The Tenant

by Katrine Engberg

  “I think so. A bit serious, but the kids quite like that. He takes them seriously. Is there any reason for us to be concerned?” The manager put her hand to her chin, looking anxious.

  “No, not at the moment. We just need to ask a few questions.”

  “We absolutely cannot risk anything happening to our kids—”

  “We’ll be sure to let you know if there’s any reason to be concerned,” Saidani said, looking past her. “And you’re entirely sure no one could be hiding on the grounds?”

  “A thousand percent.”

  “Then we apologize for the disruption. Have a good evening.”

  They got back in the car. Saidani had already turned on the engine and put it in gear when there was a knock on the window. It caught her off guard and as she opened the window, she hoped Larsen hadn’t noticed. The manager bent down and smiled apologetically.

  “You know, something just occurred to me. This actually isn’t our normal address. We received a grant, you see, and are renovating and rebuilding our main facility, so we’re only located here for a year, during the construction. The site is a little farther up Strandvejen, at number 332, less than five minutes from here.” She hesitated. “Yeah, that was it. I don’t know if it matters at all. Goodbye again!” She ran back to the front door in her stocking feet.

  Strandvejen 332 turned out to be a very different kind of building than the modern brick house they had just visited. A large white mansion with a glazed tile roof set back from the street on grounds overlooking the ocean. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume it was yet another of the area’s luxury estates. The two detectives parked the car and walked through the garden gate, which to their surprise was unlocked. Building and grounds were both blacked out. Even the lights along the driveway, which looked like they were controlled by a sensor, didn’t react to their movements. They walked cautiously along the gravel, listening. As they got closer, they could see scaffolding around the house, lending it a hostile quality. Winter hibernation in the middle of August. They checked the doors to the main building to see if someone had tampered with the locks. It was hard to get full overview in the light from the flashlight, but it didn’t seem like it.

  A loud snap came from behind them. They both jumped and held their breath until they noticed one of the scaffolding tarps hanging loose, flapping with every gust of wind. Classic. They smiled sheepishly at each other. Saidani unclicked her service revolver from its holster and took off the safety. Switched off the flashlight to prevent the beam of light from giving them away before they discovered who else might be there.

  In the darkness they had to proceed even more slowly with more vigilance. Luckily the slight reflection from the sea made it possible to maneuver around benches and trees. Saidani still managed to bump into a sandbox with a closed lid. Cursing herself silently, she waited for Larsen to open it while she covered him. He felt his way around the edge of the wooden lid and lifted it with difficulty. The sandbox was empty. It made a little bang when the lid fell back into place. They paused, but heard no other sounds but the sea and the occasional flapping of the tarp. They proceeded cautiously through the vegetation.

  When they had zigzagged almost all the way across the grounds, Saidani stopped.

  “There’s something on the beach,” she whispered.

  “Are you sure? Isn’t it just seaweed?”

  She started running. Larsen was right on her heels.

  “What is it? Wait for me! Turn on the flashlight!”

  Saidani got to the beach and turned on the flashlight. In the sand lay what was unmistakably a human body. It was hard to see the face for blood, but the short, henna-dyed hair and the small frame in soaked pastel colors left no doubt.

  “It’s her!” Sara heard the panic in her own voice. “Call the ambulance, I’ll check for signs of life. And keep your eyes open! We don’t know if he’s still hiding in the dark.”

  * * *

  HALF AN HOUR later, an ambulance flashing blue lights pulled onto the ramp of the ER in the basement of the national hospital, stopping in front of the sliding doors. An escorting police car parked next to it, as the paramedics unfolded the stretcher and pushed it inside. Sara Saidani jumped out of the patrol car and was met by Ecco Lima, the on-duty investigative officer. Emergency room physicians in green scrub pants and white T-shirts put on plastic aprons and hair covers while Saidani hurriedly recounted what she knew, until she was left alone in the hallway in front of the actual emergency examination room. Through glass panes in the door, one could see the doctors cutting clothes off the victim and placing them in large plastic envelopes, which they immediately handed to Saidani for further examination. They were putting on lead aprons, preparing for X-rays, when Anette Werner and Jeppe Kørner came running down the ramp.

