all your resources to Orjan Mjones now or are you still pursuing other leads?’
‘Still pursuing other leads.’
Henning waits for more, but nothing comes. ‘Can you tell me anything about the leads you’re following up?’
‘Not at this moment in time, no,’ she says in a guarded tone.
‘Do you have any theory as to why Tore Pulli had to die?’
‘No comment.’
Henning hesitates. ‘What about Tore Pulli’s telephone records from prison, have you asked to see them?’
Nokleby doesn’t reply immediately. Then she says, ‘I can’t discuss specific details of the investigation with you, Henning.’
He sighs. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you were to look at those logs.’
‘Yes, I imagine you do.’
Henning lets the slightly ironic remark pass unchallenged. ‘I have nothing else. Oh, yes, are you going to the funeral tomorrow?’
‘We haven’t decided yet.’
‘I see. Well, I’m going.’
‘Okay. Do let us know if you see anything which you think might be a good idea for us to follow up.’
‘I’ll… ’ Henning breaks off and smiles wryly. And when Nokleby ends the call shortly afterwards without saying goodbye, his smile is even broader.