An Old Debt

by Doriana Cantoni

  "What can it be?"

  "I don't read anything else here. If you want, call the doctor and ask him his opinion."

  "Maybe I'll do it later. There's one last thing, did you have Knudsen and Skov checked on file?"

  "She's as clean as an angel, while they're still looking for the pastor. Since he took his vows about twenty years ago, we have nothing on him, but until he was thirty years old he lived here in Copenhagen. I had a couple of men do an in-depth search on what work he was doing before he entered the seminary and further back to the war years. You never know that something interesting turns up," said the superintendent.

  "It may be that the motive is much more recent, but killers always manage to amaze us," replied Lars. In his career, he had solved several cases that were absurd to say the least.

  "You're right, murderers can be creative. I'll send the forensics team to you right away. They should be there in an hour at the most. Make yourself heard tomorrow, and above all I recommend you: don't treat that reporter badly for any reason," concluded Nielsen, closing the communication.

  Petersen hung up in turn, but he didn't have time to do anything else, because immediately afterwards the radio started croaking.

  "Inspector, can you hear me? "said Toft’s voice to the speaker.

  Petersen took the microphone that was attached to the radio with a twisted hard plastic wire and he replied pressing a button, "Clear and strong, go ahead."

  "We have a problem here. I took Mrs. Rasmussen home and looked around as you asked. There was no trace of the dog, but then I got a hunch and hit the jackpot."

  "What did you find?" asked the inspector.

  "I checked the garbage bins, they were almost all empty but in the latter, which is a hundred meters in the direction of the village, I just found the dog's body. Someone threw it there, wrapping it in an old blanket, but the snout was half uncovered and I could see blood on it. It's a wolf dog and there is no doubt, I think, that it's Mrs. Rasmussen's dog," the boy said with some pride in his voice.

  Petersen jumped out of his chair when he heard that the dog was found. The assumption that the killer had entered the pastor's house suddenly became real. The poor dog must have heard him, starting to bark, and the killer had to keep him quiet.

  "Good work," he said to Officer Toft. "Don't touch anything. Forensics are on their way, and we'll have that bin checked first. Do you have a way to seal it?"

  "I have in my car the police tape that says 'crime scene'. I could put it all around the perimeter, it should be enough to discourage curious people."

  "I'm not sure, with the reporters still around. If they see it, they'll want to look right in and make a mess of it. Unfortunately, I don't see any alternative. You have to stop there and not let anyone approach. I'll send you the forensic team in an hour at the latest, and if there's anything new I'll get back to you."

  "All right," replied Toft uneasy, and hung up.

  While Petersen was thinking about the death of the dog and its implications, Lene had already arrived with Holst at Ingeborg Graf's shoe shop, where she had quickly purchased the boots for her and the inspector, then they had headed to Erik's pub.

  "Why don't we go somewhere else?" said Holst winking at her. "I know a nice restaurant not far from here and much more intimate."

  "Aren't you married?" asked Poulsen.

  Jens raised his eyes at that question, but he answered it anyway with a persuasive voice and a mischievous smile, "What's that got to do with it? My wife won't kill me if I have lunch with a colleague."

  "All right, it was just to avoid misunderstandings, since you’re not my type. Then we'll go to Erik," replied Lene in a tone of voice that didn't allow replicas.

  Holst looked at her very badly, bitterly repenting that he had considered her attractive, a bit like everyone who received a rejection, but he did not reply because she was a senior. Only when they were close to Erik's place did he say, "If you don't mind, I'd rather go home for a moment. I live nearby, and I think it's better."

  It was clear that he didn't want to stop and eat with her, that's why Lene answered, "Fine, I won't hold you back. I'll see you at the precinct in half an hour. I advise you not to keep us waiting, as Petersen does not forgive those who make the same mistake twice," and she let him go.

