Cockroaches: The Second Inspector Harry Hole Novel (Harry Hole Series)
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When the Norwegian ambassador to Thailand is found dead in a Bangkok brothel, Inspector Harry Hole is dispatched from Oslo to help hush up the case.
But once he arrives Harry discovers that this case is about much more than one random murder. There is something else, something more pervasive, scrabbling around behind the scenes. Or, put another way, for every cockroach you see in your hotel room, there are hundreds behind the walls. Surrounded by round-the-clock traffic noise, Harry wanders the streets of Bangkok lined with go-go bars, temples, opium dens, and tourist traps, trying to piece together the story of the ambassador’s death even though no one asked him to, and no one wants him to—not even Harry himself.
prostitutes he had interviewed in a room like this, but it was not small. They seemed to be attracted to murder cases like flies around a cowpat. Not because they were necessarily involved, but because they invariably had a story to tell. He had heard them laughing, cursing and crying, he had become friends with them, he had fallen out with them, had struck deals with them, broken promises, been spat at and slapped. Nevertheless, there was something about these women’s fates, the circumstances
“Maybe not,” Liz said. “Anyway, it probably won’t get us very far.” She concluded the meeting by telling the rest of the team to spend the day doing neglected paperwork on cases which were dropped when the murder of the Norwegian ambassador was given top priority. “So we’re back to square one?” Harry asked, after the others had left. “We’ve been there the whole time,” Liz said. “Perhaps you’ll get what you Norwegians want.” “What we want?” “I talked to our Chief of Police this morning. He
on the iron, and for a brief second he resembled a tennis player serving before the hammer came down with immense power and smashed the lock with a bang. The next moment Harry was inside, and his torchlight was circling the room. He saw her immediately, but the light moved on, as if acting off its own instructions. Kitchen shelves, a fridge, a bench, a crucifix. He couldn’t hear the animal noises anymore. He was transported back to Sydney, and heard only the sound of chains, waves smacking
forward to seeing their surprised faces. Løken was only a couple of meters away and could make out the two people in the car. Suddenly he was unsure of himself. There was something about their appearance that wasn’t right. Even taking into account that policemen were not generally the smartest, they did at least know that discretion was the first commandment when you were tailing someone. The man in the passenger seat was wearing sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had set some time ago, and
good enough motive for Jens Brekke to kill three people. According to the will, Runa would inherit the money when she was of age, but as it doesn’t say anything about what happens if she dies, the money will obviously follow the line of inheritance. That is, the fortune will belong to Hilde Molnes. The will doesn’t prevent her from gaining access now.” “How’s Brekke going to make her give him the money?” “He doesn’t have to do a thing. Hilde Molnes has six months left to live. Long enough for