“What makes you think that?”
“I’ve seen the surveillance videos from the robbery at the nightclub. They showed me them upstairs. You can’t really see the girls because their faces are covered with scarves, but I think I recognize them. And they also showed me that selfie they found.”
“I don’t understand. What selfie?”
“One that Michelle took of herself and two girls. I immediately recognized them as the same girls I saw at the hospital where Michelle was admitted. The police I talked to earlier said that they’ve identified the place where it was taken as the canal by Gammel Strand. It was taken on May 11th, which is a long time before she left me. And she hadn’t told me about that day, so apparently I wasn’t supposed to know anything about it.”
“You say you saw the two girls at the hospital?”
“Yes, after Michelle had been run over the first time. It was in the waiting room the day she was discharged.”
Carl frowned. “You seriously believe that Michelle knew the two girls who committed the robbery and possibly shot Birna Sigurdardottir?”
“Yeah.”
“So what if I suggest that Michelle was their accomplice and that she came to the nightclub to distract you? What would you say to that?”
He looked down for a moment. Reality hit him; it was written all over his face and visible from his clenched fists. With a sudden jolt and a yell of frustration, he pushed himself away from the desk and threw his coffee cup violently against the wall on the opposite side where the bedsheet was hanging.
In other circumstances, Carl would probably have reacted strongly to such an outburst. But when the coffee-stained bedsheet fell down, revealing the entire Department Q investigation, the guy stood up and apologized.
“I’ll pay for a new cup and whatever else,” he said, embarrassed, pointing at the bedsheet on the floor. “All this has really gotten to me. And sorry for the stain on those pictures . . .”
He froze, frowning, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“I don’t think . . . ,” said Gordon as the guy walked around the desk toward the notice board.
“There she is again,” he said, pointing at the enlarged school photo from Bolman’s Independent School. “It’s the same bloody girl that was in Michelle’s selfie and who I saw at the hospital. And I’d swear on it that she’s one of the two girls I saw on the nightclub surveillance videos, even though she’s much older now.”
They all stared at him as if he’d stepped out of a UFO.
—
After their talk, Carl asked Patrick to wait in Gordon’s office while he tried to analyze the new information. He might have some further questions for him before he could leave.
Assad, Gordon, and Carl looked at one another for a while before Assad finally broke the silence.
“I don’t get it, Carl. It’s as if all the cases are connected now. Michelle from the hit-and-run case knows Denise and the other girl from the nightclub case, and Denise knows Stephanie Gundersen and obviously her grandmother, Rigmor Zimmermann, who Rose unbelievably also knows and lives next door to!”
Carl heard what he said, yet didn’t answer. They were all in shock. He had never experienced anything like this in his time as a policeman. It was so incredibly strange.
“We’re going to have to get Bj?rn down here, Carl. You’ll just have to face the music,” said Gordon.
Carl could picture the scenario. Disciplinary proceedings, revenge, and fury combined with all his colleagues feeling bitter and let down by him. But if they hadn’t looked into these cases and put them on the notice board, what then?
Carl nodded to the other two, picked up the telephone, and asked Lis to send Lars Bj?rn down to them immediately. And then they waited, trying to figure out how on earth these different cases could possibly be connected.
—
Bj?rn came bursting into the room with such force that they were left in no doubt as to his mood. When he glanced over at the notice board, his expression became even more severe and his presence in the room even more overwhelming.
Carl gave Gordon the nod to bring Patrick back, and when the wannabe gangster was standing in the doorway, Bj?rn’s face turned bright red. He looked like he was ready to explode.
“What the hell is my witness doing down here? And why the bloody hell do you have the hit-and-run case, the nightclub case, and the Zimmermann case down here in Department Q? So this is what that idiot Olaf Borg-Pedersen was rambling on about. I just didn’t think it could be true.”
He turned toward Carl, pointing his finger right in his face. “You’ve gone too far this time, Carl M?rck. Don’t you understand that?”
Carl took a risk, stopping him in his tirade with a brave hand across his mouth. Then he turned calmly toward Patrick. “Would you please tell Chief of Homicide Lars Bj?rn what you told us a moment ago?”
Bj?rn waved his arms. “No, he’s not getting involved in this, Carl. Get him out of here!”
But Patrick walked right over to the notice board and pointed at the girl in the school photo. “This is Denise,” he said.
Bj?rn squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the photo.
“It’s true, Lars. That girl is Denise Frank Zimmermann, and standing behind her is Stephanie Gundersen, who was murdered in 2004. All the cases on the notice board are connected somehow.”
It took them ten minutes to collectively explain all the connections to their boss. And when they were finally finished, he stood paralyzed like a pillar of salt outside Sodom. He might be a stickler, but there was nothing wrong with his inner detective. In that moment he felt exactly like them. He couldn’t understand it and yet he saw the facts before him.
“Sit down and have a cup of coffee so we can talk about how to move forward, Lars,” said Carl. He nodded to Assad, who left to make the coffee.
“The cases are completely intertwined,” Bj?rn said. He let his eyes wander from case to case. “What about Rose? Why is she up there?”
“Rose is off sick at the moment, and it now transpires that Rigmor Zimmermann was her neighbor. We’ll drive out to her apartment after we’ve talked and ask her about their relationship.”
“Is Rose involved in this, Carl?”
Carl frowned. “No, there’s nothing to indicate that. It’s just a coincidence that they lived next door to each other. So why not get an opinion about the victim from a skilled investigator when the opportunity presents itself?”
“Have you already called her about this?”
“Er, no. Her cell phone just gives an automated answer, so it might be that her battery is dead.”
Bj?rn shook his head. This was all too much for him.
“Does Marcus know anything about all this?”
“Not the latest, no.”
Then Patrick Pettersson tapped Carl on the shoulder. They had completely forgotten him.
“Can I go now? I’ve been here all day already. My boss will begin to ask questions tomorrow morning if I haven’t fixed the cars I’m meant to be working on.”