  Entering the pub, Lene saw that there were several tables taken up by locals, and the innkeeper was busy with a couple of customers in a discussion that seemed animated, so she didn’t stop and went directly to the counter to Helle, his daughter, saying, "I need you to make me a couple of sandwiches, then add two beers and a bottle of water. I'm taking everything with me to the precinct. While I wait, I'll go upstairs to my room and change my shoes, so I'll leave you the ones your father kindly lent me. The inspector will return the other pair that he’s currently using by the end of the evening, when we come back."

  The girl marked the order on a notebook she had in her pocket, and then said, "Okay, when you come back downstairs you'll find everything ready, however my father would like to talk to you. He's worried about one thing."

  "Any problems? Is it because of the reporters in the village?"

  "Those came back to the square a couple of hours ago, and they are giving the torment to all they meet, asking for interviews that nobody wants to do, but that's not it. Anyway, he'll tell you in person," Helle replied uncomfortably.

  "Okay, then I'll see you later," said Lene on her way up the stairs.

  About ten minutes later she was already back, with the shoes they had lent her in a bag.

  "Thanks again from my part, my colleague will return them tonight," she told the landlord who was waiting for her downstairs.

  Erik answered, "Don't mention it, for so little," but you could see that his mood had changed from the last time she had spoken to him.

  "Your daughter told me you wanted to talk," she said, seeing that he had trouble starting to do so.

  "Yes, to you or the inspector, and luckily you came alone, without Holst and Toft who are just incompetent guys like their chief. I'm sorry if I speak badly of your colleagues, but here we all feel a bit that way."

  "Go ahead," said Poulsen without commenting.

  "The thing is really delicate. I'd rather go to a more reserved place, and I must also introduce you to a person," continued Erik.

  "All right, as long as it doesn't take much time, because I have to get back to the precinct."

  "This is a matter of some importance, but it won't take more than a few minutes. If you have no objection, we can go to the kitchen," said the man, and he made his way behind the counter, signaling with his hand to a man sitting at a table, one of the two with whom Lene had seen him talking before, to join them.

  "This is Olaf Karlsen, an old friend of mine, and he has a problem," Ström said when they were inside the kitchen.

  "So you're the baker," she replied, shaking hands with the man.

  "It's me," said Karlsen. He was a tall man and had a strong body, with a thick beard, but his eyes seemed shy and frightened.

  "I see you have good memory," added the innkeeper, intervening in support of his friend. "His son is Svend and he just turned eighteen, he’s one year older than my daughter Helle. He didn't go to sleep home last night. Olaf didn't worry at first because the boy had gone to a friend, and then he thought he had stopped by him, but at noon he called to get some news. Svend wasn’t there. Jorgen told him they had parted last night at 11:00 p.m. right here in the square."

  "Where do you live?" Lene asked the father.

  "At about sixty meters in a side street. I just can't understand why he didn't come home," Karlsen said with a frightened look on his face. "My brother Birger and I searched the alleys around here. I even called some of his friends, but they didn't know where he could be. Svend is not the kind of guy who does stupid things, he's a good son."

  "Do you have a picture of him?"

  "His mother Adna has a drawer full of them, but I haven't told her anything yet,
so as not to worry her. She's a very sensitive woman, and I'm afraid she's going to be devastated if anything bad happened."

  "Can't you take one picture without her noticing? It's essential to the complaint."

  "Do you think that's really necessary?"

  "Absolutely. I don't want to frighten you, maybe your son just met some other friends and spent the night out, but with what happened to Pastor Knudsen and Ingrid Skov we have to take all the precautions. Why don't you come to the precinct? You may speak to Inspector Petersen, he’s my senior partner. Do it for your son."

  "Olaf, please, listen to her. More time you lose with your indecision, the worse can be for Svend," Erik told him.

  "Fine, but I'll only talk to this Petersen, you know what I think of those two other cops," the man replied.

  "Then we agree. I need to go, but you'll reach us as soon as possible and if you can with one picture of your son," said Poulsen, then she retrieved the plastic bag that Helle had prepared with the sandwiches and drinks, greeted them, and went out of the room.

