The Girl in the Ice

“List those too. Houses, you say . . . did he have more than one?”


“One down at Pr?st? that he’s had for many years. It’s rented out. And then one in Liseleje and one in Sweden, but they were sold again.”

“Write down when he buys and sells them and then a note that refers to the addresses.”

“Yes, sir. And what about Greenland? Then he still has his apartment in Frederiksberg, the first one that is.”

“Make a special page on Greenland, note the date he leaves, and cross-reference.”

“I don’t know the date, nothing at all has come in from the Countess, but there is a strange thing about one house.”

“What’s that?”

“In 1986 . . . no, sorry, 1996 . . . in December 1996 he buys the second storey of a house in R?dovre and sells it again in January 1997, which costs him over forty thousand kroner. There are a lot of papers about it already scanned in.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting. Write house purchase and house sale on the line, refer to the papers, and then can you make a special page for unanswered questions? At the moment it should read interruption in studies 1977? and house in R?dovre 1996/97? ”

“I’ll do that.”

“Is there anything about workplaces besides Greenland? I mean, he must have earned money somehow.”

“He has his own company, and I have his tax information from 1973, that just came in, so I can tell you what he earned.”

“I would really like to know that. Later, when you’re not as busy, put the details in a spreadsheet and send me a bar chart for the whole time period.”

“I’ll make a note of that. Last year he had an income of just under nine hundred thousand kroner.”

Simonsen whistled.

“Is that standard or a one-off?”

“It varies a lot. Some years he’s above that, other years he earns almost nothing at all.”

“Can you see anywhere what kind of company he has?”

“In a little while I should be able to, but there’s something else . . . Poul Troulsen is on his way with a witness. And there’s news from Greenland.”

Before Simonsen could respond, Troulsen came in escorting a tall, thin man.

“I have something you should hear, Simon. It’s quick, but important. Please sit down there.”

The latter was directed at the thin man, who bashfully scuttled over and sat down at the little conference table at the back of the office. Simonsen followed suit without raising any objection, although his stomach was starting to tell him that it was time for lunch. Troulsen wasted no time.

“Will you please tell the head of homicide, Chief Inspector Konrad Simonsen, what you told me before?”

Simonsen’s long title clearly made the impression Troulsen had hoped. The man looked deferentially at the Chief Inspector and opened his mouth to speak. Then his shoulders slumped a little.

“Yes, but this is a bit personal,” he objected. “It’s not exactly something I’m proud of.”

Simonsen followed the man’s gaze towards Malte Borup, lost in his tapping at the keyboard.

“Malte, you can take a break. Go out and charm some of the young constables.”

Malte left willingly. He was used to being thrown out according to his boss’s whims. Troulsen helped the man along.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, not at all. You haven’t done anything illegal. Besides, we’ve heard a lot of things in here, and we don’t judge people.”

The man found his tongue, and this time was pleasingly precise.

“Two years ago I had a suspicion that my wife at the time was having a relationship with another man while I was away travelling. I’m a project manager all over the world and often away from home for months on end. For example, at the moment I’m working on the construction of a new domestic terminal at Dubai Airport. I’m only back in Denmark for three days. Well, I turned to Andreas Falkenborg, someone I knew was an expert in dealing with that type of problem. We had a meeting and agreed on the conditions, which primarily meant that he would conduct surveillance on my wife while I was abroad. His price was sixty thousand kroner per week, with three weeks payable in advance, and it was not open to negotiation. The money was to be paid in cash without receipts or papers of any kind.”

Simonsen interjected, “That was a stiff price.”

“He’s regarded as one of the very best, extremely discreet and very reliable. That type is always expensive. Besides, I had the means. I’m very well paid too.”

“You say that Falkenborg is regarded as an expert. How did you find that out?”

The man raised his hands limply and let out a small, sorrowful sigh.

“There are plenty of others with the same problem as I had. I’ve never been good at attracting women, but just because you’re ugly doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

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