“Last Thursday we talked about demonization, about public morality and humanity. Per took as his starting point the large numbers of German refugees that Denmark was forced to accept at the end of the war in 1945—that is to say, mainly people who were fleeing from the advancing red armies in the east. After liberation, the authorities refused to grant these people medical care, and this was not because there was a shortage of medical care, or because there was no need for it, but simply because they were German. This resulted in a number of deaths, especially among children, who could have been saved.”
She recited, “‘If you hammer in the idea of an “us” and a “them” into the national consciousness, then the majority of the population will passively accept anything. Especially in these times when there is no common moral denominator to be found.’”
“That is your brother’s claim?”
“To the extent that I can remember it, yes, but I think I do. Naturally I disagree with him, I have to.”
“It sounds a bit fascist to my ears.”
“Per is no fascist. I don’t believe he has any political orientation whatsoever, and if he has one, he is a confirmed cynic.”
“We see him as a bit of a provocateur, if that is the right word. What do you say to that?”
“That it’s true. Per does like to tease people but it is seldom mean-spirited, and if he runs circles around you it’s just to show that he can.”
“What does he get out of it?”
“Nothing except a crooked little smile.”
She smiled to herself.
“Hm, interesting. Back to the question of relationships—do you talk about them?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“If we do, it’s always with a kind of agreement.”
“I’m not sure I understand. Can you elaborate a little further?”
She reflected on this for a while before replying.
“As you must know, there was a period when Per drank a great deal. He was an alcoholic, no doubt about it. We never talked about it but after a couple of years when he got more control over his alcohol abuse we did sometimes talk about it, that he was beginning to live a healthier lifestyle.”
“A kind of code?”
“You could call it that, but ‘indirect little comments’ covers it better. Of course it is a silly way to communicate. You can never know if both people mean the same things with the same words, but that’s how it went. And it certainly doesn’t happen very often that we touch on personal matters.”
“So you are not very close to your brother?”
“I don’t think anyone is. I’m no exception.”
“You say that he used to drink. It began when your niece drowned?”
“Yes, it did. It was intense and very self-destructive; I think Per was trying to punish himself.”
“Did he feel guilty about his daughter’s death?”
“Yes, of course, and on top of that he was desperately unhappy.”
“How was their relationship?”
“I don’t know except that he loved her very much. Helene was a delightful child.”
“Tell me about her. What was she like?”
“Fragile. Fragile and gifted. She had inherited her father’s intellect, but not his robustness. She was also quite pretty. Probably took after her mother; that kind of thing doesn’t exist in our side of the family.”
Troulsen asked further questions about the girl. Simonsen had discussed the interview with him by phone the whole way from Nyborg to Odense, and Helene Clausen’s fate was one of the subjects he was expected to clarify. But the girl’s aunt was unable to shed much light; beyond the fact that the girl had had a nervous temperament, nothing of interest was revealed. He focused on the topic of her death.
“Do you know the details of the circumstances that led to her death?”
“Not really. She drowned but you already know that. It was a summer evening in 1994 at a Bellevue Beach with her school friends. More than that I don’t know.”
“You say that he felt guilty about her death. Why is that?”
“It’s hard to explain. Perhaps he felt he hadn’t watched carefully enough over her.”
“Do you think he didn’t?”
This time she waited so long before speaking that he thought she was not going to answer. When she finally said something, the result was not in proportion to the time taken to prepare it.
“I don’t know.”
He tested the waters gingerly: “Do you want to tell me what you think?”
Again a pause, as long as before.
“I think that Per came to say goodbye this last week. I think that my brother intends to do away with himself. I believe that Helene was a mental wreck when she returned from Sweden. And I believe that he was involved in the terrible things that happened at the school where he worked.”
Troulsen felt blown away in his chair.
“That was something.”
“Yes, I know, but it won’t help you to ask more questions. I have nothing concrete to give you and what I just said is based on vague feelings and may be completely wrong.”
She was right once more. He probed and probed for almost two hours before he gave up, after which she—despite his halfhearted protests—showed him up to the guest room.
CHAPTER 21