by S. J. Gazan
“‘Dear Vibe,’ Knud whispered to me. ‘Please don’t tell him. Leave it alone. We have peace at last.’ He beseeched me. I said I would think about it. Elvira knew nothing, neither did you, but in the days that followed, Knud looked at me, observed me, hoping and praying. All of a sudden telling you seemed pointless. You were seventeen years old and at high school. You were head of the student council, sporty, clever, popular, and easy-going. Why would I reveal a secret that appeared to have had no ill effect on you? I asked you about Peter and Kristine. You never wondered why; after all, I had just learned that your parents were really your grandparents, so you answered me willingly. You said, of course you thought about your parents from time to time, especially when Knud and Elvira mourned them at Christmas and on Kristine’s birthday in May, when Elvira and Knud would light a bonfire in the garden, even if it rained. You were supposed to look a lot like your dad, and it might have been fun to have a dad you looked like. But Knud and Elvira were the best parents you could wish for and, at this point, your eyes always grew tender and compelling. Think of all the fun we have, you said. And you did. The house was full of life.
“I met with Knud and told him my decision. He was relieved. My knowledge of your secret faded into the background. We left high school, we moved in together, life was easy. You applied to the police academy,” Vibe smiled, “and, at the time, I never wondered why you were so preoccupied with mysteries. We were good together; our relationship grew stronger. It wasn’t until I wanted to have children that the secret surfaced, when you simply said ‘no’ without any explanation. I forced you to dig deeper, but all I could deduce from your many excuses was that you were scared. Why would you be scared of having children? We were in our late twenties and we loved each other. Or, at least, I believed we did.” She glanced up at him. “And you clearly had the capacity for loving a child. You had been loved yourself and you were good with children, I had seen you with them. You can’t fake something like that. The only explanation that made sense was that the secret terrified you subconsciously. In your mind children were abandoned, lying alone in a room with a high ceiling and no one coming to get them… so no wonder you didn’t want children.
“For the second time I grew convinced that telling you the truth was the right thing to do,” she said. “Knud and I had lunch in town and he was clearly shocked when I brought up the accident again. At first, he didn’t want to talk about it; you promised, he said. But then I asked him if he had ever considered there might be a link between it and the fact that you didn’t want children. It made a deep impression on him. After all, he really wanted some great-grandchildren,” she smiled, and Søren felt a spot in his heart glow red-hot.
“And suddenly it made sense to both of us. There had to be a connection. When we parted that day, I felt confident, but very nervous. We had made a decision. I had no idea how you would react, or how furious you would be with Elvira and Knud, whether I should tell you that I already knew or pretend that I didn’t…. We had to plan it down to the last detail, I decided. Knud had promised to call once he had spoken to Elvira.
“Only he never called back. It was one of the worst weeks of my life. I grew more and more angry and desperate. I was so fed up with your stubborn, no-nonsense attitude and deeply hurt you wouldn’t even consider having children with me. I slept in the living room and every morning when I woke up, I wanted to rip your head off. Knud still hadn’t called, but it no longer mattered, I told myself.
“That Sunday we went to have lunch with them, as we always did, and that’s when I realized why Knud never called me…. That bloody illness,” Vibe burst out and stared blankly into space before she continued.
“The grotesque part was that I met John in the middle of it all. When Knud died, I was in love. I visited Knud two days before he died, when he was deteriorating rapidly, but he still had plenty to say. For the first time ever, he begged me directly.
“Please don’t tell him, Vibe. Let it rest. Give my boy peace. He’s hurting so much. Give him peace.” I held Knud’s hand and I was consumed with doubt. Perhaps he was right? You were only just coping; Knud was right, I had never seen you in such pain. Why would I hurt you even more? I was so confused: did silence equal peace? I still don’t know. But I just couldn’t do it. Defy Elvira’s wish, defy Knud who was about to die, and push you into an abyss where none of us could foresee the consequences.”
“Does John know?” Søren demanded.
“Yes, he does.”
Søren groaned.
