Death Comes to Strandvig

by Diane Hansen-Ingram

“I followed you down here from the Kro. Lisbeth was worried you might do Bent some harm. You know me, always keen to lend a hand! Even if it is bloody cold.” He shivered and lit up a Prince.

  “Oh, thank God, Johnny. Bent’s stuck inside – must have been here for hours and he’s started talking nonsense. Can you help me to get this door open? I’m really worried that—”

  “Lea? Lea? Call Daniel, call DANIEL!” Bent was battering on the door for all his worth.

  “Sure, beautiful. Have you tried pulling the handle?”

  Lea shot him a look.

  “Just kidding! I’ll have to force it open. But it won’t be pretty and there’ll be some damage—”

  “I don’t care. Let’s get him out!”

  Johnny raked around in the toolbox. “Your call, beautiful. But make sure you tell Holy Helle it wasn’t my fault!”

  Lea didn’t give a fig – or a cupcake – as to what Holy Helle might think. Right this minute she was considering calling Lisbeth, who would certainly rally round for Bent with some brandy and a bowl of steaming hot soup.

  “Lea? Is that Daniel with you?” Bent’s voice was feeble again.

  “See what I mean, Johnny? Now he’s hearing things. Make it quick, will you!”

  Johnny stubbed out his cigarette and pulled out a crowbar. “Oh boy, that’s a long one… Ha ha – that’s what she said last night!”

  Lea wasn’t in the mood for jokes. She put her hand on the door and shouted as loud as she could. “Move your hands away from the door, Bent! We’re coming in!”

  The third time that Johnny jimmied the door worked a charm. “Open sesame!” Johnny opened the door and Bent fell forward, almost knocking Lea over.

  “Oh, Bent, you poor thing! Let’s get you over to the Kro and get you warmed up!”

  Bent leant on her arm and tried to adjust his eyes to the light.

  “Johnny, is that you? You bastard!”

  “Hey, I just helped to get you out of there, old man! I’m sorry about the door but Lea thought—”

  Bent looked up imploringly at Lea. “Lea Mus, listen to me! You have to call Daniel. Now! It was Johnny – he was the one who killed Stig!”

  Lea tried to take Bent’s arm. “Calm down, Bent, you’re not thinking straight. Let’s get you over to the Kro—”

  Bent’s strength re-emerged, accompanied by a flaring red colour in his cheeks. He shook his fist at Johnny, eyes glaring. “Don’t you dare come near me! I know it was you! Lea Mus, get Daniel!”

  Johnny threw the crowbar in the toolbox and rolled his eyes. “I see what you mean, Lea. The old guy’s off his rocker. Hypothermia? I’ll call an ambulance—”

  Bent wasn’t going to be fobbed off so easily. “It was you who had been in the hut the morning Stig was found. I could smell it. I would recognise that smell anywhere. It smelt of you, your cigarettes. That’s what was so odd that morning when I opened the door. I only realised it just now.”

  “So I smoke! So do you. And Gustav. Yeah, I saw you both in the car park last night, Bent. Doesn’t mean anything.”

  “You came here when you were a kid, didn’t you, Johnny? You and your schoolmates. It was the same smell as back then. I would bet my life on it. Ama’r halshug!”

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Bent. Besides, who’s going to believe the ramblings of an old man?”

  “Why? Why did you do it, Johnny?”

  Lea looked on in disbelief. Bent certainly didn’t look the worse for wear after his enforced confinement. On the contrary, now that the colour had returned to his cheeks, she’d never seen him more alive. But the quantum leap to Johnny having murdered his colleague, his friend? And yet… Bent had planted a tiny seed of doubt, and she forced herself to see where it might lead.

  She took Bent’s arm and looked him in the eye. “Bent, we’ll get this sorted out.”

  She picked up her bag and turned around. “Johnny, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask. Just one question. How did you know that I went to the Kayak Club the night Stig was killed?”

  “Lea, not you too? Bent is off his rocker and now you’re not making sense.” He lit up a cigarette. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Events were slowly beginning to bump into each other, then link up in Lea’s mind. “No-one knew I had gone to see Mads at the Kayak Club that night.”

