Troulsen groaned inwardly. It was just this kind of thing that made an investigation so difficult.
“Anyway, there was more and more order in Per’s life, the more he and Jeremy talked. The therapy helped. But there isn’t much of a concrete nature that I know about the course of the therapy because Jeremy never discussed his patients. They demanded privacy and Jeremy was happy to give it to them. The patients had their own entrance and I was basically not even supposed to show myself in my own garden when they came or went. I did learn a little bit later on but paradoxically it was through Per. After a year of consultation he joined a self-help group.”
She stopped. The word hung in the air. Also the small tremor in her voice when she said it. She was far from stupid and must have thought about the importance of her knowledge for a long time, and Troulsen noticed how his resentment of her suddenly grew explosively inside him. He had to exert a great deal of control to remain calm.
“Why haven’t you contacted us?”
The question leaped straight over a great many things and she could easily have deflected it in the first round but she made no attempt to do so.
“I don’t really know. Maybe I just hoped I wouldn’t get involved. And I don’t have any names of the people involved in the group. I’m not even sure how many there were.” She stared straight out in front of her before she resumed. “There’s no doubt in my opinion that it was wrong to kill those people. Very wrong and Jeremy would also have thought so, but I’m not sure that it has anything to do with…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Perhaps because she herself didn’t believe it.
Troulsen said gravely, “You won’t be able to go to work today. I have to take you in to the police headquarters in Copenhagen.”
Emilie Mosberg Floyd realized immediately that she had no choice.
“I guess so.” She nodded thoughtfully and repeated, “I guess so.”
Troulsen could not have agreed more.
CHAPTER 53
Anita Dahlgren sat in the cafeteria at the Dagbladet. She was alone at her table, which was just as well because one of the many unwritten rules of the paper forbade cell phone conversations at lunch, and she was breaking that law. On the other hand, a higher authority mandated that employees get good news, so the dinner invitation she had just received from Kasper Planck compensated for her lawbreaking, she decided. At any rate, she ignored the irritated glances of her colleagues. The invitation was a surprise and at first she was both happy and flattered. But this delight wilted somewhat in light of the matters she discussed next.
“So are you telling me that I should buy the groceries myself and make the meal?” She listened. The old man’s rudeness was outrageous. “Tell me why I’m not hanging up on you. I don’t understand it myself.”
A colleague at a nearby table shouted that it seemed like a really good idea. At the same time, Anni Staal appeared and sat down across from her, as if materializing out of thin air. It was an amazing feat given what she was carrying. In one hand she was expertly holding two bottles of beer with glasses set upside down over the top. Without interrupting, she pushed one beer across the table.
Anita wrapped things up: “Yes, I do know that you’re a weak old man, but … and … I’ll do what you say. I’ll see you tomorrow at five.”
The conversation was impossible with her boss sitting one meter away, which was why she capitulated—two minutes before it would probably have happened anyway. She aggressively turned her attention to Anni. Whatever was outwardly lost had to be conquered internally.
“I don’t drink beer at this time of day. What do you want? I’m on break.”
Anni smiled ironically. “I actually don’t either.”
“Then why did you buy them, for God’s sake?”
“Because this is personal, and because we are Danish. We don’t talk about personal things without beer, do we?”
Anita realized the logic of this. One had to honor one’s cultural heritage. She gave in and took a swig, but without any kind of toast. That would have been too much. Anni also drank. Afterward, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You don’t like me, do you?”
It was a silly question. They both knew the answer and it came curtly: “No, I don’t like you. You are good at what you do and I can learn from you but I don’t like you.”
“Well, you aren’t the only one. I’ve learned to live with it over time.”
“In the best, most arrogant way.”
“If you say so. I didn’t come here to quarrel with you.”
“Then why?”
“You have a really good source in the Homicide Division, isn’t that true?”
“Did you really think that I would answer that question?”
“Please note that I have not asked who it is, only if you have one. But, all right, it’s fairly easy to guess who it is so you don’t have to say anything. I’ll assume that is how it is.”