Backlash Blues: A Nordic Noir, Private Detective Mystery by Amulya Malladi

Author:Amulya Malladi [Malladi, Amulya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nordic Noir
Published: 2024-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Friday Morning, October 14, 2023

As soon as I stepped into my office, I saw I had a guest. He was seated in one of the client chairs, his phone on my oak desk, which was made from a tree my father had helped cut with my grandfather when he was a teenager.

“Hello, Harald.” I put my Tumi bag on my desk.

“Good morning, Gabriel.” Harald Wiberg wore a well-fitted black suit that nevertheless made him look like an overweight mob boss.

I went about taking my coat, hat, and scarf off, and took my time hanging them in the closet. I removed my laptop from Tumi bag then, as if Harald wasn’t there, got settled in.

Finally, I sat down. “What can I do for you?”

“This is a nice office,” Harald said.

“Thank you.”

He stood up and walked up to the window behind me. I swiveled my chair as he stood with hands in his pocket, looking out at the stores across Gothersgade. I had a hand-waving relationship with the owner of the antique store Le Boheme Interieur, and I bought superior Peruvian coffee at Café Boheme.

“I hear that you’ve been talking to several employees from Copenhagen Bank,” he continued, still not facing me.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Harald turned then. “I would.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black with a teaspoon of sugar.”

I went to get coffee and found Erik, in the kitchen.

“What’s Harald Wiberg doing in your office?” he asked.

“I think he’s here to tell me stay off the Noor Mallik case.” I poured coffee into two cups.

“Why does he want you to stay off the case?”

I shrugged.

“What’s going on, Gabriel?”

“I’m trying to find out.”

I left Erik in the kitchen and went back to my office. Harald was still looking out of the window.

I extended his coffee cup toward him, which he accepted while leaning against the window. Settling back into my office chair, I faced him, and we both sipped our coffee.

“I can say a lot of things,” Harald was the first to speak. “Things like, nice office, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to it. Or nice house—”

“Someone already fucked that up,” I cut in with a broad smile.

“I heard.” He grinned. “So, we have assessed that we’re both sons of bitches who know how to one up each other. Now, let me tell you what I’m here to say. Noor Mallik committed suicide.”

“These days we actually say died by suicide.”

He chuckled. “If you try to talk to anyone at Copenhagen Bank, you'll be putting their jobs at risk, just as you did with Flora Brandt.”

I drank some more coffee.

“I hear you’ve become good friends with Noor’s cousin. The chef at Sapor. Nice restaurant.”

I said nothing, just sat serenely, not showing that he had scared me by mentioning Afsana.

Harald set his coffee cup on my desk and sat down across from me. I knew he was making me follow him around the room. I didn’t mind. I swiveled my chair to face him.

“I heard you got shot this summer. And you survived.

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