  “So?” Johnny looked out to sea. “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Bent.”

  Silence.

  “And yet you knew. You mentioned it several times. That you had seen me chasing after Mads…”

  “What if I did? I was jesting, Lea. You know me, that’s how I am.”

  “Johnny, you mentioned that I was at the Kayak Club. And you couldn’t possibly have known that unless you yourself had been out that night.”

  “Right couple of detectives we have here. And I came to help you out! Why do I bother? I’m leaving.”

  Bent grabbed Johnny’s arm. “Why did you do it? For God’s sake, man, Stig was your friend!”

  “Get out of my way!” Johnny pushed Bent hard and knocked him down onto his knees on the ice.

  Lea stood in his path. Bent had started an avalanche in her mind and she decided to take a leap. “And what about that anonymous phone call to the police, the day after Mads and Karin had a drink together. Was that you, trying to get your own back? I think you owe us an explana—”

  “I don’t owe you anything.” He picked up the monkey wrench from the toolbox and headed straight for her. “Now get out of my way before I smash that beautiful face of yours!”

  Heavy footsteps pounded on the boards and two large figures appeared around the corner. It was the Sheriff and the Lone Ranger.

  CHAPTER 51

  Two police officers, the last men on the scene, were handcuffing Johnny and reading him his rights. Mads had his arm around Bent, who was covered from head to toe in blankets and once more sitting on the bench inside the storage hut.

  “But how did you know we were here?”

  Daniel smiled at her. “You called your friend, Mads?”

  Lea shook her head. “He’s not my friend—” Now she was blushing. “Well, you see Bent wanted me to call someone and—”

  “You must have pressed a key by mistake. Mads answered your call, but you didn’t speak. He was just about to hang up when he heard the voices in the background – you and Johnny shouting.”

  “And Mads called the police?”

  “No, he was up at the Kro when you called. It was sheer co-incidence that he saw us there. We were there to pick up Johnny, but he had flown the coop.” Daniel nodded over to the suspect. “Johnny’s going to be, how shall I say it, helping us with our enquiries.”

  “So you do think it was Johnny? Oh my God. I mean, I know Bent is adamant – something about the smell of cigarettes in the hut that morning. And Johnny had somehow seen me that night at the Kay—” Lea stopped. Perhaps this wasn’t something she really should be sharing with Daniel.

  “All in good time, Lea. You’ve had a bit of a shock.” He touched her arm gently. “We’ve got some pretty strong forensic evidence. So I’m pretty sure we’ve got our man.”

  “Oh, right. Thank God for that. Um, does that mean I can go now?”

  “Sure. I need to speak to Bent, but you get home and get warmed up.” Daniel walked her up to the main gate and held it open for her, smiling. “By the way, Lea. I’ve been trying to ring you. Why didn’t you call me back?”

  CHAPTER 52

  Bent and Mads were still sitting on the bench in the storage hut, drinking hot coffee from a thermos supplied by Lisbeth, while Johnny was being questioned by the officers. As they were all packing up to leave, Bent stood up and growled. “Coward! How could you kill a friend?!” Johnny didn’t move but stood calmly against the railing. “Friend? Stig was never my friend. Mr Goody Two Shoes had no ambition. Look at what happened with him and Karin. He had her and then he let her go.”

  “
You killed him to get Karin?”

  Johnny smirked. “Oh, but I didn’t kill him, Bent. You see, it was all just a silly accident.”

  “Accident? Accident, min røv!”

  “Now, now, Bent – mind your language! We came down here and sneaked over the fence. Just like old times, when we were lads. You even said it yourself, didn’t you? Found the bottle of Gammel Dansk in the shed and we sat there, getting drunk together. And then Stig… He must have had a bit too much and fell in the water—”

  “Liar! Stig never touched spirits. He was a beer man, ask Karsten!”

  “Well that’s his word against mine, isn’t it? And he’s not here to say otherwise.”

  Now Mads was on his feet. “And you didn’t help him?”

  “Like I said, I was drunk. Fell asleep in the storage hut and, when I woke up, he was gone. So you see, it was all just an accident… I’m sure the judge will agree with me.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything before? You’ve been quiet all this time, with the police questioning anybody and everybody. And poor Karin – you’ve been hanging around her – you didn’t think she deserved to know what happened? Why didn’t you say? It doesn’t make sense!”