“Why now?” he asked.
She waited a little. Folded her hands around her stomach.
“When you called today and said you wanted to talk to me about something important, I thought you might have found out. There’s not much on the Internet, but there’s a bit. Besides, the old microfilms are still available, in regional archives and at the central library. You might have become suspicious and searched the archive yourself. After all, you’re a detective,” she laughed. “Perhaps you had decided to investigate your family history, what did I know? But I prepared for the worst. And…” Her face crumpled. “Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined it would be something so awful. That you had a daughter and she died. You poor man,” she said suddenly. “You poor, poor man.” She uttered the words so tenderly, and when she embraced Søren he rested his head on her shoulder. She smelled warm and familiar, her huge belly was bursting with life and she stroked his hair for a long time. John came back. Søren got up and the two men had an awkward hug. Vibe felt uneasy about Søren going home.
“You can sleep on the couch,” she assured him.
But he wanted to go home. “I’m okay,” he said.
When Søren woke up Saturday morning, he was angry. He was angry while he ate his breakfast, angry while he showered. He was angry when he stopped off at Bellahøj police station to switch cars, and angry when he reached Herlev Church for Professor Helland’s funeral. He sat in the back row watching Anna, Professor Freeman, Mrs. Helland, and the other two hundred mourners. His anger didn’t abate until the service started. Helland’s coffin was covered with colorful flowers. The roar of the organ opened the floodgates of his thoughts and he almost calmed down during the sermon, watching the backs of Anna’s and Freeman’s heads, one more stubborn than the other.
Maja’s funeral had been the worst day of his life, he had thought at the time. He had arrived late on purpose and was the last to enter the church. A funeral could be pompous, or almost euphoric, or indifferent, but when the coffin was the size of a box of dates, it was a nightmare. Søren’s nightmare. No one knew who he was, and he didn’t think Bo had seen him. During the service, Søren had wanted to stand up and scream: “My daughter’s in that coffin. My daughter.” But he had said nothing. It had been the worst day of his life. Or so he had thought.
Søren attended the wake after Professor Helland’s funeral. It was held at a funeral home not far from the church. He stood in a corner, watching everyone, speaking to no one and reeking of police. Mrs. Helland was distant. She was steadily drinking wine, speaking to people, but never for very long, and Søren noticed her gaze flutter like a butterfly. Just before five o’clock she made her excuses and left. Her daughter, Nanna, stayed behind. People began to trickle home. Søren could hear Nanna apologize. Her eyes were red, but she seemed more self-composed than her mother. She tidied up a little, and around six an older man offered her a lift home. She said good-bye to the remaining mourners, shook hands and was hugged. Søren went to his car. He had only attended the wake because he was desperate. He had even brought handcuffs, ready to slam them on the wrists of anyone who looked suspicious. How ridiculous.
Søren had reached Bellahøj police station and had just switched to his own car when his cell rang.
“It’s Stella Marie,” a voice said.
“Hi.” Søren was surprised.
“I know where I’ve seen that guy before.”
Søren was about to drive out of the basement garage, but
pulled in and waved a colleague past.
“Go on.”
“He’s on the outside of Magasin. I drove past this morning. There’s a huge poster on the front of the building.” Yes, she was sure. Søren thanked her and drove into the city center rather than home. He parked at Saint Annæ Plads and walked a few hundred meters down Bredgade, past Charlottenborg and up to Magasin. The giant poster faced the square. It depicted a man and a woman. The woman smiled flirtatiously, baring her bright white teeth. She was wearing a soft pink sweater and tight jeans, and she held out her hand behind her to the man who was about to slip an ostentatious gold ring on her finger. The man was handsome, even Søren could see that. Auburn hair, brown eyes, scattered freckles. He smiled, mischievously, but he appeared sure of his success. Behind his back, he held a Swiss army knife with multiple functions, and the message of the poster was that once the Magasin sale started, the man would be able to afford the ring for her and the knife for himself. Søren stared at the man’s face. He was around thirty, a little less perhaps, and he didn’t look like someone who frequented the Red Mask. Søren quickly came up with a plan: contact Magasin’s marketing department and identify the model. But that couldn’t be done until Monday morning. Damn! He looked at his watch. He was off duty now, but he had no urge to go home to his silent empty house. He called Henrik.
