“I’ve pooped in my nappy!”
CHAPTER 54
The moon shone down from a cloudless sky. The streets of Strandvig were deserted tonight, but there were rumblings coming from the Vikings where burning torches lit up the entrance. Holy Helle looked upwards and gave a silent, hurried thanks to the Dear Lord. The elements were behaving themselves and Helle was in her element. The Moonlight Bathe was one of the highlights of the winter season, ranking third place after the Christmas Eve Dip and the New Year Plunge, and the Vikings had turned out in force. As they always did, when lured by the prospect of free smørrebrød and hot coffee.
Ida, much to Gustav’s astonishment (and Lisbeth’s delight and Karsten’s disbelief), had accepted Gustav’s somewhat awkward invitation to be his date for the night. When he discovered the wad of money hidden in his rucksack that morning, he’d called Ida right away – the only person from the Kro he thought he could trust. He knew that, with the return of Stig’s keys, everyone was a suspect. Ida had persuaded him to go straight to Strandvig police station and tell them everything he knew. Or didn’t know. And was there waiting for him outside the police station when it was all over. Gustav had cracked and asked her out on the spot (and hadn’t even been wearing his lucky underpants).
The young pair had been one of the first to arrive at the club and were now wandering around the more remote parts of the bathing deck, hand in gloved hand.
“Maybe you should answer your telephone?” Gustav wasn’t keen to let go of Ida’s hand, but couldn’t ignore the buzzing any longer.
Ida pulled it out. “It’s Martin. Again.”
“Martin the Peacock? Sorry – maybe I shouldn’t call him that…”
Ida laughed. “Don’t worry, everyone does. He’s offered me a job as Office Junior in his firm.”
“Will you take it?”
“I’ve not decided yet. Looking after Mathias and Mathilde is a challenge, but fun. Working one on one with Martin would be… I don’t know. And Maria doesn’t seem too pleased. Anyway, let’s not talk about them. Look – I’m switching off my phone.”
Elvira and Gerda, doing their best to hide behind the sauna, watched the young pair and giggled.
“What’s he waiting for, Gerda?”
“He does seem very shy. In our day, lads didn’t hang around, did they? Oh – wait up – your granddaughter seems to be making a move!”
Ida had pulled Gustav’s face down to hers and had given him a gentle kiss. They were both smiling and Gustav wrapped his arms around her. A million miles from the madding crowd, bathed in a grey halo of light.
Elvira sighed. “That’s my girl! Okay, let’s go and find Bent and get some food!”
Back on the main deck the party was in full swing. Robed and towel-clad figures were assembled together on the deck, huddled around braziers full of hot coals.
Ole and Bent had already pulled out the painter’s trestle table from the back of the storage hut and set it up between the ladies and gents changing huts. Yrsa had brought her summery, strawberry print wax tablecloth from home and was smoothing it out and weighting it down at the corners with four large stones that her grandchildren had painted white. The Committee members and a few volunteers had each brought a large thermos of piping, hot coffee with them. Helle had texted them during the week, then phoned each of them late last night and again this afternoon to remind them of their civic duty. She hadn’t physically spoken to them – they had learned by now not to answer when they saw her caller ID – so she had left messages with full instructions.
Helle herself brought three specially designated ‘tea only’ white coloured thermos’ from the church hall. The unwitting volunteer who made the faux-pas of filling them with coffee at the Christmas Dip was now relegated to clean up duty.
Ellen’s butcher shop supplied the smørrebrød. Always freshly made and always two types. Tonight there was frikadeller med rødkål – Ellen’s homemade Danish meatballs, sliced up and topped with sweet, pickled red cabbage. And franskbrød med ost – French-style white baguette with slices of Danbo cheese, topped with rings of yellow and red pepper. Lined up side-by-side in huge, white, shallow cardboard butcher boxes. Normally Johnny would transport the smørrebrød down to the Vikings in the hotel minibus, but tonight Karsten and Lisbeth had made the run themselves, and been invited to stay on.
“Thank you so much for helping us out at the last moment, Mr Holm. Such a terrible business with Mr Rasmussen – God Rest His Soul! To think that Johnny Højer… Well, I really don’t know what to say!”
