The under secretary had shed jacket and tie, which lay neatly folded behind him, besides removing his shoes and socks. His white feet sticking out from under well-pressed Cerruti trousers gave a strange slant on informality. He smiled winningly as the Countess and Konrad Simonsen sat down opposite him, and then asked with a lively show of interest about their personal lives as well as about the investigation. Soon they were deep into a conversation that all three of them enjoyed.
This was one of Helmer Hammer’s many strong points; he could get people to relax in his company, in part because he acted as if he had all the time in the world just for them. When he was in that mode, courteous and concerned, he did not seem like a man tormented by complex affairs of state, but rather someone who was naturally open and honest, the kind of person you would like to have as a friend. The Countess slid off her shoes too. Helmer Hammer passed around cold water, which he had brought along in his bag, and laughed good-naturedly at Simonsen’s account of the photo search for the maids.
“So you thought that Malte Borup sold information from the police databases for G?”
“It sounded that way for a moment, and that made me furious. But the system was efficient enough: pictures of seven maids in less than half an hour is not bad going.”
“Yes, you should never underestimate informal systems. That’s one of the reasons I like this place so much. I have found many capable students for the ministries here . . . that is, without all the usual employment rigmarole. When there isn’t a university vacation, there are always a few promising young people here, reading or talking, so you get a proper impression of their potential.”
The Countess asked, “Do you come here often?”
“Not as much as I’d like, not any more unfortunately. But isn’t it lovely?”
Hammer threw out his arms as if he owned the garden, and continued.
“You should try coming here in early June when the magnolias are in full bloom. Then there’s the Palm House, a true architectural gem. It was finished in 1874, one of the first Danish buildings where exposed steel was used for the load-bearing construction, as with the Eiffel Tower. The architects were not even architects but gardeners, and the whole thing was due to beer.”
“Jacobsen the brewer was a patron, I believe?” queried Simonsen.
“He was, yes.”
Helmer Hammer let the rest of his mineral water slop around in small, centrifugal swirls, while he silently observed the movement inside the bottle. Then he continued speaking.
“Well, Assistant Detective of the First Degree Nathalie von Rosen, I’m not the only one who is interested in Danish history.”
The formal address was meant jokingly, but set things on a business footing. Surprisingly enough, it was Simonsen who responded.
“Both of us are interested, and it’s easy to explain why but hard to understand.”
“Okay then. Can I at least try?”
The power relationship between the homicide chief and the under secretary was as unequal as could be, and on top of that the police investigators’ historical research was ill-timed, to put it mildly. None the less Konrad Simonsen crumpled Helmer Hammer like a piece of used sandwich paper: first he described the Countess’s ominous H?je Taastrup telephone call without a trace of apology, then reviewed two specific examples of clairvoyance that had proved to be useful to the police, including the story about the moped drivers, this time narrated in spell-binding fashion. The Countess thoroughly enjoyed his performance, not least his lively descriptions and the way he refused to pour scorn on any of her actions. No one in his right mind would have done anything different if they had been warned in the same way, he implied. Obviously not, that would almost be dereliction of duty. Helmer Hammer was effectively up against the wall, a fact he quickly realised and humbly adapted to.
“I didn’t see that coming. Yes, it is a little hard to discuss this with you when you have mediums in your back pocket. Stick to him like a burr, what a great sentence, and it must be admitted you have done just that, Countess. And to top it off, with great competence. You have my unreserved admiration.”
The Countess nodded without saying anything. She felt more vindicated than ever about conducting her alternative investigation after Konrad Simonsen had described it in such glowing terms. He was right, it was simply something she had to do.
Helmer Hammer continued, still primarily addressing the Countess.