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Fallen Angels

Gunnar Staalesen
Contents ( 56)
  1. Fallen Angels
  2. FALLEN ANGELS
  3. CONTENTS
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
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  52. 49
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  54. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  55. ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
  56. COPYRIGHT
cover

i

When Bergen PI Varg Veum finds himself at the funeral of a former classmate on a sleet-grey December afternoon, he’s unexpectedly reunited with his old friend Jakob – guitarist with the once-famous 1960s rock band The Harpers – and his estranged wife, Rebecca, Veum’s first love.

Their rekindled friendship is thrown into jeopardy by a horrific murder, and Veum is forced to dig deep into his own adolescence and his darkest memories, to find a motive … and a killer.

Tense, vivid and deeply unsettling, Fallen Angels is the spellbinding, award-winning thriller that secured Gunnar Staalesen’s reputation as one of the world’s foremost crime writers.ii

iii

Fallen Angels

GUNNAR STAALESEN

Translated by Don Bartlett

v

FALLEN ANGELS

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vii

As part of the story in this book takes place in an easily recognisable church in Bergen, primarily for geographical reasons, it is appropriate to emphasise that both the priest and organist of this church, along with all the other featured characters, are purely products of the author’s imagination and have no connection with reality.

—GS

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‘And suddenly everyone went quiet because they discovered there was bright daylight outside, even though it was midnight, and that the Angel Gabriel – his arms raised against the wall like an espalier – was watching them silently through the window “with eyes more beautiful than wine”.’

—Alain-Fournierx

CONTENTS

  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. EPIGRAPH
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  54. ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
  55. COPYRIGHT

1

1

The funeral took place on a Friday. It was ten days into December and the air was grey with sleet.

I met Jakob Aasen outside the chapel. At first I hardly recognised him. He had grown a beard and his dark, tightly curled hair was speckled with grey.

For an instant we stood looking at one another. Then he smiled tentatively, while I nodded a kind of acknowledgement.

‘Varg?’

I nodded. ‘Jakob…?’

We shook hands.

‘How long is it since we…?’

I shrugged. ‘1965.’

‘Yes, but … surely we must’ve seen each other since then.’

‘Couple of times in the street maybe. By chance. Have you been in Bergen the whole time?’

‘More or less. And you?’

‘Yes, at any rate since 1970.’

‘Sixteen years – and we’ve barely seen each other.’

‘How many of the others from the class have you seen?’

He looked around. ‘Well, now you’re asking.’

‘Life’s like that. We all go our various ways, following the beaten track to the water hole and back, year after year. You can live a whole life in Bergen without meeting a classmate who lives two blocks along. He goes one way, to his work. You go another. And never the twain shall meet.’2