by Sara Blaedel
“Can we meet?” Camilla said, instead of defending herself.
“I can’t, we have a lot of paperwork to go through.” She sensed her friend’s disappointment.
“I had a visit from the Finn on Friday.”
Louise perked up. “What do you mean ‘visit’?”
“He caught up to me when I came home. Markus is at his father’s until the day after tomorrow, and I was late getting home, a little past eleven. We drank a beer and talked. He told me that Klaus West had been arrested.”
Louise’s heart began pounding. “You let him in your apartment, you drink a beer with him like he’s some old friend—are you crazy? Don’t you understand who these people are?”
“I really didn’t have much choice,” Camilla said.
“What did he say?”
“He said it was common knowledge that Klaus West was tired of Frank. It had to do with Frank threatening to write something.”
She had Louise’s attention. “Have you spoken to the police?”
“I called Birte Jensen. We’re going to meet in an hour.”
“Good. Did you ever find out who sent you the flowers?”
“Never did, but they’re still looking good.” Camilla wants to lighten the mood, Louise thought.
“There’s that. It might be a long time before Mr. Anonymous sends you more!”
“Can you stop by this evening, so I can tell you how it went with Jensen? And I want to explain about the article.”
“All right. I’ll call when I know when I can get out of here.”
Camilla pulled on her raincoat and unlocked her bike. She’d thought about taking a cab to Police Headquarters before deciding to tough it out and bike over. She had twenty minutes before meeting with Jensen. It was pouring, and she tied the hood of her raincoat tight and took off.
She parked her bike in the bicycle rack outside the building, walked over to the guard, and told him Jensen was expecting her.
“No answer at Birte Jensen’s office,” he said. “I’ll try one of the others.”
She smiled at him and loosened her hood.
He wrote down her name and time of arrival, and he handed her a visitor card. “Someone else will meet you. Go on up.”
Camilla thanked him and entered the round courtyard. Her steps echoed on the stairs. Outside Narcotics and Licensing, she took off her raincoat, smoothed her skirt, and fussed a second with her hair. A young man with an outstretched hand met her, and after introducing himself, he led her into the Narcotics chief’s reception.
“Birte Jensen is in the basement for a minute,” he said.
“That’s fine, I’ll wait.”
Camilla sat down in the chair he pulled out for her. She accepted his offer of coffee and resigned herself to having to wait.
Fifteen minutes later, Jensen walked in with a large black briefcase under her arm. She glanced at her watch when she noticed Camilla and apologized for the delay. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said.
Camilla finished her coffee. Another five minutes passed before the door opened, and Camilla was waved in.
“Would you like more coffee, or perhaps some water?” Jensen asked.
“I wouldn’t mind another cup,” Camilla said, regretting that she’d thrown her plastic cup away.
Jensen opened the door and asked the young man to bring a pot of coffee in.
“Now,” she said, after sitting down at the massive table across from Camilla. “You had a visit, you say?”
“Yes.” Camilla filled her in on what the Finn had told her about Klaus West. “It seems that it’s common knowledge he’s behind the murder, that he even might have done it himself.”
Jensen nodded as Camilla spoke. “Did he say anything about where West lived?”
Camilla shook her head.
“He owns a few places; we’ve searched them. Not in connection with the murder, but during narcotics raids. There was no sign of him living in any of them. He was at the Royal Hotel, but he wasn’t registered.”
Camilla told about meeting Klaus West and the white-haired man, emphasizing that she didn’t realize who they were when she was with them.
“Snow,” Jensen said. She wrote the name on her notepad. “It doesn’t surprise me. He has no permanent address, either. It would be a great help if you could find out from the Finn where the two of them live. They must have an apartment we don’t know about.”
The Narcotics leader looked grim.
“Don’t you normally wiretap people’s cell phones?”
“No doubt he uses burners, a type of prepaid phone.”
“How did you find him Friday?”
“He was seen at the King’s New Square by an officer on patrol. It’s not as if he’s trying to hide.” Jensen leaned toward Camilla. “But he’s only seen when he doesn’t mind being seen.”
Camilla nodded.
“Try to find out if he uses some apartment as a base. Of course, we’re working on that, too, but there’s no doubt it’s easier for you to sniff around. And I have something for you. Quid pro quo.”
Camilla brought out her notepad and bit the cap off her pen.
“We’re certain that Klaus West is behind the murder of Frank Sørensen.”
Camilla felt a metallic taste in her mouth; she’d bitten the inside of her cheek as Jensen spoke.
“He was at the hotel, and we know he was down in the courtyard.”
Camilla looked up from her notepad. “Do you have witnesses?”
Jensen studied her a moment. “I saw him.”
“Can I write that?” Camilla asked, excited now.
Jensen nodded.
“Has he been charged with murder?”
“Yes, but we’re working against the clock, because we can’t hold him much longer without more concrete evidence.”
Camilla frowned in concentration. Here was a man who moved around in the center of town with the police on his heels, yet they couldn’t keep track of him. Clearly, he knew what he was doing. And it wouldn’t make things easier if he were set free and could cover up where he’d been lately. If he already hadn’t done so. “What about a custody extension?”