  Johnny inhaled and looked Bent straight in the eye. “Because you lot wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Would you?”

  “Okay, folks, it’s time to go home now.” Daniel gave the nod to the officers to take care of Bent. Bent looked up at Daniel and pleaded. “Don’t believe him, Daniel, he’s lying!”

  “Don’t you worry, Bent. He can’t talk his way out of technical evidence.”

  CHAPTER 53

  An air of silence had descended over Strandvig since Johnny’s arrest. The speculation and rumours in the week following Stig’s death had fired up the whole community, outraged that one of their own had been murdered, but there were a few who had secretly enjoyed the sudden notoriety and thrill of the chase. The fact that one of their own was now believed to be the culprit had changed the mood to darkness and sadness.

  Kenneth continued to open the doors of Brdr. Frandsen every morning on the dot at 9.45am as usual, but felt no joy in making his small outdoor tableaux. Henrik tried to gee him up, even digging deep into his short pockets and ordering extra supplies for the shop from their pusher in the south of France. An English dealer who specialised in finding the most fantastic wrought iron pieces from rural farms and selling them on at vastly inflated prices (the farmers enjoying the money, as much as the idea that townies should want to display such old junk in their fine urban houses). But it was slow going and Henrik, too, was losing motivation.

  Kenneth arranged the deerskins on the frosty bench outside the shop and was just lighting the candles in the large black lanterns on either side – accompanied by a very audible sigh – when he heard young excited voices behind him. It was Karin out with a crocodile of kids from Æblegården. Though the Danes are light-years behind the Brits when it comes to queuing, Danish nursery children are world experts in forming lines, and walking hand-in-hand, two by two.

  Kenneth didn’t need to look at the calendar to know what day it was. If the toddlers were out and about, it must be tur dag – Thursday.

  “Godmorgen, Karin! Morning, children!” Kenneth looked further down the crocodile to see who was bringing up the rear. “Godmorgen, Jannick!”

  “Godmorgen, Kenneth!” The kids were bundled up in their regulation ski suits, thermal gloves, thermal hats, thermal balaclavas, thermal boots and undoubtedly, under all the other layers, thermal underwear. Or at least woollen underwear. Reflective tags, in various shapes and sizes, hung like Christmas tree ornaments from their ski suits. Despite the sub-zero temperatures they were smiling from ear to ear.

  “Where are you off to this morning, kids?”

  “The station!” They chorused.

  Karin wasn’t taking them into town today, or planning to take them on the train at all. The station’s close proximity to the nursery made it the number one stop on their morning walk. The children would line up, two by two, hand-in-hand, along the platform and wave for all they were worth when they saw the train arriving. The train stopped at Strandvig station, regardless of whether there were passengers getting on or off, but the children were of the firm belief that flagging down the train was absolutely essential. If they didn’t wave, it wouldn’t stop. The regular train driver knew this and, in turn, would roll down the window and give them a wave back.

  “Are you going into Copenhagen?”

  Karin was about to answer but was eclipsed by Mathias. What he lacked in years (though he was very proud to tell anyone who would listen that he was a whole three-and-a-half plus two-weeks-old) he made up in joyful spirit, always willing to make conversation with anyone who would listen. “Nej! We’re going to the beach!”

  Kenneth looked aghast. “In this weather?”

  “You sound just like my dad. Ja! It’s going to be so much fun!”

  Kenneth didn’t look convinced. And was having a very hard time putting on a smile this morning, even though the children’s enthusiasm was normally highly contagious, even to the most pessimistic in the village. Word had it that the mouth of cranky old Bertil Bruun (the bike dealer who would just as happily hit you with a bicycle pump as sell you one) had turned 180 degrees one morning – no doubt accompanied by a lot of cranking and clanging – when the crocodile of children passed his bike shop. Bertil’s wife, Anne, had called the Strandvig police, mistaking him for an intruder.

  Kenneth whispered in Karin’s ear. “Can they come in and get a hard-boiled sweetie?”

