Part 14 (1/2)
”The man just committed a rape and a murder. He's not going to show up at a mixer,” Louise scoffed, shaking her head.
Camilla took a sip of her beer and then scooted her chair a little farther back toward the fence around the pond so the afternoon sun could hit her face.
”Dating is apparently a subject you have rather limited knowledge of,” Camilla said in her best schoolmarm's voice, looking at Louise. ”It's got its own culture. There's a solidarity among daters. You can take part and still be anonymous. People show up at these events with their login name on their s.h.i.+rt, so you go over to TruckerBob and say, 'Hi, it's me, Anemone. We've exchanged e-mails.'”
Although Camilla was speaking as though she were giving a detailed lecture at the university, she could tell Louise still didn't really get it.
”You get kind of, I don't know, addicted to it,” Camilla continued. ”And then at these events you have a chance to see all the people whose login names you know from the Internet. If you don't want anyone to recognize you, you show up under a new ident.i.ty and say you just thought you'd give dating a try.”
”How many people come to one of these events?” Louise asked, having no real sense what the number would be.
”A thousand, maybe two,” Camilla guessed and then ordered two more beers, but upped it to three as she noticed Peter walking up right then.
Louise greeted him with a kiss and pulled a chair over from the neighboring table. She could certainly see Camilla's point, but it was just too dicey compared to letting the public know there was a brutal rapist on the loose. After all, there was no guarantee he would show up at a social event like that. And even if it did turn out that he was there, it would be hard to spot him in the crowd.
Louise was about to ask Peter if he'd had a good day, when Camilla commandeered his attention, asking what he thought about her plan. Louise smiled at Camilla's enthusiastic arguments, finished her beer, and took her wallet out to pay for the next round, which the waiter was just setting on the table.
Peter nodded slightly absent-mindedly.
Louise thought that Suhr's professional vanity might keep him from holding his announcement from the press until Friday.
”What the h.e.l.l other alternative is there?” Camilla wanted to know, gesturing with her hands for emphasis. ”You don't have anything. That's f.u.c.king worse. A murder, a rape, and a psychopath who hog-ties women and stuffs c.r.a.p in their mouths! This is really going to be fun for Suhr once the slow news days of summer start. The press is going to go to town with this story. They're going to rake him over the coals. He's not going to f.u.c.king enjoy that very much.”
Louise grinned. Camilla was right. He wasn't going to f.u.c.king enjoy that at all. Then she grew serious again.
”First of all, you don't know what we have-and you won't know that, either, until you hear it from Suhr; and, second, if I pitch your idea to him, I will do so without any input from you. We don't team up with journalists when we do things like this. So you can just stop looking forward to that Sat.u.r.day cover story you're dreaming about.”
Camilla sat back a bit in her chair, offended, and fumed. ”I wouldn't dream of getting mixed up in all this, but I just might invite Henning to the event on Friday, and Suhr better not f.u.c.king stop me.”
Peter smiled as Louise sighed. She decided not to present Camilla's idea to Suhr, but also wouldn't tell Camilla she wasn't going to. She really wanted to ask some more questions about Henning, but she held back since Peter was there.
The first of May was as warm as if it had been August, and people were strolling home with picnic baskets and blankets over their arms. It had been a long time since she and Peter had had dinner in the park. Even though it was so close to where they lived, they rarely went. Actually, it had been quite a while since they had done anything so wholesomely ordinary and enjoyable together. A little devil on her shoulder whispered that the spontaneity had vanished... after they'd moved in together. She looked at him and thought maybe it had already happened before they had moved in together. Their everyday lives had taken over. Work kept them busy. Peter had been working a lot of overtime, and he tried hard to keep his weekly badminton date. Most of the week was taken up that way, without much time for them to just be there for each other.
She reached for his hand. Every once in a while she longed for a little more togetherness, but mostly she enjoyed the sense of freedom she felt. She didn't need them to do every last thing together. What she loved most about their relations.h.i.+p was just knowing they were on the same team, knowing that they loved each other and that he was always there for her. Doing everything together wouldn't necessarily strengthen those feelings.
”I presume you'll let me know what Suhr says about my idea,” Camilla nagged. ”Or, obviously, I could call him and ask him myself.”
”We'll have to wait and see how far he and Heilmann get tomorrow,” Louise said evasively. She thought about how Camilla's suggestions often seemed very simplistic. Camilla went after ideas or stories without thinking about their consequences. They had known each other for many years, and Louise knew it didn't matter what she said; Camilla always did whatever she wanted anyway. But Louise tried to be a little bit of a grounding influence by bringing up the consequences and realities that went along with the ideas in her friend's blond head.
Later, all three of them strolled along Smallegade up to Falkoner Alle. Peter followed a few paces behind them.
”There's one major flaw with your idea,” Louise told Camilla as they parted ways. ”He has enough time to attack one more victim before Friday if we don't do something before then. And Suhr won't be happy about that, either. I'm sure that would get a lot of f.u.c.king play during the slow summer news cycle.”
18.