  “Is she alive?” Jeppe was the first to catch his breath.

  “We don’t know anything yet.” Saidani gave a little headshake as if to say she was sorry. “They just started working on her.”

  “And the perpetrator?” He could hear himself shouting but couldn’t stop.

  “No sign of him yet. Larsen and the riot teams are sweeping the area.”

  The blood drained from Jeppe’s brain, and he had to bend over, putting his head between his legs. The line where the yellow wall met the red linoleum floor was swaying as if her were on a ship. He had failed. Somewhere above him he could hear Anette discussing the situation with Saidani. Someone else joined them, talking loudly, yelling. He tried to follow, but it seemed like the words came from another dimension, distant and incomprehensible. He had promised to look after her; now she was lying in there and he was standing out here, powerless. And the killer was still on the loose.

  He closed his eyes. A disgrace, that’s what he was. An irredeemable, inexcusable disgrace!

  He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up. Saidani was standing close, looking at him with concern. But there was something more in her eyes than just collegial care. A message? Tenderness? His cloudy brain couldn’t interpret her dark look.

  “Jepsen, what the hell are you doing? Are you feeling sick again? You’ve got to see a doctor, already!” Anette pushed Saidani aside and grabbed him.

  “I’m fine, just, uh, low blood sugar and—” He let Anette pull him up. His heart started to race again and the room spun around. “Is she dead?”

  She gave him a weird look.

  “Weren’t you listening at all? Her condition is stable. Some broken ribs and a dislocated jaw, a bunch of lacerations—she’s lost several liters of blood—and a suspected concussion. She’s been sedated and must be allowed to sleep until morning, but it’s looking good. She’s a tough old broad. Jeppe, she’s okay.”

  “Can’t we see her tonight?”

  “At the moment you don’t seem to be able to see anything but your own shaking knees!” Anette laughed. “She’s not conscious. The doctors say to let her rest until morning. And honestly you look like you need a bite to eat and a nap!”

  Jeppe leaned on the wall until the room finally stopped spinning. His throat was tight and he had to swallow a couple of times. The world felt wobbly, but his pulse steadied as relief slowly took over.

  “I’ll buy a round of beers at the Burger Palace.”

  Esther was alive. It was going to be all right.

  * * *

  “WHY DO YOU think he spared her?”

  Jeppe tossed a chicken bone into his plastic basket, wiped the barbecue sauce off his fingers, and then took a drink of his Budweiser. American beer always made him feel like an extra in a Levi’s ad, not an entirely unpleasant sensation. Anette was already halfway through her bacon burger, dabs of chili mayo shining like pearls on her chin. They were seated at one of the plastic tables at the Burger Palace, trying to make sense of the last twenty-four hours.

  The search for Esther de Laurenti had been called off and another started for dactyloscopy technician David Bovin. At the moment six riot vans were cruising around Kok
kedal, by Bovin’s home address, the forensics center, Kingo’s gallery and apartment, along Klosterstræde, and through downtown. All precincts of the Greater Copenhagen Police as well as the Danish Home Guard divisions throughout Eastern Denmark had been asked to participate in the search, and the media was running “wanted” photos on the front pages of their online editions. They had notified Christian Stender’s lawyer that Stender would be interrogated tomorrow morning. It would be a stretch for him to also claim responsibility for Esther de Laurenti’s attack tonight, but of course you never knew.

  “Hmm, maybe the perpetrator was interrupted by Larsen and Saidani?”

  “They would have seen him.” Jeppe decided to eat one more chicken wing, even though he was still feeling nauseous. “The bleeding from her wounds had started clotting a long time ago, and there was evidence of hypothermia, so she must have been lying on the beach for a while. But why would he leave her without finishing her off?”

  Anette contemplated her sauce-covered fingers, as if they were somehow someone else’s responsibility, then began licking them clean.

