“Yes, I did, but mostly Per. My relationship to Helene was secondary. She was friends with my little sister, not me. They were in the same year at school, but you know that.”
The answer was a little surprising and sounded promising. Troulsen was definitely more interested in the father than the daughter and he was not without a sense of anticipation. However, he forced himself to proceed methodically.
“Perhaps you could tell me a little about your own background first?”
She nodded.
“That sounds reasonable. So, I was born and raised here in Gentofte. In 1992 I went to the university and began my medical studies. The following year my little sister and I had a bad accident in my father’s car. I was half drunk and fell asleep at the wheel. It was during summer vacation. We were both badly hurt and our recovery took almost a year. But the psychological damage was the worst. When I resumed my studies, I was still not fully recovered. I had problems concentrating and frequent crying fits. One day I was visited by a psychiatrist by the name of Jeremy Floyd, who was the chief physician at the Sexology Clinic at the National Hospital. Even though my problems did not fall within his area of specialization, he had promised one of my instructors to give me fifteen minutes of his time, primarily to urge me to seek professional help. Four months later we were married and it changed my life. I bore and raised our two sons and studied at the same time. For a couple of years I worked constantly if I wasn’t sleeping. In 2001 I graduated and was then employed at the National Hospital, where I am doing my residency in cardiology. Last year Jeremy died in an accident. His other great passion other than his family was mountain climbing, and it killed him. Aconcagua took him.”
She glanced at him and Troulsen nodded. He assumed that Aconcagua was a mountain but did not want to interrupt her in order to ask. She went on, but only briefly: “The past few years I have been alone with the children, who right at this moment happen to be on a camping trip.”
After giving him the information about her children’s whereabouts she had apparently reached the end of her narrative. Her stressed expression was exaggerated when she checked her watch. Troulsen ignored it. Instead, he gave her a couple of key words: “Helene and Per Clausen?”
She emptied her coffee cup and refilled it, starting to talk again at a slightly faster clip.
“Helene Clausen was a friend of my little sister, as I mentioned. My sister’s name is Katja, Katja Mosberg, and she lives in Austria. Her partner is a Norwegian who works for the foreign service—the Norwegian one, that is. Helene started in Katja’s class in 1993. She came from Sweden, where she had lived for a few years with her mother and stepfather. Helene was shy and introverted but she and Katja got along well and they spent quite a bit of time together. Among other things they did their homework together and complemented each other well. Helene was uniquely gifted in mathematics, physics, and chemistry—anything to do with natural science. On the other hand, she was not so good at Danish, probably because of her many years in Sweden. Katja was just the opposite: good at Danish and bad at math. Unfortunately, the bad-math gene is something we share and you might say it’s the reason that I got to know Per, because when Katja and Helene were in ninth grade I was in my first year of medical school and my worst subject by far was statistics. All my fellow students were sweating over anatomy or some of the more traditional medical classes, but statistics threatened to cut short my career before it had even begun. I simply didn’t understand it and even today I start to feel ill if someone mentions regression analysis or significance level.”
She smiled as if she wanted to apologize for her lack of statistical knowledge. Troulsen thought that if he ever developed heart problems he wouldn’t care if his surgeon could handle probabilities. Again she glanced at her watch, this time without trying to hide it, and he knew they would have to wrap it up soon.
“Katja talked to Per about me. She has always been a busybody, making arrangements for other people, but in this case there was a good outcome. Per was very happy about Katja and Helene’s friendship and he was also a sweet man who liked being helpful if he could. He started tutoring me. One or two evenings a week, for free. He didn’t even want to hear the mention of money. My father was happy to pay for anything that had to do with his daughters’ education. But back then Per was making a good salary himself.”
She shook her head and corrected herself: “No, I take that back. He wouldn’t have taken any money even if he had been as poor as a church mouse. He was like that. Always helpful.”