“And you were in the same class as Helene Clausen for a year?”
“Yes, until she drowned, but I can’t remember her very well and I have to think hard even to remember her—you know, conjure her up in my mind’s eye. I can remember that when I first saw her I was on my guard. She was both pretty and smart so I spotted a potential rival.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, that was how I was. Well, I didn’t need to have worried. Helene turned out not to be very social and after that I didn’t pay much attention to her. I remember her death clearly of course. We made a lot of noise but forgot her almost immediately.”
“I have a picture of her if that would help.”
“No, that’s okay. I’d rather not. But anyway, we weren’t particularly tightly knit. Helen wasn’t close to anyone in the class.”
Troulsen thought that the observation was largely corroborated by the reports that he had read.
“You aren’t the first to say that,” he told her.
“No, she kept mostly to herself. That’s why I almost called and canceled, because I didn’t think I had anything to tell.”
He pricked up his ears. “But you didn’t?”
“No, I didn’t, because maybe I can help after all. At least a little. You see, in those days I kept a diary, and after you called, I looked in my old journals. It was no pleasure and there wasn’t much about Helene. Almost nothing. But it got my thoughts going and I suddenly remembered something. There was one time when Helene and I drove together. I can’t remember what we were doing or if anyone else from the class was with us, only that she insisted that we both put our seat belts on. I must have asked about it, but in any case she told me about a girlfriend who had been in a car accident. A really bad one. It was interesting that she used the word girlfriend. But unfortunately that is all that I can contribute.”
This did not trouble Troulsen.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “That may turn out to be an important piece of information.”
“This is about the murders at Langeb?k School?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if I want you to solve them.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the only one. You’re honest, at least.”
Troulsen stood up. She remained seated.
“I think it’s hard. On the one hand a crime has been committed, but on the other hand … it’s complicated.”
“I don’t share that opinion, but thank you for your time and thank you for your help.”
She followed him out.
Next, Troulsen drove to Helene Clausen’s old school, whistling happily. The reports did not mention a girlfriend from elementary school so he must have gotten something.
The Traneh?j School was an institution of the classical style. A four-story block of a building with two wings and a blacktop playground, bells on the walls, and dismantled water receptacles for thirsty children of the past. Signs to the school office were prominently placed, and in the front office he found a woman in her late forties. She had earphones on and was typing. Troulsen had to clear his throat a couple of times to get her attention.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you. Have you been here a long time? What can I help you with?”
“No, I’ve just turned up. Are you the school secretary?”
“The one and only.”
He took out his badge. “Poul Troulsen, from the Crime Division.”
She put the earpiece on the desk, where it kept burbling. “Well now, that sounds serious.”
“Not really. I’m here to get some information about a former pupil.”
“By the name of?”
“Well, you see, that’s the problem. How long have you worked here?”
“Longer than I care to think. I’ll be celebrating my twenty-fifth anniversary next year.”
“That sounds perfect. Ninth grade in 1992–93 and it is a girl.”
“We’ve had more than a couple of those. I hope you have a little more information.”
She had a heartwarming smile. Troulsen smiled back in return.
“Yes, I do. She was in a car accident, apparently serious.”
He was prepared to go on, to talk about the friendship with Helene Clausen, but the woman shut her eyes and held a finger up in the air. He waited.
Shortly thereafter, her face relaxed.
“Emilie. Her name was Emilie. Yes, it was a terrible accident. Both of the girls were hurt. It happened up by Helsing?r, and it was Emilie’s own fault. She was speeding and had been drinking. But in the end they both recovered.”
Troulsen frowned. It didn’t add up. Students in the ninth grade did not have their licenses, but the secretary explained the discrepancy before he spoke.
“That was the older sister. She was a fair bit older than the younger one, maybe four, five years or so, and she was the one I remember. She was here at a school-anniversary celebration and we chatted a little bit. I can’t remember anything about the little sister, only that she was in the accident, and it was just after she had left the school.”