“No problem,” Henrik said. “Come over.”
Henrik lived with his family on the outskirts of Østerbro, and Søren spent the rest of the evening there. They ate together, and Søren was fascinated by Henrik’s teenage daughters who were simultaneously distant and omnipresent. One man had a daughter who would never grow bigger, a tiny daughter with tiny feet in tiny socks, another man had two daughters, with curves, who picked at their food, answered back, and had bright eyes. Søren liked Henrik’s wife and couldn’t imagine why he was having an affair. Jeanette was five years younger than her husband and worked as an administrator at a nursery school. After dinner, the men cleared the table, the girls disappeared to their bedrooms, and Henrik’s wife went to the gym. For a moment, Henrik looked nervous.
He and Søren got two beers and discussed the cases. As far as Helland was concerned, Henrik, too, was of the opinion they had to check out Hanne Moritzen. Professor Moritzen was the only person who really knew how to handle parasites, and even though they could attribute no motive to her, there had to be one. They agreed Henrik would investigate her on Monday to see if he could establish a link between her and Professor Helland.
But Henrik frowned when Søren went on to suggest that Helland might have been murdered by his wife.
“Why would she kill him? She has no motive,” Henrik objected. “And she knows nothing about parasites.” The two men looked at each other.
“Tybjerg, however, has a motive,” Henrik continued. “He’s fed up with standing in Helland’s shadow and decides to get rid of him. He may not know much about parasites, but he is a biologist, so he can find out.”
Søren remained unconvinced.
“Birgit Helland is hiding something. I can feel it.”
“So is Anna Bella Nor,” Henrik said. “And she has a motive.”
“Which is?”
“She’s a killer bitch from hell who eliminates any man who crosses her path. Possibly even Johannes. You have to agree it’s odd that two men, whom Anna Nor has been around since she started her graduate program, die within three days of each other, or is that just me?”
“I don’t think Johannes Trøjborg’s death is related to Helland’s. I think we need to visit Count Dracula’s castle if we’re to have a hope of finding the man who killed him. Or woman.”
Henrik nodded and they agreed to check out everyone who had been to the Red Mask on September 7.
“I still think Anna is an enigma,” Henrik insisted. “Perhaps she and Dr. Tybjerg are an item and they killed Helland together? To be crowned the new king and queen of the dinosaur experts.”
“I don’t want to talk shop anymore,” Søren said, stretching out.
“Fine by me. But I don’t want to talk about you-know-what. I told her today that it’s over.” Henrik’s eyes flickered.
They drank more beer. Henrik leaned back and said: “Ahhh.”
Then Søren told him a story about a little boy who went on vacation to the North Sea coast and got trapped in the car with his dead parents.
They got drunk. Not very, but enough for Søren to relax. Just after midnight he called for two cabs. One to take him home and another to drive his car back. When the cabs beeped their horns and Søren was about to leave, he went to shake Henrik’s hand, but Henrik would have none of it. He hugged him. For longer and harder than the other day.
When Søren got home, he went to bed and slept soundly for thirty minutes, exactly, before his cell rang. He was deep into a weird dream about dogs with thick, glossy coats. He was looking after them, or he owned them, and he could control them by winking. He was the only man in the universe who could do that. Dazed, he sat up in bed, clammy with sweat though there was frost on the outside of the window. The ringing stopped, but when he swung his feet over the edge of his bed, it started again. It was charging under his clothes, which he had left in a pile, and when he finally found it, it had switched to voice mail. He entered the pin code but before he had time to do anything else, it started ringing again.
“Hello,” he said in a rusty voice.
It was Anna.
“Why don’t you answer your phone? What’s the point of having a policeman’s cell number if he isn’t there when you need him?” Anna shouted. Søren wondered if her teeth were clattering as well. He looked at his alarm clock. It was 1:55 a.m.