“Our prosecutor isn’t optimistic. West’s lawyer is John Bro, and he’s good at what he does. We know that from experience.”
Pause. “Will you try?” Jensen asked, her eyes pleading.
Camilla nodded, though she wasn’t wild about meeting the Finn again. She didn’t want to owe him anything.
They shook hands, and Jensen followed her out and down the hall. “Call me when you get hold of him,” she said, and walked back to her office.
Camilla handed the visitor card to the guard. Her head was swimming as she biked back to the paper. It sickened her that she’d drunk champagne with the man who had killed Frank. Unfuckingbelievable, she thought as she locked her bike.
Back in her office, Camilla read Søren Holm’s article in the day’s paper about Klaus West’s arrest. Because there was a publication ban on his name, Holm had simply written that the police had arrested a man well-known in the drug underworld. The article didn’t mention anything about evidence. Should she tell Holm about her meeting with Birte Jensen?
Someone pounded on the door; she stood, but before she could say a word, it opened. For a split second she thought it was the photo editor. It was a relief to see Holm appear. “Hi,” she said. Then she got a good look at his face.
“Sit,” he ordered, nodding at her chair as he walked in. She sat down stiffly, awkwardly.
He leaned across her desk. “I just talked to a guy who tells me you’ve been asking around for a police snitch.” He leaned farther forward. “You need to stop.”
She gaped at him.
“I also heard you were out drinking with Klaus West last Thursday. What the hell’s going on? Is there something we should know?”
Her skin tingled as she sank deeper in her chair. Holm stared at her in anger as she thought about explaining herself, but it didn’t lo
ok like he was finished.
He sighed and sat down. “And I heard you just got back from a meeting with Birte Jensen.”
He picked up a pen off her desk and tossed it from one hand to the other. “Camilla, things are hectic right now. Believe me, this is no time to get involved with these people.”
She had trouble breathing, but she managed to hold back her own rage.
“I get it, you want to develop your own sources, working in a place like this, but leave Birte Jensen to me. Things aren’t as simple as they seem.”
Again, she was about to lash back at him. He made her feel like some intern. Something told her, though, that his anger came from her knowing more about the case than him. Of course that annoys him, she thought. Her self-confidence returned, and she straightened up and tried to look unaffected by his tongue-lashing.
“The police are sure Klaus West is the murderer,” she said, without blinking. “They have a witness placing him at the crime scene, and Jensen wants me to help find the apartment he’s staying in.”
She knew that sounded arrogant, and she was sorry for it. He peered at her but held his tongue. She lowered her voice. “I haven’t written a word about this, so I can’t see that I’m stepping on your toes here.”
“Camilla, you have to pull out of this. Give me a little time and I’ll tell you why—just let me look around for the apartment.”
Before she could protest, he said, “It’s no coincidence that Frank was killed.” After a few moments, he added, “It’s too dangerous. I’ve talked to Høyer; you’re off this story.”
She was boiling; why didn’t they just fire her? It was incredible how everything was turning to shit. She could see in his eyes that he knew she was about to explode.
“Camilla, I’m not saying all this to make you feel bad,” he said, milder now. “Some really shitty stuff is going on, and it’s best you don’t get involved until it’s all settled.”
She sat stone-faced as he stood up to go. He turned to her with his hand on the doorknob. “If you promised Jensen anything, just drop it,” he said, his tone sharp again. “Tell her you’ve been taken off the story, and if she wants something, she should call me.”
He left. “Fuck you,” she said. She stood up and paced, took several deep breaths.
Louise walked into Camilla’s apartment just past seven. It seemed empty without Markus, and things were a bit tense until Louise was convinced that her friend had hated having to write the article about Karoline’s little brother. They sat down on the couch, a pot of tea on the coffee table, and Camilla talked about her latest meeting with Jensen and being bawled out by Søren Holm.
“I just can’t see what the hell he’s up to,” Camilla said.
Louise thought for a moment. “Why do you think he’s necessarily up to something? What he told you makes perfect sense to me.”
Camilla gazed at her. Louise knew what she’d said had gone in one ear and out the other. “It’s like he’s pissed at me for being in contact with Jensen. I’ll be the one who’s pissed off if it turns out he’s trying to ruin that for me.”
“I saw him at headquarters when I left; don’t you think he has his own sources? He looked a lot better than the other day, too, outside Forensic Medicine.”
Camilla pulled a heavy blanket up over her, leaving only her head visible. “Maybe I should just do what he says, leave everything to him and focus on writing about Karoline’s murder. I take it from what Suhr said that you got some good leads from the canvassing.”
Louise was startled; the canvassing had been a total washout, but she did her best to not reveal Suhr’s bullshit. She nodded.
“He didn’t elaborate,” Camilla continued, obviously struggling to not pump her for information. Then she closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the sofa.
“I don’t even feel like going to work with all those idiots cussing me out all the time.”
“Oh, come on.” Louise leaned closer to her. “You’re taking it way too personally.”
