“Denise,” she said, surprised. That was all she could muster.
Anneli staggered backward into the hallway when the girl pushed her with the barrel of the pistol. She came across immensely resolute and determined, far from the lazy and obstinate Denise Anneli had despised for years.
“We know it was you who killed Michelle,” said Denise. “And if you don’t want to end up behind bars for the rest of your life, you need to listen very carefully. Understood, Anne-Line Svendsen?”
She nodded in silence. “Behind bars,” she’d said. So Denise hadn’t come to kill her with that very efficient-looking pistol. This meant she could start off by simply playing along.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about, Denise. And why do you look like that? I didn’t recognize you at all. Is there something I ought to know? Can I help you with something?”
She knew immediately that she had overdone her act as she felt the pistol handle hit her jaw. She suppressed a cry of pain and tried to look like she didn’t understand what was happening, but it was clear that Denise wasn’t buying it.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” said Anneli meekly.
“You’re going to hand over your money, okay? We know you’ve won a lot of money in the lottery. Where do you keep it? If it’s in the bank, you’ll transfer it to my account online. Are you listening?”
Anneli swallowed hard. Was that old lie really going to cause her trouble all these years later? It would have been laughable if the situation wasn’t so serious.
“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed, Denise. That story with the lottery is only a rumor. I’ll happily show you my bank statement, but you’ll probably be disappointed. But what’s happened to make you do this, Denise? It’s not like you. Why don’t you put that weapon down, and I promise I won’t take this any further. You can tell me—”
The second blow hurt really badly. A guy had once punched her in the face with his fist, which was the end of that relationship, but this was much worse.
She held a hand up to her cheek while Denise demanded to know where she was hiding the money if it wasn’t in her bank account.
Anneli sighed and nodded.
“It’s in the room next door,” she said, pushing open the door into the mechanical engineer’s sitting room. “I have a couple of thousand in here for emergencies. We can start with that,” she said as she grabbed the gun with the untested silencer from the shelf.
As she spun around, directed the gun at Denise’s forehead, and pulled the trigger in the same movement, she realized with relief that the silencer as well as the gun worked brilliantly.
A muted pop. That was it.
Denise was stone dead.
42
Monday, May 30th, 2016
“Isn’t Rose’s apartment in Sandalsparken the one closest to the stairwell?”
Carl looked at Assad and nodded, but why in the world was he talking about that?
“Carl, you do know that I’m the one who buys the sugar down here in the basement, don’t you?”
Carl was confused. What the heck was he on about? “Yes, Assad, and I know it’s been a long day, but aren’t you being a bit random just now?”
“And the one who buys coffee and other stuff, I might add. And why do you suppose I do that?”
“I’m thinking it’s probably because it’s part of your job. But why are you saying all this? Are you trying to get a raise out of me? Because if that’s the case, I’ll just go to the supermarket and buy the coffee myself next time.”
“You don’t get it, Carl. But in the unbearably sharp light of hindsight, things sometimes pop up that suddenly make sense.”
Had he really said “the unbearably sharp light of hindsight”? He used to always say “the unbearable cleverness of backlight.” He was really sounding more and more fluent with every day.
“Well, you’re right. I don’t get it at all.”
“Okay, but it’s really quite logical. I buy the coffee and stuff because Rose doesn’t—even though that was the agreement. She just forgets, Carl. That’s why.”
“Get to the point, Assad. We have enough to do. I need to find some way to talk with Rose so I can ask her about Rigmor Zimmermann. Maybe she knows something about her neighbor’s movements and habits that could help us.”
Assad looked at him drowsily. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t you get it? Rose always forgets to buy things for Department Q, and I’ve teased her about it and asked if she also forgets to buy groceries for herself at home. So she told me about her nice neighbor who always lets her borrow sugar, milk, oatmeal, and stuff like that when she runs out.”
Carl frowned. Okay, so that was where this was going.
“And since we now know that Zimmermann was her neighbor, and Rose only had one neighbor because she lives next to the stairwell, it must be Rigmor Zimmermann she borrowed things from. She was the nice neighbor Rose talked about—the same woman whose murder we’re investigating.” He nodded as he concluded. “So we know now that Rose knew her well, Carl. Really well.”
Carl rubbed his forehead with both hands. This was so strange. Then he grabbed the telephone and dialed the number for the ward where Rose was committed.
“You want to speak to Rose Knudsen?” asked the ward nurse. “I’m afraid she’s no longer with us. She left voluntarily back on . . . let me see . . .”
Carl heard her typing in the background.
“Yes, here it is. Her file says it was on May 26th.”
Carl couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. May 26th? That was four days ago. Why hadn’t she called them?
“Was she deemed fit to leave, since she just up and left?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that. On the contrary, she was very introverted and rather aggressive. However, Rose Knudsen was here voluntarily, and so it was her decision, and hers alone, to leave, but it certainly wasn’t something we would have recommended based on her mental state. I’d be surprised if we didn’t hear from her again soon. That’s usually the case.”
Carl hung up quietly. “She left the ward on Thursday, Assad. Four days ago, and not a word to us. It’s not good.”
Assad looked at him in shock. “That’s the day she was shouting in the background when I was speaking with the receptionist on the ward. So where is she now? Did you ask?”
Carl shook his head. “I don’t think they know.” He picked up the phone again and dialed Rose’s number.
After a few beeps came the automatic response: “The number you’re calling is currently unavailable.”
He looked at Assad. “No answer,” he grumbled, turning toward the door to the corridor.
“Gordoooon!” he shouted.
—
Gordon seemed totally stunned when they told him what Rose had done. And when they called her sisters, their reaction was the same. This was news to all of them.