“I was asleep,” he said. “What’s happened?” He was awake now. He switched on the light and fumbled for his clothes.
“I’ve just received a text message from Johannes,” she informed him.
Søren said, “Hang on.” He quickly got dressed then he picked up his phone again.
“Where are you?” he wanted to know.
“Right across from Bellahøj police station, as it happens. I was in Herlev and I decided to walk home. I received the text just as I passed the Lyngby highway exit and it was quite dark, so I ran. Now I’m here. It’s cold, I’m sweaty, and I’m going home.”
He was puzzled.
“What were you doing in Herlev?” he asked.
There was silence down the other end.
“I’m calling to say I got a text message from a dead man,” she said at last, “and perhaps you need to ratchet up your investigation a notch before his cell is switched off again. It’s probably too late already, given what a heavy sleeper you are. It’s been a long day. Good night.”
“Stop, Anna!”
Søren was cut off.
“Damn!”
He called her. It went to voice mail.
It was 2:05 in the morning and he was wide awake.
“Damn!” he said again.
He called the station and spoke to the duty officer who had been just about to call him. Johannes Trøjborg’s missing cell, which they had been keeping an eye on since last Wednesday, had just been active. The activity was traced to the corner of Schlegels Allé and Vesterbrogade, and the phone was moving down Vesterbrogade toward the city center. One minute and twenty seconds after sending the message, it was switched off. Søren hung up and very slowly ate five apples. It felt like they started fermenting in his stomach right away, something was certainly brewing. He called Anna’s number ten times, but got no reply. He stared into the forest; the moon hung huge and round over the ragged line of the treetops. He touched the window and could feel the cold through the glass like a faint electric current. Was he protecting Anna because he was attracted to her? Was Henrik right? Had Anna killed Helland? Out of hate? Had she killed Johannes? But why? Had they been too quick to discount Professor Freeman? Had he sat in a church with a killer today and let him go? Was it Mrs. Helland, was it obvious to everyone except him? And Dr. Tybjerg.
Where did he fit into the picture? And where was he? Dead? Or had he gone underground because he was guilty?
Søren showered. As he stood, heavy and naked, on the cold bathroom floor, he suddenly felt things were about to change. There were no more obstacles in his path. He got dressed and made coffee. He spent two hours making notes, drawing stick people on pieces of paper and moving them around on the floor. Then he lay down on the sofa and slept for a couple of hours. At eight o’clock he got up and made oatmeal. While it simmered, he splashed water on his face. He thought about Susanne Winther. The terror in her voice when she thought something might have happened to Magnus, her little son. He had loved his daughter just as much, though he had only seen her a few times while she was a baby, the size of a bean. What had Søren said the night Bo called from Thailand? Had his eyes widened and had he whispered: “Is Maja all right?” No. He had screamed: “Pull yourself together, you fucking freak!”
What was it Professor Moritzen had said?
The very first time he called her.
She had whispered: “Is Asger all right?”
It was nine o’clock, it was Sunday, and a huge weight fell from Søren’s shoulders; he had finally gotten his touch back.
Chapter 16
When Anna got home, she climbed into bed next to Karen and slept soundly. In the morning she made pancakes and treated Lily to a bubble bath. Every time Karen passed her, Anna gave her a hug. Karen was overjoyed but confused.
“What are you up to?” she wanted to know.
Anna smiled softly.
“It’s just that…” She shook her head.
Karen asked if she could get Lily out of the bath, so Anna went into the living room. She had received another text message from Johannes’s mobile.
Can we meet at my place? it said.
Anna replied: No. The Natural History Museum. 3 p.m. Or I call the police. Then she returned to the bathroom. Karen was sitting on the toilet seat with a towel in her lap. Lily was squealing with delight at a plastic Bambi bath toy with a Santa-Claus-style foam beard. Anna’s heart sank. She was about to make Karen very sad. Gently, she put her hand on Karen’s back.