He turned in surprise. A girl was standing behind him. She was around sixteen years of age with black matted hair, worn jeans, a ring in her nose, and peeling nail polish in a vibrant shade of red. Her sweater was unraveling on one arm and she was wearing two different, extremely worn sneakers. There were no laces in one and the ones on the other were undone. Her clear eyes shone with intelligence.
“Dad has all of his books, even the yearbooks from Land and Folk. He collected them in his Red Period.”
Simonsen did not really know what to say, and decided on an affable smile.
“Is he still with you?”
“He was called in, apparently something important. It’s like that all the time. It’s always very important and extremely irritating. Are you the one who is supposed to find the ones who killed the five men in Bagsv?rd?”
“Yes, me and a whole lot of other people.”
“I hope you don’t find them.”
She said this without aggression, more as a considered opinion that should naturally be respected. Against his better judgment, Simonsen found himself impressed with her self-confidence.
“And why is that?”
“Because the five men were child molesters, of course.”
He had denied this rumor at least ten times in the past twenty-four hours. He had even gone so far as to issue a press release, which, as far as he knew, was unprecedented. The dead men had still not been identified, so their sexual predilections could belong only to the realm of speculation, even though the information he had uncovered lately surprisingly enough seemed to speak for there being truth to the rumors. He could not bear to start the day, however, where he had stopped it last night and definitely not before breakfast, so he decided not to correct her. Nor was it particularly likely that she would allow her opinions to be derailed by mere facts. Why would she, when no one else did? He chose another line of argumentation, and looked her straight in the eye.
“Last time I looked in the law books, there was nothing in it about the right to kill pedophiles.”
She returned his gaze without faltering. Her voice was friendly, albeit with a note of mockery, as if she were explaining something to a sweet but not overly bright younger brother: “If you are looking for things that are allowed, the law book is a bad place to start.”
Piqued, he shifted his gaze.
He was rescued by her father, who was finally finished with his call.
“And if you don’t get your backpack and get going, you can start looking for a paper route for your pocket money.”
Helmer Hammer’s show of anger was unnecessary. He was clearly proud of his offspring, for which one could hardly blame him.
“Yes, Daddy dear.”
She kissed him quickly on the cheek and left. Almost. She turned to them in the doorway and her smile could have melted an icicle. Her final words were aimed at Simonsen: “Dad always speaks nicely about you, he likes you, he just doesn’t show it. That’s one of his weaknesses. You’re welcome.”
Her shoelace dragged on the floor behind her as she walked away.
Breakfast was excellent and the subsequent conversation disheartening. Simonsen had both good and bad news from the medical examiner’s office. He started with the positive: “Today I’ll get likenesses of at least two of the victims and supposedly they are lifelike enough to be published in the media. That will almost certainly lead to an identification.”
“Sounds good. I allowed myself to place a call to the professor yesterday, but … eh…” The police chief hesitated. “He claimed that I was an illusion. That I simply wasn’t aware of it myself.”
“He can be a little odd at times.”
“Yes, you could say that.”
“You should come with me sometime. I’m good at handling the old codger.”
That was a lie. No one was good at handling Arthur Elvang and least of all Simonsen. He was simply more accustomed to embarrassment and therefore more prepared than most.
Hammer nodded and left the subject.
“In my line of work there isn’t anything called sin or shame. You either deliver the goods or you don’t. I was supposed to set the agenda, reassure the public, give you time to work in peace, and I haven’t managed very well with any of it. If at all.”
He was silent for a couple of seconds, then continued: “If there is a thing that politicians hate, it is getting relevant questions that they have no idea how to answer. I understand that all too well.”