I’ve just been rereading my last post (thanks for the correction Tim, and yes, it’s a great movie!) and I laughed out loud at the phrase ‘brusquely frisking’.
Instantly a character popped into my head. A Scandinavian detective called Brusque Frisking.
I am going to start writing a series of novels with him as the main protagonist. He’s a world-weary sort of chap. Mid 40’s. Good at what he does if a little, err, brusque.
His mother, a one-time French TV star died in childbirth and Brusque’s father, a Norwegian diplomat living in Paris, took his son home to a remote town in the north of the country to grieve.
Frisking senior dies in a skiing ‘accident’ when Brusque is just 14 and the mysterious circumstances of his death are what drives the son’s determination to right wrongs, and yes, he enrols with the police as soon as he is old enough.
His early years are spent in Norwegian backwaters, breaking up fights between loggers and oil-rig workers until he gets a break.
A Swedish counterfeiting operation is using trails deep in the Norwegian hinterland to transport cash into Finland and from there down into Russia.
Brusque, engaging in a spot of night-fishing as his is wont, stumbles across two of the couriers and, faking his identity, infiltrates the set-up.
His bust is a resounding success. He is promoted and sent to Oslo forthwith.
But life in the big city is tough and all the while he is no nearer to solving the case of his father’s death…