  “No whispering! My Mum says you’re not allowed to whisper!” Little Mathias was also vociferous on the rules of etiquette.

  Kenneth mouthed silently to Karin. “High maintenance Maria’s child?”

  She nodded and winked.

  “Bolcher! Ja!” The other kids, who either had better hearing or were less worried about Kenneth’s faux pas, cheered in unison and charged towards the entrance.

  “Quietly now, kids! And don’t touch anything!” Karin and Jannick followed the line of kids, all of them stamping their snowy boots on the large black doormat as they entered.

  Henrik, who was behind the counter, removing Lisa Nilsson from her box, looked up and shouted a hearty Godmorgen to the kids. He was immediately by Kenneth’s side, complete with two large glass mason jars. Then, having had second thoughts, he bounced back to the counter, opened the drawer and removed two pairs of long sleek, silver, Danish design tongs. They wouldn’t look out of place on a surgeon’s table. And were equally, clinically, clean. Henrik was fond of the nursery kids, with their red-faced cherub cheeks. But rather less fond of their persistently dripping winter noses. The children were regular guests in the shop and, over time, Henrik had noted a worrying tendency when it came to runny noses. After a few seconds the children would rub the goo onto their sleeves, gloves or worse – Henrik shuddered – lick it off with their tongues. He was just pondering whether to fetch the hand sanitizer, but was cut short or, to be more precise, cut off, surrounded by a ring of eager children.

  Henrik and Kenneth gave each jar a hearty shake to release the boiled sweets, popped open the lids and got ready to fish out the sweets with the tongs, ready to drop into the waiting sticky hands. Jannick instructed the kids to get back into line. Two rows. “King of Denmark here on the left, strawberry here on the right!” Surprisingly the aniseed sweets were more popular than the strawberry ones. King Christian’s physician had obviously been on to something.

  Mathias – also defender of the shy – ushered his sister Mathilde into the right queue for the right flavour. And very gracefully asked Kenneth if his little sister might be allowed one extra strawberry sweet. “It’s for Ninka Rabbit, you know.”

  Kenneth, his own mood lifting by the second, started to feel bad that he hadn’t been as aware as he usually was of others. He touched Karin’s arm lightly. “I’m so sorry we haven’t been much help. Things just seem so – how can I
put it – so dark right now. How are you doing?”

  Karin picked out a strawberry sweet. “Oh, I’m surviving. Thank goodness I’ve got Sonja and Jannick helping me. When I’m at Æblegården with the kids I’m fine. There just isn’t the time to think of anything else to be honest. But at home? Well, I just feel like I’m still in the middle of a nightmare. Without being able to wake up.”

  “Have you been out at all? Up at the Kro or—?” Kenneth immediately regretted his words. The last time he had seen Karin at the Kro had been the last night that he’d seen Johnny.

  “No, not really. Not since they arrested Johnny. I just don’t want to think about it at all, it’s just too horrible. And these long, dark days don’t help…”

  “Are you coming to the Midnight Bathe?”

  “Mads mentioned it—”

  “You must come!” Henrik shouted over from the other side of the shop, where he was showing the kids the latest in safety candles. The kids were hanging on to his every word. And also keeping very keen toddler eyes on the mason jar and the tongs he was still holding in his hand.

  “I have to say I don’t really feel like it myself.” Kenneth cocked his head to one side. “But I tell you what, if you go, I’ll come too.”

  Karin laughed. “Is this a conspiracy? Because Mads has been really nagging me. Sonja too. I’m just not sure if I’m ready—”

  Henrik turned the candles on and off using his remote control to more ooohs and aaahs. “But did Mads tell you what Bent said? Bent promised that he’d be putting on a show—”

  “Uh oh? Bent?” Karin’s eyes began to sparkle.

  Kenneth clutched at his chest. “Bent? Oh my word – that man! What on earth can he be up to now? That sounds ominous!”

  “That sounds fun!” Karin was intrigued. Maybe Mads was right and she needed a change of air. Cold, freezing, moonlight night air.

  “Karin, Karin!” Asger, previously entranced by the safety candle display was now at her side and tugging furiously at her sleeve.

  “Yes, what is it, skat?”