“I don’t know you. Tell me who you are or I’ll arrest you for unlawful entry.”
Jazmine tried to catch Denise’s eye. Despite the state of the woman, she sounded like she meant it. But Denise didn’t seem fazed. Rather, she looked like she was ready to attack the woman.
“The fuck you will,” she hissed. “I’m Rigmor’s granddaughter. I’ve got every right to be here, but you don’t, do you? So give me the keys and beat it, or I’ll punch you in the face and call the police.”
The woman frowned, swaying on her feet, trying to find her balance. “Are you Dorrit?” she asked in a more neutral tone. “I’ve heard about you.”
Jazmine was confused. Dorrit?
“Hand them over,” said Denise, stretching out her hand toward the woman. But the woman just shook her head.
“I’m keeping hold of these until I find out what’s going on here,” she said, her eyes scanning the apartment. “What are you up to? Rigmor has been murdered, and there’s money lying around everywhere. What do you think a police investigator makes of this? I’ll get to the bottom of this, mark my words. And you two stay here in the meantime. Understood?”
She turned on her heel and staggered through the corridor out onto the walkway.
“Damn it,” moaned Jazmine. “Did you hear what she said? And about the money?” Jazmine looked around, putting her hand to her mouth in shock. The way the money was lying all over the place was as good as a confession.
Denise was standing with her hands on her hips, fists clenched. Her expression was withdrawn. She looked like a woman who understood the gravity of the situation.
“My grandmother once told me that her neighbor was a police investigator. So that drunkard must have been her,” she said, nodding to herself.
Jazmine was shaken. “What should we do, Denise? If she calls the police, they could be here any minute. We need to get out of here.” Jazmine looked around. They could gather all the money in ten minutes, and if she threw any old clothes on just now and packed the rest, they would be out the door within fifteen minutes.
Denise shook her head. “No, we need to pay her a visit,” she said.
“You mean go over to her place? Why? She saw the money. You won’t stop her from checking up on us. I can tell from the way she looked at us.”
“Yes, exactly! That’s why we need to stop her instead, right?”
—
Is this chaos really how I want to be remembered? thought Rose, looking around at her apartment.
She caught sight of the jacket covering the suicide note, plastic basket, donor statement, and razor blade, feeling sad about her wasted, lonely life. A few minutes ago she had caught a glimpse of hope when she heard voices from Rigmor Zimmermann’s apartment, and for a moment she had felt that she might be able to carry on living.
This is what delusion does to you, she thought. It creates miracles and drags you into a false sense of security and illusion that immediately changes everything. And then the disappointment of reality always returns with a vengeance.
Of course the two suspicious women were not supposed to be in Rigmor’s apartment, but when it came to it, what business was it of hers? Or that they were stealing from a dead woman? Or that they were living in her apartment?
Rose hung her head and sat despondently on the only chair she hadn’t knocked over. Everything had become so messy.
This must be what judgment day feels like, she thought, feeling the urge to throw up. Everything inside her was pleading to get it over with. To call the emergency services and say that she had slit her wrists and that they should come and save her organs. Never mind what was going on on the other side of the wall. If she got involved, she would just end up back where she started. The police would come and that was the last thing she wanted. She certainly didn’t want anyone from HQ to come and stop her. And the same went for her sisters and the doctors in Glostrup.
“Screw them, and screw those girls next door. Screw the world,” she said out loud, grabbing the jacket and revealing what was underneath. A quick call and two clean cuts and it would all be over.
She had already begun dialing the number for the emergency services when she heard a knock at the door.
Go away! she screamed inside. And when the knocking continued even louder than before, she pressed her hands over her ears. She sat like that for a minute, but when she removed her hands and heard that someone was still knocking, she got up, put the jacket back over the paraphernalia, and staggered over to the door.
“What?” she shouted through the mail slot.
“It’s Denise Zimmermann,” answered the voice outside. “Can we come in for a minute? We just want to explain—”
“Not now!” Rose shouted back. “Come back in half an hour.” Then it would all be over anyway.
While she stood staring at the front door, she realized that it might take the paramedics too long to gain entry if the door was locked. That it would be too late for them to use her organs. How could she know how those things worked?
She heard them saying “okay” and the sound of their footsteps as they moved away from the door. When it was silent outside, she unlocked the door to enable the paramedics to get in.
She had not even turned around before the door was kicked in behind her—and a hard bang to the back of her head made her pass out.
33
Thursday, May 26th, and Friday, May 27th, 2016
Who are you, Anneli? she thought when she caught sight of her demonic reflection in the mirror. She had just killed someone, and yet she was smiling like someone in love. She had violated the strictest law of God and man, taking someone’s life, and yet she had never felt better than in the wonderful moment when Michelle Hansen disappeared under the car with a force that crushed her body and made the car jump half a meter in the air. Of course she had expected some form of pleasure like last time, but nothing like this all-consuming euphoria that ran through her whole body like an elixir of life.
After she had stopped the car for a few seconds to make sure that Michelle’s twisted body would never get back up again, she had calmly put her foot down and sped off in the direction of ?lstykke, where she had decided to park the car. She had shivered with excitement all the way. Never before had she laughed so much with relief. The job was done.
But almost as soon as she was home on the sofa with her feet curled up underneath her and a glass of cool white wine in her hand, she had to acknowledge that certain events sometimes developed more quickly and unpredictably than expected.