Part 17 (2/2)
”There's coffee made. Henrik just popped out to the bakery.” She opened the door and held the dog. ”But Dicta isn't here,” she added, still leaning over Charlie with a grip on his collar. ”She's spending the night at Liv's.”
Anne set coffee cups out on the table and it wasn't until they were sitting across from each other that a shadow came over her face.
”You didn't come over to talk about Dicta, did you?” she asked, to encourage Louise to begin.
The coffee in the cup was steaming and the milk had turned it a creamy, golden color.
”I would really like to speak to both you and your husband. How about if we just wait for him?”
Now that that was said, the worry was more palpable. Louise sat up when she heard the car door shut. A second later, Henrik Moller was standing in the doorway, looking at her in astonishment.
”You're here so early,” he said, walking over to shake her hand.
Dicta's mother stayed seated in her chair, following her husband with her eyes, but clearly hadn't yet had the thought that something awful had happened. That wasn't the source of the worry that was evident in her eyes. Just apprehension.
Henrik Moller had tossed a bag of breakfast rolls and the newspaper onto the kitchen table and walked over and took a seat next to his wife, as if he were expecting that this would all be wrapped up quickly so they could return to their quiet Sunday-morning routine.
Louise took a deep breath and jumped in.
”Early this morning, Dicta was found in a parking lot behind Nygade,” she said slowly. ”I am very sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news. Your daughter is dead, and there is no doubt that she was murdered.”
Both parents were still looking at her with expectant expressions, as if any signals to or from their brains had ceased the second Louise spoke those words. It took a few more seconds before the expressions on their faces changed.
”Dead. Murdered?” Anne Moller stammered, not seeming to understand how this had anything to do with her.
”How can she be dead?” Henrik Moller asked, his voice extremely calm. ”What happened?”
Louise started to explain. ”She sustained a number of powerful blows to the head.” Louise paused to allow the parents a chance to respond further.
Dicta's mother was sitting completely still, nodding automatically.
Louise doubted she could even hear what was being said, so she turned to look at the father.
”Extremely powerful blows,” Louise emphasized, hoping he wouldn't ask her to go into more detail.
”My darling little Dicta,” Anne Moller croaked hoa.r.s.ely. Then came the reaction as she collapsed into tears.
”Did she die quickly?” Henrik Moller asked, reaching out to hold his wife's hand.
They always wanted to know the same thing. All parents wanted to be rea.s.sured that their children had died without pain and without fear.
”Is that what the big emergency response in town was for this morning?” he continued. His voice was no longer as controlled and his eyes were s.h.i.+ny. ”They were talking about it at the bakery.”
Louise nodded and told them about the woman who had gone down early that morning to drop off some clothes in the Salvation Army bin.
”We don't know exactly what time the attack happened,” Louise acknowledged, explaining that it could have been any time between midnight and when she was found a little before six. ”We have one witness who works at the Gyro Hut, who says that Dicta definitely wasn't there when he got into his car last night. We got hold of him early this morning and he's the only one we've talked to so far who was at the location so late. The owner of the gyro place lives upstairs from his business and contacted his employees when my colleagues were looking for witnesses.”
”What was she doing out so late? She was supposed to be staying at Liv's,” her mother said disconsolately to no one in particular.
Her husband lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
”So, Dicta was planning to spend the night at Liv's last night,” Louise repeated. ”What else did she do yesterday?”
”She was out most of the afternoon,” Anne replied mechanically. ”She left as soon as we were done with lunch. I went out to look at a new dog, and after that I took my car over to the shop. They're going to do a tune-up on it Monday morning. When Dicta came home, we ate dinner and then she went over to Liv's.”
Anne's voice was monotone, like a report being read, and there was no way to tell from her intonation that she was actually talking about her daughter.
”I drove out to the golf course after lunch, along with Anne. Dicta walked,” Henrik Moller explained, ”and I didn't get home until evening.”
With a heartrending scream, Anne leapt up from her chair so fiercely that it tipped over backward.
”No, no, no,” she shrieked with so much pa.s.sion that it seared its way into Louise's skin.
Henrik was at his wife's side in an instant, pulling her to him. He started rocking her soothingly back and forth, like a child he wanted to comfort. He seemed composed and all his attention was directed at her. He tenderly stroked her hair, and Louise left them alone until Dicta's mother had calmed down a bit.
Henrik moved his chair right over next to his wife's so he could sit and hold her while they kept talking.
Quiet settled over the room and Anne looked at Louise, her face streaked with tears, her head resting limply against her husband's shoulder, as if every last bit of muscular control had left her. Only small, almost imperceptible tremors ran through her.
Louise felt the knot in her stomach and turned her attention to Henrik.
”Did you talk about anything before she went over to Liv's?” Louise continued, aware of how awkward it was to ignore the mother's agonizing pain.
”I think she was talking about the two of them going to the movies,” Anne whispered with her eyes closed.
There were good reasons for and against telling them about the Ekstra Bladet photo, Louise thought. She almost couldn't bear to do it because she was pretty sure they weren't aware of their daughter's Copenhagen adventure. On the other hand, it would almost be worse if they didn't know about it and happened to hear from somewhere else that a photo of their daughter posing practically naked had appeared in the paper the same day she was found murdered.
Maybe they already know, Louise thought, allowing a third option.
Without any more time for reflection or to come up with any more excuses, she just asked flat out if they knew Dicta was that day's page-nine girl, and if they knew anything about the Copenhagen photographer who had taken the picture of her.
The silence in the kitchen was deafening. Finally Henrik spoke.
”Let's see it,” he said and didn't sound as if it surprised him.
”You knew pictures had been taken?” Louise asked, surprised at having misjudged him.
”Well, there's knowing and then there's knowing.... She didn't tell me, but I definitely figured she was up to something we weren't involved in,” he said.
”What sort of nonsense is this?” Dicta's mother exclaimed, suddenly back with them again. ”She wasn't involved in anything we didn't know about. She wasn't like that.”
Her voice began to choke up, but Henrik's vehement response stopped her crying. ”If you didn't know anything about this photo in Ekstra Bladet, then she must have been keeping something hidden from us.”
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