Karsten looked down at his feet, “Yes, it’s a bad business indeed. A shock to all of us. Not least my poor Lisbeth, here…” He put his arm around Lisbeth, who was dabbing her eyes with a hanky and looking very distraught – she wasn’t comfortable standing on the bathing bridge on the spot where it might have happened. “She always thinks the best of everyone, she does! But then again, she’s from Aarhus you know!” Karsten winked at Helle, who merely stared back at him.
“Erm, yes, Mr Holm. But I very much hope we can count on your support for our next event?” Helle was already thinking ahead to the logistics of the Easter Cleanse.
“Eh, yes. Yes, of course.”
“So you’ll be able to drive the smørrebrød for us?”
“Oh, yes, that won’t be a problem. But it won’t personally be me doing the driving – we’ll be taking on a new man at the hotel.”
“I very much hope you’ll consider getting a background check done—”
“Oh, I really don’t think that’ll be necessary Mrs Brandt—”
“As recent events have shown us, Mr Holm, one can never be too sure!”
Karsten pointed over at two tall figures chatting beside the buffet table. “We’ve asked Mads if he’s interested in the job. One of Strandvig’s own. Now there’s a man you can trust!”
Helle sniffed, straightened her back and ruffled her shoulders. “I very much hope so, Mr Holm. For all our sakes.”
Lisbeth tried, and failed miserably, to hold back a very large sob. Karsten held her firmly and rubbed her back, as if he was burping a baby. “Come on, love – just let it all out!” Helle searched for an area that wasn’t totally engulfed by Karsten and put a firm hand on Lisbeth’s coat sleeve. “There, there, Mrs Holm! Perhaps you might like to pop into the church tomorrow morning? I always feel a great sense of peace when sitting in the pew, communing with our maker.”
Silence. It was impossible to tell if Lisbeth had physically stopped sobbing or was merely too deeply engulfed in Karsten’s grasp for her sobs to be heard. A chorus of wolf whistles made the trio turn around.
The Moonlight bathers, clumped in little groups by the bathing steps, were all smiling, nodding and pointing in the same direction. A small stooped figure was slowly emerging from the gents changing hut. Complete with a bright yellow beanie on his head.
“Hey, there Bent! Why the bathing robe?”
“All that Gammel Dansk has finally gone to his head!”
“If it hadn’t been for the yellow beanie, I wouldn’t have recognised him!”
“Why so modest all of a sudden?”
“Not like you to hide your crown jewels, Bent!”
Bent sashayed over the boards – resplendent in a long dark velour bathing robe – in a quick step. Or was that the cha-cha-cha?
“Hey, that’s not Bent. That’s bloody Fred Astaire, that is!” quipped Karsten. Lisbeth managed to wriggle out of his grip and peered at the dancing figure in the moonlight.
Holy Helle winced. And not merely at Mr Holm’s flagrant use of the ‘b’ word in her presence. She was beginning to get a bad feeling, a very bad feeling and moved closer for a better look at Bent. What on earth is that man up to now? Bent, oblivious to the comments being fired his way, carried on his little dance towards the bathing steps, enjoying every moment. He stopped at the railings, did a small pirouette and – with a flourish – removed his beanie. By now the crowd was chanting. “Bent! Bent! Bent! B
ent!” He slowly untied the pleated cord of the robe, swung it round his head like a lasso three times, then let it fall to the ground. The group cheered. Helle cursed and prayed for divine intervention.
Bent turned towards the bathers. “Ladies and gentlemen, Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs! For my next trick…” He turned his back to them, slipped out of the robe and let it fall with a dramatic flourish. The crowd surged forward and spread out along the railings, watching as Bent descended into the water.
The crowd laughed, right on cue. Helle gasped for air. “Of all the..!”
Karsten let go of Lisbeth (who nearly collapsed due to the sudden unexpected release), slapped his thigh and let out a huge roar that carried all the way down the coast. “Moonlight Bathe? It’s a moonlight bathe complete with a FULL MOON!”
Bent Bang’s buttocks were coated with fluorescent paint.