  “Would you like a wet wipe?” he asked with thinly veiled disgust.

  “Shut it, Jepsen. Don’t you have anything more important to worry about besides my hygienic practices?”

  “Sure. But do you want one?”

  “Okay,” she sighed and held out her hand. Started wiping her hands. “Maybe it just wasn’t the same working on an older woman with wrinkly skin. Maybe it just didn’t match his ambitions.”

  “Hmm, maybe.” Jeppe considered. “But she’s seen him. Pretty risky of him to leave her alive. That doesn’t exactly seem to fit with all the safety precautions he took with his first two victims. Why’s he being reckless now?”

  “Because he knows we know who he is,” she replied. “And because he doesn’t care about being caught.”

  “That makes him dangerous. I mean, even more dangerous.”

  Anette nodded and drank in silence. Jeppe wondered if they themselves could be at risk. Maybe he should call Therese and ask her to be on her guard for the next few days, even though it seemed far out. Tell Niels to look after his wife. Until the paperwork was signed, she was still his wife.

  Aside from them, Burger Palace was empty. On a Sunday night like this, the place was only busy doing take-out orders. People were home watching TV and eating on their sofas with the family, candles burning in windowsills. Jeppe felt the familiar tug of loneliness and drank some more of his beer. Anette’s phone rang; she smiled at the display and answered the call. Her whole face beamed, her voice dropping low and affectionate. Honey this, honey that. It had to be Svend. Jeppe watched his still-in-love partner and finished his beer.

  * * *

  THERE’S A VERY fine line between seizing an opportunity and doing something that you know is just downright stupid. Sometimes the road less traveled is only traveled less because it leads you straight off a cliff. Jeppe knew what road he had taken when he parked his car under a chestnut tree in Østerbro. He had driven out of town after waving good night to Anette. Home to shower and get a good night’s sleep. But his hands had turned the wheel of their own accord and led him back into the city.

  In the summer darkness the small Potato Row houses looked like window decorations in a posh patisserie. Gingerbread buildings with frosting windows, lit up, looking warm and inviting, low hedges one could chat with the neighbor over, a playground in the street for the children. Just lovely.

  With every step, Jeppe hit himself over the head with his stupidity: Esther is safe. Drive home right now and get some sleep! Anna’s husband is home. What do you hope to achieve? Will a glimpse of her make you sleep better? Or do think she’ll see you and sneak outside, so you can make passionate love in the sandbox while John brushes his teeth? The best you can hope for, you idiot, is to be hit by lightning from the clear sky and found as a scorched statue in the front yard when she comes out to unlock her bike in the morning.

  The house lay in the midsection of the street, which was car-free and reserved for children playing. Here he could lean against a playhouse, unseen from the road, and spy through the Harlov family’s windows. If they happened to look out that same window, he would be caught like a deer in the headlights on a country road.

  Soft light shone on all three floors, but he could see no movement. The bluish light of a TV flickered on the second floor behind airy white curtains. They were probably sitting in there right now, the two of them, hand in hand, drinking red wine or fancy tea. Jeppe took a morsel of comfort from the TV being on—they weren’t having that much fun. On a table just inside the ground-floor window a candle was flickering. Someone would have to come down and turn it off at some point. Jeppe was cold and uncomfortable on the diminutive windowsill of the playhouse, but he decided to stay anyway, until that candle was turned off. He leaned back against the splintery wood and waited.

  Therese had once picked him up in the nearby train station, Østerport, on a summer night ages ago. They had just moved into their house in Valby, and Johannes and Rodrigo had been over for dinner. He and Johannes got drunk and started playing with water guns in the yard, barefoot, with their sleeves rolled up. It had been such a warm evening that the air felt like an embrace. They continued their battle over the unsold lot next door, where the grass grew tall and those trees bloomed white, the ones that smell so amazing in June. Elderflower? Ended by the train tracks, soaked and laughing, invincible under the stars.

