Simonsen grunted impatiently but this did not affect Poul Troulsen. A good presentation took time.
“According to Kasper Planck, the kiosk owner, Farshad Bakht?sh?, and his sons now recall that that the woman in red had a slight limp.”
“So what if she did?”
“It could be nothing, but there’s something else, and this time it has to do with the piece of paper with the woman’s name and address. One of the sons thought of a detail that struck him as unusual. The address that the woman wrote down was a street, so it ended in vej. That’s of course too common to be helpful in itself but the unusual thing is the dot over the j, which was shaped like a heart.”
“Which means?”
“Well, I grew up in J?gersborg and I know that in Gentofte County there is a distinctive detail in the street signs. If the street sign ends in vej then the dot over the j is printed as a little red heart. Other js or is for that matter are printed with a regular dot. This information is public but in practice it is only people from Gentofte who recognize the heart. Some find it so cute and appealing that they reproduce it in writing their addresses. My mother, for example, always wrote hearts over her j when sending a postcard. To this you can add the fact that the woman in red is most likely wealthy, which fits very well with the profile of that county.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that it seems reasonable to assume that our mysterious woman is from Gentofte. Go on.”
“Per Clausen had two connections to Gentofte in his life. In part through his own childhood and in part through his daughter’s schooling. The woman’s age indicates that the connection between the two of them originated through his daughter.”
“Sounds plausible enough, but now you are building a maybe on another maybe.”
Poul Troulsen ignored the objection and continued: “After her return to Sweden in January 1993, Helene Clausen entered ninth grade at the Traneh?j School in Gentofte. The following school year she started the first year at Auregaard Gymnasium, which lies right next door. That she was admitted in a school in Gentofte County when she lived in Gladsaxe should immediately have raised questions. It isn’t very common.”
“I know the story as well as you,” Simonsen interrupted.
Troulsen glanced skeptically at him. There were now hundreds of reports in the case files and he had realized the connections only yesterday. Simonsen caught his disbelief and said quickly and sourly, “We were inattentive, yes, but after a couple of days these connections were revealed by Arne’s trip to Sweden. When Helene Clausen came back to Denmark she refused therapy. Her father did the next best thing. He had a colleague whose wife worked with traumatized children in Copenhagen and was also tied to the Traneh?j School as a psychologist. Per Clausen looked her up and she promised to help. She talked to a friend about cross-county flexibility regarding the girl’s schooling. The friend was married to the mayor of Gentofte at the time. Unfortunately, Helene Clausen never received professional counseling. It may have cost eight people their lives. And in future, kindly refrain from doubting me when I say that I know.”
“I’m sorry, I just figured that with the volume of paper…”
“Let’s move on. Poul. Where do you want to start? We have had a team at the school and one at the gymnasium and they have done a reasonable bit of work. What can you add to the investigation?”
“Maybe nothing, but their task was primarily to shed light on whether or not Helene Clausen had been sexually abused during her time in Sweden as well as to clarify the circumstances surrounding her death. What they did not look into was any ties between Per Clausen and his daughter’s classmates.”
Simonsen nodded. “Hm, you have a point there.”
“Exactly, and the work already done gives me an excellent point of departure. It is clear from the reports that the girls in room one-A, class of 1993, at Auregaard Gymnasium had an informal leader of sorts. Today she owns a small temp agency in Hellerup and I have an appointment with her.”
Simonsen folded his hands and stared up at the ceiling. Then he made up his mind. “You are probably out hunting ghosts. Start with a renewed search for a silver-colored Porsche now that the area can be limited to Gentofte and then keep your cell phone on. Good luck.”
CHAPTER 50