CHAPTER 55
Bent slowly sipped his half pint and looked at the next one, already set up on the bar for him. Karsten was drying and polishing beer glasses. “That stunt you just pulled, Bent, is going to keep you supplied with these for a long time!” Once the last remnants of the smørrebrød and cake (with a noticeable lack of muffins from Lea) had been polished off at the Vikings, and the trestle table had been duly cleared, folded and put away at the very back of the storage hut under Helle’s watchful eye, half of the bathers had moved on to Strandhøj in search – or so they claimed – of warming liquid refreshments. Par for the course, what they actually ordered on arriving at the Kro was, of course, something rather cold and very alcoholic.
“It certainly cheered me up no end, I can tell you!” Lisbeth, for once, also sitting down at the bar, cautiously sipped a small crystal glass, full to the brim with cherry wine. She didn’t normally drink, but Karsten had administered it, saying that it would help to calm her down and build her up. “Medicinal purposes, love!” She very much doubted that kirsebærvin had healing properties. Then again, a lot of rosy-cheeked old biddies drank it, so really, who could say? Given that her toes still felt like two large blocks of ice, a whole two hours after Bent’s antics on the bathing bridge, she wasn’t going to argue. She raised her glass to Bent and looked him in the eye, “Skål!”
Lea, who was on a bar stool on the other side of Bent, joined in the toast and put her glass of white wine down in front of her and laughed. “I thought Holy Helle was going to read me the riot act for not supplying cupcakes tonight. But you saved me, Bent Bang. Now it’s you who’s in hot water. Did you see Helle’s face?”
Karsten continued polishing. “Course he didn’t, Lea love. He was too busy pointing his luminous backside the other way!” He stopped, dishtowel in hand, and looked quizzical. “Now I come to think of it, Bent, how are you going to get that paint off? With some steel wool? Ouch!”
Bent nodded over at Elvira and Gerda, who were sitting with the rest of the Oldies at one of the long tables, each nursing a medicinal gin and tonic. There seemed to be copious amounts of medicine on tap tonight. Bent smiled contentedly. “No worries, Karsten, I’ve already had a few offers of help from some lovely ladies.”
Lea looked at the two elderly ladies and rolled her eyes. She had learned not to be fooled by their demure exterior. “Oh my giddy aunt. Why does that not surprise me in the least?”
“Besides, where’s the harm, Lea Mus? It was just my little bit of fun. I reckoned we all needed something to make us smile after the events of the past few days.”
Lea popped a few peanuts into her mouth and rubbed the salt off her fingers. “Honestly, Bent, Helle looked like she wanted to crucify you.”
Karsten looked up from pouring a pint. “Good job that toolbox of yours was locked away in the storage hut, then!”
Lisbeth clasped on to her kirsebærvin glass with both hands and hissed. “Really, Karsten?”
Bent’s eyes turned sad for a moment. “Not that we’re forgetting what happened to poor Stig, of course.”
Lisbeth leaned over and put her arm around Bent. “No, Bent, of course we aren’t.”
Henrik and Kenneth had arrived at the Kro fifteen minutes earlier and were already in place, with a full bottle of Amarone and a plate of petits fours in front of them. Henrik managed to catch Bent’s eye – Henrik’s bulk wasn’t easy to miss, especially as he was animatedly waving over, half-sitting, half-standing. He was very obviously the cat who had got the cream and was dying to tell someone, anyone the latest news. Lea and Bent succumbed and took their belongings over to join them.
“So did you hear about Johnny?” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Why, what’s happened?” Lea wasn’t really interested, she had heard nothing but rumours and gossip since the police had arrested him. All speculation, a lot of hearsay and most of it exaggerated and embroidered along the way. The Moonlight Bathe had been a welcome diversion.
“He finally confessed!”
“What? Who told you that?”
“A little birdy in the local constabulary told me!”
Kenneth looked over at Lea and winked. “I thought it was our Lea who had a direct line to them at the moment?”
“Me? No, I—” She was interrupted by her telephone buzzing and could see that Daniel was trying to call her. Again?! The buzzing was followed by two chimes: a text message.
Henrik chortled and touched his nose. “I don’t like to reveal my sources. But let’s just say that Mrs Meyer isn’t going to be short of her Raspberry Red almonds for the next few weeks!”
