“Sometimes I regret that I didn’t. Even so many years later. He would have deserved it, the old . . . libertine. Do you understand?”
“Yes, easily. But let’s leave that story for a moment and come back to it later. Can you tell me how the Falkenborg family functioned on an everyday basis? You said that Elisabeth Falkenborg was cowed, and the family in general was awful. I would like you to expand on what you experienced.”
Surprisingly enough Agnete Bahn ignored the encouragement and suddenly said, like lightning from a clear blue sky, “I know why that perverse animal has a mask on when he kills. I know exactly why, now that I know it was him . . . Andreas Falkenborg, that is.”
Simonsen straightened up on the couch and said sharply, “Mask? I haven’t told you about a mask.”
“No, but it says so on the Dagbladet website, I just read it, and I’m sure they’ll give it a lot of space in the newspaper tomorrow. The journalist spoke with a girl whose mother was once attacked by him. Or was it grandmother? And the thing about the mask fits brilliantly, although . . . maybe I’m the only one who knows that, besides Andreas Falkenborg himself.”
This was both good and bad news for Simonsen. The phone call to Police Headquarters could not be postponed. He got hold of Poul Troulsen, told him about the situation and asked him to assess the risk of the leak and provide Jeanette Hvidt with any necessary protection. Finally he took the opportunity to call off the blockade of the brothel. Agnete Bahn, who had followed his calls with interest, revealed her overly white teeth in a broad smile when she heard that her business could look forward to a normal turnover for the rest of the day. He wiped the smile off her face as soon as he ended the call.
“Bear in mind that I can resume my surveillance of your house in the space of ten minutes.”
She accepted this without visible annoyance.
“I’ll keep my part of the agreement.”
“That sounds sensible. Now the mask you mentioned . . . you can work out for yourself that this is not just something the newspapers made up, and I am very interested in what you can tell me about it, but I would prefer to take things in sequence.”
“Okay, but tell me what you asked about last. I’ve forgotten.”
“Tell me about conditions within the Falkenborg household, as you experienced them.”
“So, first and foremost, Alf Falkenborg decided everything. He was totally high-handed when he chose to be. But often he was indifferent to the way things were going at home, although you could never really tell which way he’d jump. One day Andreas would have to stand there and talk about his scouting trips, what merit badges he had earned and which ones he still hadn’t finished, how many kilometres he had walked without complaining, and so on in the same vein. The next day the kid might be completely neglected.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy for a boy.”
“Definitely not. It was bad for him, though I couldn’t see that then. The truth is that I was delighted when his father took things out on him. I couldn’t stand the kid.”
“Was he beaten or punished severely in any other way?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. His mother never hit him, he was almost her only consolation, and occasionally his father gave him a slap, but very seldom. He also got slapped around at school now and then, but you couldn’t say he was beaten up exactly. No, it was much worse for the mother. Alf hit her so often she had to wear sunglasses all the time. I’m sure you know the type.”
“Yes, I do. Was Andreas Falkenborg present when his father was violent towards his mother?”
“Yes, and I was too. The old man was not too particular, he always did as he pleased. He didn’t hesitate to beat her if the son had been up to mischief. Andreas’s conduct was her responsibility, and if he didn’t live up to his father’s expectations, she could expect to pay for it immediately.”
“How did she react to that kind of payment?”
“Well, what do you think? She whined and pleaded.”
“In front of the child?”
“Absolutely, and he would have to console her afterwards. It’s not so strange that he became a monster.”
“What other forms of abuse did you see? Did you have any impression that Andreas Falkenborg was sexually exploited? By either his father or his mother?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. The only one who was sexually abused in that house was me.”
“What about alcohol or drugs?”
“Nothing of that sort.”
“So the situation was not that Alf Falkenborg came home drunk and beat his wife?”
“Not at all. I don’t recall seeing either of them drunk. Maybe they were on some occasions, but it was definitely not something that characterised their home life. I remember that they always drank water with meals.”
“Why was Elisabeth Falkenborg beaten?”
Agnete Bahn thought briefly before she answered. “Except when there was trouble with Andreas, I don’t think there was any particular reason.”
“Was there a lot of trouble with him?”
“No, I can’t say that.