Camilla blinked a few times and breathed deeply. “Maybe you’re right.”
Louise changed the subject. “It’s odd that Holm looks like a respectable family man one day, and a bum the next. A big contrast.”
“Most of the time he’s a family man.” She straightened up and flung the blanket to the floor. Her crisis had blown over. “But he didn’t even make it home until several days after Frank was murdered. Usually he’s the distinguished type. His wife is a schoolteacher, and when you see him with his family, it’s hard to imagine he’s as hard-core as he is.”
Louise nodded as Camilla talked about a Christmas party at the paper that he, his wife, and his two daughters attended. The oldest daughter was a tall, beautiful girl of eighteen; the youngest girl’s confirmation was in a few months.
“Why does Jensen want you to talk to the Finn again?” Louise said.
“To find out where Klaus West lives. He won’t tell them, and they can’t find it.”
Louise frowned. “And it’ll be easier for you than for all the rest of her people?” Her question hung in the air as she headed for the bathroom.
The teapot was full again, and their legs were pulled up under them on the sofa. Louise told her friend about the job offer Peter had in Scotland.
“Sounds exciting. Scotland is fantastic, and surely there are plenty of pubs to go to?”
Louise set her teacup down and gaped at her friend. “Pubs?” Maybe she shouldn’t have started in on this with Camilla. “Of course there are pubs, just like here in Copenhagen! But Peter wants me to take a leave of absence and go to Aberdeen with him for six months. And I can’t do that.”
“Why not? The police give leaves of absence. Heilmann just got one.”
“Yeah, but I can’t just go over there and do nothing that long.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
Louise scowled. “I don’t want to. I can’t see myself puttering around while Peter’s at work.”
“Then he’ll just have to go without you.”
“He won’t. He’ll only take the job if I go along.”
Camilla slammed her cup on the table. “So go, God damn it! You have to; you have a man who’s fantastic at what he does. Somebody found out they need what he can do, and here Little Miss I’m Only Interested in Myself won’t give him his chance. Great, Louise!”
If they didn’t know each other so well, Louise would have slapped her. But this was what happened when she discussed family matters with her friend.
Camilla leaned back on the sofa. “Life is also about appreciating what you care about,” she said, calmer now.
Heilmann’s words played in Camilla’s voice. She leaned her head back, too. “Peter’s important to me. I love him, and that’s why it’s fine for him to be gone for six months. I won’t love him any less.”
“For the last three years he’s been there for you, like when he backed you up before you got the job at Homicide, when you had doubts about ever getting your dream job.”
Louise listened now without arguing.
“You could lose him.”
An hour later, as she walked down the steps, her doubts were tearing her apart. She didn’t want to lose Peter, and she forced herself to think about taking a leave of absence. At the same time, she felt a noose around her neck. It wasn’t going to work.
16
At five fifty-two a.m., the body of a journalist, Søren Holm, was found in a courtyard on Vestergade close to the Town Hall,” Suhr said as he began the Tuesday morning briefing in the lunchroom. “He was found in a basement stairway, and he was murdered the same way as Frank Sørensen. At least this is what we’re assuming now.”
Louise had arrived late. She and Peter had lain in bed, talking late into the night. She’d tried to convince him that her not wanting to go to Scotland wasn’t because she didn’t love him enough. She wasn’t sure she’d succeeded, but when she said she had over three weeks’ comp time due, three weeks she would s
pend in Aberdeen, he’d finally decided to take the job, even though she was staying home.
She’d barely sat down when the briefing started. Immediately she’d noticed there weren’t as many people there as usual, and seconds later her blood froze at hearing whose body had been found.
Suhr looked tired as he leaned on the edge of the table. “The garbage collectors found him. I got a call at six fifteen. The doctor was already there; he pronounced the victim dead. I arrived just after the techs, and we all agree they were killed the same way. The pathologist examined the puncture wound on his neck, but she wouldn’t comment on it. She hadn’t seen Sørensen’s wound; she could only state that they were similar. Two of the techs there had observed Sørensen’s autopsy, and they were sure the wound was in the same place.”
He surveyed the detectives at the two tables. He was stone-faced. “Ten days have gone by since the first murder. We have the killer, and yet another body shows up.”
He began to pace the floor. “We’ll release the name of the victim later this morning. It’s to our advantage to keep his identity secret as long as possible, but that’ll be difficult.”
He looked up at the two rows of fluorescents illuminating the entire lunchroom. “It wouldn’t surprise me one damn bit if the reporters already know. Several photographers were out on the street where the body was found while I was there.”
Toft raised his hand. “Was he killed there?”
Suhr looked at him and swiped his forehead. “We think so, but it’s too early to say. He could’ve been killed in an apartment and dragged down to the courtyard. Frandsen from Forensics is coming in at ten, and we’ll go through what we have.”
Louise raised her hand, and he nodded at her. She suggested that Holm might have been looking for the apartment Klaus West was staying in. The others stared at her.
“Is this something you know, or are you guessing?” Suhr asked.
“I know he was aware that such a place existed, and he wanted to find it. I’m guessing he might have succeeded.”