“But what’s made Johnny change his tune? He swore blind that it was an accident.” Bent looked confused. “Even if I knew that he’d been in the storage hut that morning – and I did – that didn’t mean he’d done anything wrong.”
“Apart from leaving his friend to die, you mean?” Kenneth managed to get a word in before refilling his glass.
Bent continued. “But Johnny claimed he fell asleep. That he thought Stig had gone home.”
“Oh, right. Like we believe that?”
Henrik - delighted to once again be the main attraction, after an evening that had very much been Bent’s – decided it was time to take the floor, front and centre. “Yes, but the evidence they have against Johnny is overwhelming. The hammer had been wiped clean, we already knew that. But they found his DNA under Stig’s nails. Just like on the telly. My God, but they must have had quite a tumble before Stig hit the water.” He shivered and looked down. “God rest his soul.”
Kenneth swigged. “Amen to that! And skål!”
Lea continued to look at her phone, her face changing colour by the second. Have dinner with a policeman? An exceptionally good looking policeman. Daniel was new to Strandvig and was probably just looking for company. It would be rude not to, wouldn’t it? And why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t as if Mads—
“Lea Mus, are you with us?”
She forced herself back to the conversation at hand. “Erm, yes. But why kill Stig? I mean, what would Johnny get out of it? And how on earth did he think he would get away with it?”
Kenneth piped up. “Johnny must have overheard me giving Stig money for Henrik’s surprise party. He wanted in on the job. You know what he was like – would do anything for money.”
Henrik tried to reel the story back to himself. “That’s where what Johnny said was partly true. He didn’t plan to kill him, he asked Stig to meet him down at the club. Was going to ask him for a loan – the money he saw you giving to Stig.”
Bent sipped his pint. “The money Gustav found in his rucksack.”
Lea wasn’t convinced. “After hours? At the Vikings? Didn’t Stig think it was fishy?”
Kenneth continued. “Well they had known each other for years and you know Stig – he would always help you out. So Johnny said they sat chatting in the storage hut for half an hour and they started drinking – pretty heavily.”
“But Stig didn’t drink spirits!”
“I know that, Bent. And you know that. But that’s what Johnny told the polic
e first of all. And then, of course, the police knew he was lying about that too, because they had the contents of Stig’s stomach analysed.”
Kenneth groaned and took a swig of Amarone to get rid of squeamish thoughts.
Bent looked hopeful. “No spirits.”
“They don’t know exactly what he’d been drinking, but it only amounted to a beer. Maximum two. So he didn’t fall in by accident.”
“I knew it!”
Lea squeezed Bent’s hand. “But, Henrik, I still don’t understand why Johnny did it?”
“This is where it gets bizarre. He mentioned to Stig that he was thinking of asking Karin out—”
“But there’s no way Karin would go out with Johnny. Not with Stig still around—”
“Bent, if you’d let me finish! Yes, to us it was a daft idea. It’s like me and Kenneth—” He looked over adoringly at his partner, whose glass was currently empty, but whose eyes were very much full of tears. “Stig and Karin were made for each other. No doubt about that. But Johnny couldn’t accept – or maybe didn’t want to accept – that Karin would always belong to Stig. They never did get divorced, did they? Johnny reckoned that as Stig ‘didn’t want her’, then he should be able to ‘have a shot’.”
Bent raised his eyebrows and wrinkled his nose.
“Johnny’s words, not mine, Bent. And we all know that Stig was a very easy going guy but – and again, this is according to Johnny’s version of events – when Johnny mentioned that he was going to ask Karin out on a date, Stig went completely berserk. Shouted and screamed. Said to Johnny that he wasn’t good enough for her. That Karin deserved better. Went on and on and on, and warned Johnny to stay well away from her.”
Lea winced. “I’m not at all surprised. I mean, I always thought Johnny was okay. But on the other hand, he wasn’t exactly prime boyfriend material.”
Kenneth was ready to join in again, between glasses. “Oh, and who do you think is boyfriend material, Lea? Would that be Mads or, your new friend, Command—”
Henrik looked sweetly at Kenneth. “Skat, do you think I can finish, please?”
Death Comes to Strandvig Page 15