“Do we know if they had been in contact with each other immediately before the attack?” asked Bente Hansen, who on top of being amiable and in possession of a good sense of humor, carried out her investigative work impeccably.
“No. Michelle Hansen’s cell phone was crushed along with the bones in her hand. It’s with forensics, but the SIM card is a write-off, so we need to get on the telephone company to check her calls. I’m sure I don’t need to say that the body was found in a terrible state. According to the children, she was almost pulled under the car.”
“And Patrick Pettersson’s cell phone?”
“Yes, he was cooperative and let us check his history. Michelle Hansen sent him a text saying she would come over to his apartment but doesn’t say when. However, they could have been in contact via other means, and he may have known where she was staying. That is, if it was him.”
“It was him,” grunted Pasg?rd. He was obviously keen on a quick result.
“Furthermore, we have a strong hunch that Birna Sigurdardottir—the woman who was taken to Copenhagen University Hospital last night at zero thirty-two hours with a life-threatening gun wound to the chest from a shooting that took place in the alleyway directly beside the nightclub—has a direct connection to the robbery.”
“What exactly is that hunch based on?” asked Ploug.
“On her criminal record. Her presence at the nightclub. Her aggressive personality, which has resulted in several cases of extreme violence. She had a knife in her hand when she was found, which could indicate that she was involved in a standoff with one of the robbers. Of course, we know the caliber of the weapon that was used, which was the same nine-millimeter caliber as the Luger that was used to threaten the manager of the nightclub. And finally, we can determine that she was shot ten meters down the alleyway from where she was found. The drag marks from the wall to the edge of the sidewalk are clear, so we can assume that someone wanted to save her. We presume that the perpetrator or perpetrators were probably women, just like we know the perpetrators of the robbery were women, and that they may have had a close connection with the woman who was shot.”
“Wasn’t that the stupidest thing to do? To leave her for dead somewhere where other people could find her? Wouldn’t they be worried that Birna could rat on the perpetrator or perpetrators?” asked Bente Hansen.
“You would think so. But the girls who are suspects—and who make up the rank and file of Sigurdardottir’s girl gang known as the Black Ladies—are not the brightest sparks, so to speak.”
Several of them laughed, but not Bente Hansen. “Is there anything to indicate a direct link between Patrick Pettersson and this gang?”
“No. And in that connection, it should be noted that Pettersson has a clean record.”
“And what about Michelle Hansen?”
“No, we haven’t been able to prove any link between her and the gang.”
“Do we know if Birna Sigurdardottir will pull through?”
Lars Bj?rn shrugged. “It doesn’t look that way, but we hope so, of course.”
Carl nodded. That would be the easiest way to solve the case.
—
“If the girl doesn’t survive, they’re going to have their work cut out up there,” said Assad on his way down the circular staircase.
“Yes, but it’ll give us a bit of breathing room.” Carl smiled cheekily as he thought about Pasg?rd, who now had to put the Zimmermann case to one side until they had a breakthrough in the hit-and-run case.
The smile was quickly wiped from his face when he saw who was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs: Olaf Borg-Pedersen from Station 3 with two of his colleagues. One of them shoved a camera in Carl’s face while the other was holding a light cannon that made his eyes water.
“Turn that shit off,” he managed to say before he realized that Borg-Pedersen was holding a microphone two centimeters from his mouth.
“We’ve heard that there’s been a couple of breakthroughs in the hit-and-run case today,” he said. “What do you make of the getaway car that was found on Griffenfeldsgade and the murder of Michelle Hansen in Stenl?se?”
“That it’s not my case,” he grumbled. How the hell had they obtained that information? Was it Bj?rn?
“The police are working with the theory that the same hit-and-run driver killed both Senta Berger and Michelle Hansen deliberately. Is it also your theory that we’re dealing with a serial killer, or are you more prone to thinking that it is an internal gang war? Can these murders be linked to last night’s robbery and shooting?”
“Ask homicide,” he said. Was the man an idiot?
Borg-Pedersen turned toward the camera. “A lot of information in this case is being kept under wraps. Several departments refuse to comment. But the public is left wondering whether they can feel safe when it’s no longer possible to walk the streets without fearing for their lives. There are thousands of vehicles on the road every day. Will the next car be a weapon, and will you be the victim? These are the questions we are trying to answer. And now back to the studio.”
What the hell was he doing scaring people like that? Was he working for the news now?
Borg-Pedersen turned toward Carl. “We’re going to be shadowing you for the next three days, so tell me what your plans are,” he managed to say before Carl turned on his heel and stormed into his office with Assad and Gordon in his wake.
“We’re not taking them with us to Flensburg, are we, Carl?” asked Assad.
“Over my dead body! Everything concerning Rose is to be kept between us.”
“But what will you say to the TV crew? They’re outside waiting in the corridor,” asked Gordon.
“Come with me,” he said, dragging him out to the TV crew with a smile on his face.
“You’ll be pleased to know that our very best assistant down here, Gordon Taylor, will take you with him on an important round of the Borgergade neighborhood.”
Gordon spun toward Carl. “Buut, I—”
“Gordon Taylor’s last round took a couple of hours, but you should probably set aside the whole day tomorrow.”
Gordon’s shoulders dropped.
“You’ll have to make sure that everyone Gordon speaks with gives their consent to being filmed. But you know all the rules in that area, right?”
Borg-Pedersen frowned. “And where will the rest of you be, if I might ask?”
Carl beamed. “Ask away; that’s why we’re here. We’ll be sitting on our backsides most of the day reviewing boring paperwork. Not very TV-friendly.”
Borg-Pedersen didn’t look happy. “Listen, Carl M?rck. We earn a living from making TV that’s entertaining. Your boss in homicide directed us to you lot because you can provide us with the best material. So we need to work together on this, okay?”
“Agreed. I promise you that we’ll do whatever we can to keep you happy, Borg-Pedersen. We understand what you need.”
The man seemed to notice Gordon shaking his head, but the mood was reasonably good when they left.