Anneli considered her next move, trying to forget the horrible feeling that they could suddenly be closing in on her and her crimes.
She had considered killing her next victim this evening and already knew who it should be. She wasn’t a pretty girl, which was a clever move considering the newspaper description of the other two girls’ beautiful looks. Her new victim had steadily and stubbornly changed over the years from a demanding girl with too high an opinion of herself to an unpleasant, overweight brat with bad manners and a fashion sense that even girls in the former USSR would have turned their noses up at.
She called herself Roberta in an attempt to hide her real name, Bertha. And she was one of Anneli’s many aversions, having bled more money out of the system than anyone else in her time as a caseworker. The number of boots she had asked to have money to replace over the years because they had split on account of her fat calves. Her gifted ability to ignore warnings, fobbing it off as forgetfulness. Not a single plan to get her back to work had resulted in anything other than excuses. And she had taken sanctions and reduced benefits on the chin, borrowing money all over the place when she could find someone who would help her out. The result was that she had managed to incur painful debts of more than one and a half million kroner when Anneli had applied for a transfer. That was four years ago, so it wouldn’t come as any surprise if the debt had more than doubled in size since then.
A quick search online and Anneli had found her. She was still living on the same side street off Amagerbrogade in a block of small apartments with plenty of pubs nearby. Anneli was sure that she could find her in one of these pubs, sprawled out on a barstool with a wall of cigarette smoke between her beer glass and the man next to her, whom she had probably roped into paying the bill.
Anneli had once turned up for a home visit with Bertha Lind only to find a locked door and nobody home. Having done the rounds of the local pubs, she eventually found her in Café Nordpolen, where they had a short argument about breaching agreements. Since then, Anneli had not gone out of her way to help her.
No, Bertha Lind was no paragon of virtue and no role model either. It was unlikely that she would get the same front-page coverage as the other more attractive victims.
The problem now, however, was that with all this newspaper coverage, the jack was out of the box, so to speak. She would have to reevaluate her plan. Bertha would have to wait for now.
—
When she finished work, she made a quick decision and cycled to Sydhavnen, where Jazmine lived.
She stood outside the red building for half an hour, sizing it up and observing the surroundings. When she killed Jazmine in a hit-and-run, it certainly couldn’t take place here. In part because Borgmester Christiansens Gade was far too busy, even at the end where it was closed off, and partly because there was a constant stream of people on the other side doing their shopping in Fakta or just hanging around in the square. So Anneli had to keep to her original plan to just keep an eye on the girl and then improvise later. At some time or other, one of Jazmine’s habits or vices would reveal a weak spot and inspire an idea of where the hit-and-run could take place.
She looked up at the third floor, where Jazmine had always been registered as living. According to the records, the only other person living there was her mother, Karen-Louise J?rgensen. Surely a woman who had had to put up with her fair share, what with all the pregnancies Jazmine had involved her in. But wasn’t Karen-Louise J?rgensen the one who had raised this little devil, and wasn’t she responsible for the way she had turned out? So there was no reason to feel sorry for her either.
But what if Jazmine didn’t live there anymore? What if like so many others she used her parents’ address while actually living with some guy or other who didn’t want to lose his government housing money? Maybe Anneli would be lucky and discover that Jazmine had moved to an address that was more remote.
She searched for the mother’s telephone number on her smartphone and pressed dial. After a short pause, she had contact.
“I’d like to talk with Jazmine,” she said, disguising her voice.
“Do you, now? And who might you be?” Her voice sounded very affected. A bit odd for this neighborhood.
“Uh, I’m her friend, Henriette.”
“Henriette? I’ve never heard Jazmine mention a Henriette. But you’re calling in vain, Henriette. Jazmine doesn’t live here anymore.”
Anneli nodded. So her intuition had been right.
“Really? That’s a shame. Where can I get ahold of her, then?”
“You are the second girl who’s asked for Jazmine today, but at least you speak Danish properly. Why are you asking? What do you want with her?”
It was a very direct question. What the hell did it have to do with her? Jazmine was a grown woman.
She could see Jazmine’s mother step forward, standing with her cell phone at the window. Wearing a dressing gown at this time of day. What a role model.
“I borrowed some money from Jazmine when I needed to buy some Christmas presents, and now that I finally have some money again I want to pay her back.”
“That sounds odd. Jazmine never has any money. How much?”
“Sorry?”
“How much do you owe her?”
“Two thousand two hundred,” she revealed.
It went silent for a moment at the other end. “Two thousand two hundred, you said?” came the response. “Listen, Henriette, Jazmine owes me a lot of money, so you can just give it to me.”
Anneli was taken aback. She was one determined bitch.
“Okay, I can do that. But I’ll need to call Jazmine first and tell her.”
She sounded disappointed. “You do that, then. Good-bye.”
No, no, no, you can’t hang up, that won’t help me one bit! Anneli screamed inside. “I live out in Vanl?se,” she blurted out. “Isn’t it close by? Then I can tell her in person.”
“I have no idea if it’s close by. She has just moved to Stenl?se, and I don’t know exactly where that is, just like I told the other person who called. I think Jazmine is still having her mail delivered here, so I’ll see her sooner or later, and then I can just tell her that you gave me the money.”
“Stenl?se? Actually, yes, I think I heard something about that. On Lilletoftvej, right?” She had no idea if there was a road with that name in Stenl?se, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“No, that’s not it. Of course, she didn’t tell me directly. Why would she? After all, I’m just her mother. But I overheard her speaking to someone on her cell. Something about sandals, as far as I could hear. But remember to give the money to me, okay? Don’t give it to her.”