His presentation was to the point.
“Everything points to Helene Clausen having been sexually molested by her stepfather while she lived in Sweden. Neither her mother nor her stepfather is prepared to speak on the subject but several independent sources have confirmed this. There is also the fact that after Helene Clausen grew up, her stepfather found other victims. He was cited on two counts of sexual molestation of a minor in 1992. These cases were never prosecuted due to a lack of evidence.”
He patted the reports.
“These documents also contain an explicit report from a psychologist who no longer found it necessary to observe her doctor-patient confidentiality. She was also the one who recommended that Helene Clausen move back to Denmark.”
The Countess took the opportunity to ask a question: “What about Helene Clausen herself? Didn’t she confide in anyone?”
“It appears not, at least not directly to the psychologist. Apparently she blocked out her memories and tried to forget, which is not uncommon. On the other hand, we don’t know what happened during the years she was in Denmark.”
Simonsen hurried them along again: “That’s something we need to take a look at. Get a couple of officers going on it. Anything else, Arne?”
There actually was one other thing. The Swedish colleagues had asked him delicately, on two occasions, if the Danish police were concealing the sexual orientation of the victims, whatever that meant. He had denied this but it was evident that they did not believe him. He would have liked to share these episodes if Simonsen’s timetable had allowed for a discussion of minor matters. But apparently this was not the case, so he shook his head. But it still struck him as strange.
Berg’s trip to Roskilde had also been strange but not without results. The boy, who had played with his cousin at the Langeb?k School last Wednesday, had turned out to be a sweet and bright little thing with white-blond hair, prominent ears, freckles, and an appealingly frank and direct way with adults. With the mother’s help, she had been able to get the child to recall surprisingly quickly that day during the autumn holiday when he and his playmate had gathered bottle caps. In order to further stimulate his memory, the three of them had enacted this activity in the living room and this tactic had had the intended effect. The boy suddenly remembered that he had been chased away at one point by a man who looked like Buller’s father. Buller turned out to be another playmate. Berg’s heart skipped at this. The mother, who had grown alert to the fact that the information could turn out to be significant, did what she could to get the boy to elaborate on his description by going back over it step by step. But here they ran into a hurdle because although Buller’s father was dissected from top to bottom, there was nothing particular about him that apparently matched the unknown man at the school.
At this point the phone rang and the mother left them. Then the boy explained very secretively that the unknown man reminded him of Buller’s father because he drove a bus. He recognized the words bus driver. This piece of information was critical and unleashed further questions, which Berg, however, chose to wait with until she was joined by his parent. But when the mother returned, she had coldly and abruptly asked her to leave, without any additional explanation and without further comments. So from one minute to the next Borg had found herself outside the door, which slammed shut behind her.
Simonsen asked her, “That was rather strange. And you have no idea why?”
“No, none at all. I was thrown out. What should I do about it?”
“Leave, just as you did. You couldn’t do otherwise. That happens. You can’t be the hero every time.”
Berg blushed. Pedersen gazed up at the ceiling. Simonsen went on, unaffected.
“This reminds me of the fact that Per Clausen’s suicide was caused by a potassium solution. The pathologist called. I have canceled additional technical studies, as they simply will be a waste of time and resources. There must have been dozens of people who—”
The Countess cut him off and got his attention. No one else interrupted the boss.
“Simon, I can verify the van. Do you want to hear it?”
“Of course, of course. I am done anyway.”