Hardy nodded when the woman answered with a torrent of abuse that was so outdated the phrases were extinct.
“Oh, I believe you must be mistaken, Mrs. Zimmermann. I don’t know who you think I am, but you’re speaking to Head of Department Valdemar Uhlendorff from the probate court. We are handling the will of your deceased mother, Rigmor Zimmermann, and have a few questions to ask you in that connection. Is that something you could help me with?”
The silence made it clear how confused the woman was and how hard she was struggling to appear composed despite her hangover.
“Of course, I’ll . . . try,” she said affectedly.
“Thank you. We know that your mother withdrew ten thousand kroner shortly before her sad demise. And according to you, she still had the money when she visited you shortly before the fatal attack. Do you have any idea at all what she needed the money for, Birgit Zimmermann? We’re always concerned about making sure we don’t overlook any claims, and we wouldn’t want anything concerning your mother to arise and have to be settled at a later date. Did your mother owe money to anyone as far as you know? Maybe a private individual who she intended to pay the same day? Or could she have been considering a special purchase that she didn’t manage to make?”
This time the silence was significantly long. Had she fallen asleep, or was she simply searching her dimmed brain?
“A purchase, I believe,” she finally answered. “Perhaps a fur coat that she had been talking about.”
It definitely didn’t sound convincing. Where would you buy a fur coat that late?
“We know that she often used her Visa card, so we find it odd that she would have such a large amount of cash on her person. But maybe she just liked to have ready cash on her. Is that the case?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly.
“But ten thousand kroner? That’s quite a lot.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you further,” she said in a quivering voice. Had she started crying?
She hung up.
They looked at each other.
“Good work, Hardy.”
“Out of the mouths of babes and drunkards, as the phrase might as well be. She was lying, but you know that, I assume?”
Carl nodded. “Buy a fur coat with cash? The daughter is creative, I’ll give her that.” Carl smiled. He had spent two minutes of blissful nostalgia watching the man do what he did best like back in the old days.
“You called yourself Uhlendorff. Where the heck did that come from?”
“I know a guy who bought a holiday house where there had once lived an Uhlendorff. But can we agree that you need to scrutinize both Rigmor and Birgit Zimmermann’s more recent bank history? There could well be correlations between withdrawals and deposits.”
Carl nodded again. “Yes, she might have brought the money for her daughter. But then why would she still have it on her after leaving her daughter’s apartment? Can you tell me that?”
“Tell me, is it you or me who’s being paid for police work, Carl? Just asking.”
They both turned their faces toward Morten, who was standing on the staircase to the first floor gasping for breath, barely visible underneath the black rubbish bags he was carrying.
“I found some of Mika’s old gym clothes down there. Can I put those in the attic too, Carl?” asked Morten, his face bright red from walking up and down the ladder.
“Yes, if you can find any room.”
“There’s enough room. Apart from all Jesper’s belongings and a lot of boxes with Vigga’s jigsaws and that sort of thing, there’s only a pair of skis and a locked suitcase up there. Do you have any idea what’s in it, Carl?”
He frowned. “That’s probably something of Vigga’s as well. I’ll check it someday. You wouldn’t want a severed corpse up there without knowing, would you?” He laughed at Morten’s reaction. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with his imagination.
—
“What would you rather do today, Assad? Trudge around with Gordon in the area around the King’s Garden and check for places where Rigmor Zimmermann might have flashed her cash, or try to find a current or former employee at the steel plant who knows about the circumstances surrounding Rose’s dad’s accident?”
Assad looked at him as if he was stupid. “Don’t you think I know what you’re up to, Carl? Do I look like a camel cow that just lost its calf?”
“Uh, I’m not sure I . . .”
“When the camel cow is grieving, it doesn’t produce milk. Just lies down flat on the ground and nothing in the world can get it up again. Not until it gets a hard slap on the ass.”
“Uh . . .”
“Of course the last one, Carl.”
Now he didn’t follow at all.
“I’ll find that man from the steel plant, okay? And you can just drop that idea with Gordon. He already looked around there yesterday just after we’d seen Mona. Didn’t he tell you he was going to do that?”
Carl was speechless.
“Yes, that’s right,” confirmed Gordon a minute later in the situation room. “I visited every kiosk, bar, restaurant, and even the hot-dog van. Everywhere between Store Kongensgade and Kronprinsessegade, and between Gothersgade and Fredericiagade. I showed them all a photo of Rigmor Zimmermann, and a few of them recognized her without any hesitation but hadn’t seen her for some time. So I have no explanation as to why she might have waved her money in front of anyone in that area.”
Carl was taken aback. The guy must have rushed from place to place in order to visit them all within that time. Finally there was an advantage to his abnormally long legs.
“I’m trying to track down Rose’s friend from school,” he continued. “I called Rose’s old school and the secretary was able to confirm that a new girl joined Rose’s class in 1994. Her name was Karoline, like Yrsa told us in Mona’s office. The school doesn’t have the records anymore, but one of the old teachers remembers both Rose and Karoline. He even remembers that Karoline’s surname was Stavnsager.”
Carl gave him a thumbs-up.
“Yeah, I haven’t found anyone under that name yet, but I’ll get there, Carl. We owe that to Rose, don’t we?”
—
An hour later Assad was standing in Carl’s doorway.
“I’ve found a former employee from the steel plant. His name’s Leo Andresen and he’s a member of a historical society for retired employees up there. He said he’d try to find someone who was there in section W15 when Rose’s dad was killed.”
Carl looked up from his paperwork.
“A lot has happened up there since then, Carl. The plant was taken over by Russians in 2002. The company was split up into separate companies, and there are only three hundred employees left from the thousands who used to work there. He said that there have been billions invested in the place, so it looks very different today.”
“That’s hardly surprising given that the accident happened seventeen years ago, Assad. But what about the section you mentioned? Is that still intact so we can inspect the scene of the accident?”