”I REALLY WANT TO TALK TO YOU BEFORE THE MORNING BRIEFING.” Heilmann had come over and poked Louise's shoulder as she stood pouring herself some coffee in the little kitchenette off the break room where her colleagues were showing up for Tuesday's morning briefing.
Heilmann looked tense and serious, and Louise noticed how she was bracing herself for whatever was coming. f.u.c.king a.s.shole, she thought, picturing the back of the suspect's head with its dark wavy hair, and then followed Heilmann into her office. Louise took a seat on the edge of the visitor's chair and noticed she was clenching her jaw. She opened and closed her jaw a few times and ma.s.saged just below her temples to get her jaw muscles to relax.
Heilmann was watching her.
Self-consciously, she slowly lowered her hands into her lap and grew increasingly anxious because the sergeant was not saying anything.
”Susanne Hansson tried to commit suicide last night,” Heilmann said.
The silence was oppressive. Louise's arms felt heavy.
”She's been admitted to Hvidovre Hospital. Actually, the police aren't involved with this at all, but obviously there's no doubt why she felt driven to do such an unfortunate thing. Her mother was the one who called the ambulance.”
Exactly a week after she found Susanne the last time, Louise thought, her heart sinking. She pictured the slightly awkward, battered expression on Susanne's face, and it struck more of a chord in her than she would have liked.
There was a knock on Heilmann's door, and Suhr stuck his head in. ”You guys coming?”
”We'll join you in minute,” Heilmann replied, waving him away.
”Susanne's mother called Suhr at home at six this morning. She must have gotten the number out of the phone book,” Heilmann continued, smiling wanly. ”I think you should drive out there and talk to Susanne. I'm sensing maybe there's something she hasn't told us. Something that's really bothering her. This was a cry for help, so obviously we'll also need to offer her some counseling.”
Louise nodded, completely in agreement.
”Not that you should push her too hard,” Heilmann continued, ”but maybe she's remembered something that could help us. Something she repressed originally because of the shock. We do see that all the time.”
”Of course I'll talk to her. I can go right now,” Louise said.
”You should attend the morning briefing first. You can drive out to Hvidovre after that,” Heilmann replied, standing to retrieve the vehicle logbook off the bookshelf behind her. She wrote in Louise's name and tossed her a set of keys. They walked together over to the break room, where the briefing was already under way. They had just sat down when Willumsen flung the door open and interrupted Suhr.
Louise followed along with interest as Willumsen, whom she was still angry with for forcing her to waste a whole day traipsing out to Nykbing Sjaelland, unleashed a torrent of profanity. He ignored everyone else in the room, addressing only Suhr.
The murder of the immigrant woman had been officially categorized as ”solved but not closed” since they had taken the woman's ex-husband into custody. Now it turned out that the witness who said she had heard all the noise coming from the victim's apartment around one o'clock had broken down and confessed that she'd only said that because a reporter was asking her a bunch of questions the same day the body was discovered. The reporter, along with a photographer, had settled into her kitchen; and since they were there, the witness felt under a lot of pressure to make some kind of comment on the appalling tragedy that had happened in the apartment below hers. So she'd made up those comments about the noise. The paper ran with that the next day, and when the police came back to ask why she hadn't mentioned the noise the first time they talked to her, she was too afraid to admit she had gotten carried away and made it all up. Her lie had just s...o...b..lled out of control.
”f.u.c.king idiots!” Willumsen snarled. ”Now we don't have s.h.i.+t to hold this guy on.”
Willumsen turned, surveying the officers of the homicide division's five investigative units, and stormed out of the break room again. Louise wasn't really sure who the phrase ”f.u.c.king idiots” referred to-the witnesses or the reporters. She shook off his angry outburst and concentrated on Suhr, who was reviewing what the other units were working on. As he wrapped up the briefing, she got ready to head out to Hvidovre.
- ”YOU'RE DRIVING MY DAUGHTER TO HER DEATH!”
Accusations were being hurled across the hospital room. Susanne's mother was on her feet, coming at Louise, before Louise even managed to close the door again.
”She can't live like this,” Susanne's mother continued. ”We read it in the paper-there's a vicious sociopath on the loose. And you're not doing anything-aside from sitting around drinking coffee in people's homes! First he came after us, and now he's gone and murdered some poor young woman....”
Susanne's mother's voice was agitated and shrill, but devoid of even the slightest hint of sadness.
Louise looked over at the hospital bed. Susanne was just lying there, the same as the first time Louise had met her. Susanne turned her face toward the door to see who had come in, but avoided looking in her mother's direction. That sent a twinge through Louise's heart. The mother's accusations had the same effect as one of those awful little yappy dogs: it's all you can do not to kick it in the rump to get it to shut up.
”I'd like to ask you to step out of the room while I speak to Susanne.” Louise kept her face calm and spoke with all the official police authority she could.
”No way,” the mother fumed. ”My daughter has suffered enough. I insist on being here to protect her. You've certainly demonstrated that you can't.” She made a big show of walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed. Susanne did not acknowledge her mother's presence.