  "I hope nothing happened to my Svend, otherwise I don't know how we're going to stand it," exclaimed Olaf, beating his fist on the kitchen table, then he went back to his brother. They spoke for a while in a low voice, so as not to be heard by the other customers, and finally they headed home to get the photo he had to take to the precinct.

  Lene entered the police station about ten minutes after leaving the pub, just as Petersen was rummaging through the paperwork on Toft's desk.

  "Are you looking for something in particular?" she asked him by placing the bag with the sandwiches and drinks on the coffee table, where the coffee maker was.

  "I'm just checking what they've been up to these last few months here at the precinct. I found a few reports on some theft, a couple of quarrels between neighbors, but the report on the alleged drug deal that Toft told us about and that was supposed to take place in the village is not there. It's gotta be in the sergeant's office, but the door is locked."

  "Did you also look at Holst's desk?"

  "Sure, before I started with this one. Same story, just traffic violations or other petty crimes. Why are you back alone?"

  "Officer Holst tried to play gallant with me, but it went badly for him, so he preferred to go back to his house. We should see him again in about ten minutes," said Poulsen, checking the wall clock that was marking 1:20 p.m. at the time.

  "Worse for him, he destroyed the little respect I still had for him," replied Petersen.

  "Speaking of other things, a man I just talked to in Erik Ström's pub will be here soon. His name is Olaf Karlsen and he's a baker. The son's been missing since last night. He said goodbye with a friend in the village square at eleven o'clock, but never arrived home and he lives right there. His father is very worried."

  "How old is he?" asked the inspector.

  "Eighteen years old. As I told his father, he may have met some other friends and stopped to sleep outside the house without thinking of warning, but he hasn't given any news since yesterday."

  "As soon as this Olaf arrives here, we will see if it is appropriate to investigate the disappearance, but the boy is of age. With all that we have to do with the Knudsen case, at the moment it does not seem to me a priority."

  "I agree with you," said Poulsen as she sat down.

  "As for our investigation, I have some interesting news," continued Lars. "Let's start with the first; Toft found Rasmussen's dog, but it was dead."

  "How did it happen?"

  "Unfortunately it was almost certainly killed last night, although we still don't know how. Our diligent young officer looked into the bins in the area, I don't know thanks to what insight, and the dog had been thrown into one of those closest to the town center. Someone had wrapped it in a blanket, maybe to keep it from being discovered. Toft says you can see blood on its snout, so it should have come out of some wound that caused its death. I asked him to stop on the spot and to make sure nobody touches anything, until I can send him the forensics."

  "Are they coming?"

  "Yes. I spoke on the phone with Superintendent Nielsen, and he told me that he would send them immediately. They're supposed to be here soon, and they're also going to search the pastor's house. It seems clear to me that the dog was killed by someone who was out last night in the neighborhood, and this reinforces the assumption that the man was our killer."

  "Almost certainly he suppressed the dog because it was about to have him discovered, since it had surely begun to bark," said Poulsen, then she pulled out of the bag one of the two sandwiches and a bottle of water. She was hungry and began to eat followed immediately by the inspector.

  He added after a few moments, "The other news is that I asked your colleague Janssen to join us. He'll be here shortly. You know we can't trust the two cops who patrol here, and Sergeant Lassen's gone. We need more cover."

  "I understand," replied diplomatic Lene.

  Poulsen did not want to give the impression that she was questioning the inspector's decisions, but Søren had been tormenting her for several months before it was sufficiently clear to him that her refusal was final. Since then, he had turned the whole team against her.

  "He won't annoy you any more, I just talked to him and he knows I wouldn't forgive him for any crap. You have to go beyond that and start working together."

  "All right, I don't have a problem with that," she said, hoping it would be the same for Janssen.

  "Have you seen the reporters around?"

  "No, but Erik's daughter, Helle, told me they came back for interviews, and the locals still didn't like it."

