He looked directly into her eyes.
“If you make one wrong move, or if the Countess needs more help, you will immediately be replaced and I don’t want to hear any griping about it afterwards. Understood?”
“Completely, and I appreciate this vote of confidence. I think it is a reasonable decision.”
“It’s not a decision yet. You only have two hours with the Countess, use the time wisely.”
She did. She was out before Pedersen had time to stand up.
*
Stig ?ge Thorsen and his lawyer arrived on time and that Berg had interpreted the situation correctly was revealed early on. The witness apparently did not appreciate being in close proximity to two women, and especially the close contact with the younger woman appeared to embarrass him. He basically whipped his hand back when Berg warmly and kindly laid her hand on his as she greeted him. Simonsen and Pedersen were sitting behind the mirror. Simonsen said, “She’s right. Did you see that? It’s obvious if you’re looking for it. See how he pulls back. He may not even be aware of it himself. His lawyer is not, at any rate.”
In the interrogation room, the Countess was gesturing and explaining something to the lawyer.
“Please have a seat. As you can see, we have had to rearrange the furniture in here temporarily but I think we can manage.”
They had in all haste managed to get hold of a relatively small square table with a chair placed on each of the four sides so that Berg would be able to sit close to Stig ?ge Thorsen regardless of which chair the lawyer chose.
Simonsen commented with enthusiasm, “It’s brilliant.”
Arne Pedersen asked half sulkily, “What happened with the television program anyway? Weren’t they going to come today?”
“It’s been postponed for the moment, whatever consequences that may have. There was apparently some other programming that was more important but hold your peace for a moment and we’ll follow this.”
*
The next half hour was tough for Stig ?ge Thorsen. His well-rehearsed defensive postures were of only marginal help and the Countess drove him around the ring with strikes from all angles.
“Your car was in an accident on the eighteenth of November 2003, when someone drove into it parked on Lille Strandvej in Gentofte. What were you doing there?”
He had never been in Gentofte. He pushed back a copy of the accident report. It must be a misunderstanding.
“Who paid for your cruise to Greece? Was it the same stranger?’
He wavered, could not recall, refused to answer, and finally claimed that he had been saving up for the trip for many years.
“In April you turned to Frederiksv?rk St?lvalsev?rk and bought a pile of coal that the factory had lying around in the old commercial port. What were you going to do with it?”
It was nice to have on hand. He had ended up using it to burn the minivan, but that had not been planned.
“How was your childhood? Your old teacher from the Kregme School said that you had a difficult childhood. Is that true?”
He had had a normal childhood, a perfectly one-hundred-percent-normal childhood, and the teacher was crazy, a demented old fool.
“You attacked a woman on the beach in Saloniki. What happened there?”
The lawyer jumped in at this point but the accusation had effect. Stig ?ge Thorsen looked like a whipped dog.
The Countess went on and on, jumping from subject to subject, poking here, then there, bringing up things that had him on the ropes only to return to them ten minutes later with double the intensity, and soon the farmer started to show small signs of mental fatigue. Tripping over a sentence, a finger rubbing an eye, a twitch at his temple, anger, irritation, and then carelessness. After the dress rehearsal she drove it home.
“Do you know Jeremy Floyd?”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“I can get him in and pick you out of a lineup. Is that what you want?”
Berg stepped in. She had said nothing to this point. Now she carefully opposed the Countess: “But, but he is…”
The Countess waved her away. “I know that he is a psychiatrist, but his professional vows of silence don’t mean anything in a homicide case such as this one. So, Mr. Thorsen, should I arrange a face-to-face meeting?”
Berg insisted, “But, but…”
“Not now,” the Countess snapped. The lawyer was perplexed, and Stig ?ge Thorsen took the bite.
“He’s dead, so you can’t arrange anything.”
“Hm, well, I guess that changes things a bit. It surprises me that…”
Simonsen’s smile was wide and self-congratulatory. “He didn’t even realize he was contradicting himself.”
Pedersen answered, “Nor his lawyer. He’s just sitting there like a sphinx. He’s not much help.”
“Don’t be fooled by his posture. He’s good. I know him. But you are right, it seems as if he doesn’t want to do more than he absolutely has to.”