  A freight train had passed, heightening the magic of the summer night. And then a miracle: the train stopped right in front of them. They didn’t hesitate, just climbed onto an open car, elated at the thought of where they might end up. Berlin! Rotterdam! Without a single coin in their pockets, two friends on a freight train through the night going into the unknown. Dark houses and fragrant bushes whooshed past; they gave up trying to talk over the roar of the train. It didn’t go far. Stopped after fifteen minutes at Østerport, where it was shunted onto a sidetrack for the night. Equal parts disappointment and relief.

  Jeppe smiled at the memory. He couldn’t remember how they had gotten hold of Therese, but she and Rodrigo came in the car to pick them up. Rodrigo was furious, but Therese had laughed and kissed him, loved him more for his boyish bravery.

  The disadvantage to feeling whole with another human being is that when they go, you’re left with half a person at most.

  The candle flickered and a ceiling light came on. There she was! Honey and rosemary, warm gold and foamy bubble bath. His body awoke at the sight of her, like turning machinery on with the flick of a switch. She was wearing cozy-looking sweats and her hair was in a ponytail. John appeared behind her carrying a tray with glasses and a bottle. While she loaded the dishwasher, they talked animatedly. He stood holding the tray, his body calm but the expression on his face vibrant. Anna broke into laughter. It had to be something John had said, because he was laughing, too, but with the modesty of the creator of the joke. She wiped her eyes, looking like a little girl. There was nothing pretend about her laughter.

  John set down the tray and caressed her briefly on the cheek before he turned off the main light on a switch by the door and disappeared. She watched him go. Jeppe knew that look. There used to be someone who looked at him that way, too.

  Anna moved through the kitchen, toward the window, over to the candle, and to him. He saw her pouting face light up like an angel’s, then she blew out the candle and disappeared.

  Jeppe drove home. He wasn’t even going to try getting the comforter in the bedroom. Just found a blanket and a decorative pillow and tossed them on the sofa. She’s just someone you screwed twice! He brushed his teeth, opened the bathroom cabinet, and looked at his collection of analgesics. Little jars of relief, so damn pathetic. He was pathetic. Furious, he swallowed four pills and went back to the sofa. Therese smiled down at him from the Tivoli picture on the shelf.

  There was a rumble from the tracks. A train going by in the dark made the house sha
ke. Jeppe turned his back to the whole thing and closed his eyes tight.

  MONDAY, AUGUST 13

  CHAPTER 35

  The trees along Tagensvej hung down over the lanes, leaves already a dusty dark harvest green. In front of the national hospital’s concrete facade, cement pots of lavender glowed a fluorescent bluish purple in the morning light and a bright yellow wrapper had blown up against the bike rack. Jeppe had had to drink three cups of coffee to wake up and still felt like the world was moving at twice the usual pace. He couldn’t look up the tall hospital building, otherwise it would start to lean over him. He had already texted Anna twice, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock. Jeppe checked his phone. No answer. Perhaps she was just waiting until she was alone.

  Out of the sunny mist over Blegdamsvej Anette came into view, at a jog and panting slightly.

  “Fucking city! I had to park all the way down by Trianglen. I’m exhausted.”

  Exhausted! Jeppe was so tired, he could have slept for a thousand years. He patted his partner on the arm.

  “Good morning. Let’s go straight to her. She’s in the neurosurgery clinic for observation, and she has a CT scan in half an hour.”

  “Are you okay? Your eyes look really bloodshot and weird…”

  Bloodshot sounds right, Jeppe thought, but shook his head. “I’m just tired. Come on, it’s on the ninth floor.”

  They stopped briefly to say good morning to the two officers posted outside the hospital room and then went in with a nurse right on their heels, admonishing them. “Keep it short! Be gentle! The patient just woke up and is still weak.” She checked a drip and then left the room with a bustle of efficiency.

  The room was kept dark by electronic metal blinds. Esther de Laurenti lay in a hospital bed, looking at them wide-eyed. She had a bandage around her head and a big Band-Aid on her chin; her ribs were taped and the left side of her jaw a dark violet. She spoke the second she saw them.