  "Nielsen warned me that there is a first channel reporter in town who has important connections, and therefore we must work with her. Her name is Susanne Hansen. She's your age, maybe a few years older, but she wouldn't admit it, not even under torture, so much she is vain. I'll describe her to you, so you can recognize her, because she likes to present herself under false name and employment. She is quite tall, almost as you, brown hair worn long, green eyes. Usually she works with a cameraman of Chinese descent. Do not be fooled by her angel face, because she is a shark in a skirt and would not hesitate to destroy you to get a scoop. I'm afraid she's coming in the afternoon for an interview. You keep your mouth shut, even if she asks you questions, let me do all the talking. I've dealt with her before, and I know how to treat her."

  "From the way you describe her, I'm glad I don't have to answer her questions," said Poulsen. She was about to add another comment, but she saw Olaf Karlsen and his brother coming.

  "Is it them?" asked Petersen.

  "Yes, he and his brother Birger. If you don't mind, I'd rather go out, so you can talk freely."

  "All right. I'll be quick anyway because both Janssen and the forensic team are about to arrive, and then we are also waiting at two o'clock the former housekeeper of Pastor Knudsen."

  Lene put her coat back on, opened the door, and greeted the two men, then she went out on the sidewalk to wait.

  The inspector had just begun to talk to the boy's father when a jeep arrived. It could hardly park in the snow heaps. Søren Janssen came out and began to look around with curiosity.

  Unlike his other colleagues at the police station, he wore long dark blonde hair and gave many people the impression of being a hippie, with his faded jeans and bright shirts under thick wool sweaters. That day he was wearing a leather-filled jacket, and his appearance seemed more in keeping with his role.

  "Hi, Lene," he said as he approached. "Fortunately, the innkeeper gave me detailed instructions, otherwise I would have trouble to find you."

  "Have you been to Ström?"

  "Yes, I'll sleep in the same room as Petersen, there are two twin beds. I left my stuff down and came right away. Why are you staying here in the open? Can’t we go inside?"

  "Not yet. There's a man in the office who has to report his son's disappearance. Last night he didn't come home after he had parted with a friend in the village square,
near where he lives."

  "Do you think it's something serious?"

  "It may be, but the boy has just become of age, and we still do not know if he has voluntarily left. With the complicated investigation we're working on, it's not exactly a priority."

  "Petersen confided to me that we can't trust our local colleagues, and it seems that the sergeant didn't even come to the office."

  "We haven't had the pleasure of meeting him and yes, it's true that the two cops who work here are quite weird. At this moment the youngest is checking out a garbage bin where he found a dead dog. We believe that our suspect killed it last night, when he was in the neighborhood to break into Pastor Knudsen's house. Almost certainly it had started barking and would attract attention."

  "The inspector hasn't told me about this."

  "Toft must have found it after you two talked on the phone," said Poulsen.

  "What's the other cop like?"

  "His name is Holst and he's not a hard worker. He didn't even show up at the office this morning, and we had to call him to have him come. Petersen suspects that he had his colleague do almost all the work. Earlier, we went out for a commission together, but we had a little discussion, and he went home to have lunch alone. He should be back here by now, even if he's late again," Lene said, controlling her watch.

  "Did he try to bother you?" Søren asked, pretending that he didn't care, but he already felt the blood in his veins boiling at the thought of that guy, despite the promise he had made to the inspector.

  "He wanted to flirt with me, but I clearly told him that he's not my type, and that's it. Think that he's also married, but obviously it didn’t bother him."

  "Those are the worst."

  "Anyway, he's coming, you'll get your own opinion," said Lene, observing Holst who had just come out of a side street.

  "Why are you standing out here in the cold?" asked the officer as soon as he joined them.

  "Dear colleague, this is Søren Janssen. He's the one with more seniority in our team, and we all consider him as Petersen's deputy. The inspector had him come from Copenhagen to help us out," replied Poulsen.