The Chestnut Man

by Søren Sveistrup

  Two hours they’d spent searching the mansion-like property and its grounds. First of all they’d discovered that the CCTV cameras facing the woods on the north side of the house had been deactivated. From the moment Anne Sejer-Lassen returned from her run and switched off the alarm, anybody could have climbed over the fence and forced their way into the house unseen. The neighbours had seen nothing, which was entirely believable, since the lavish homes along the street were spaced so far apart that estate agents could legitimately describe them, without the customary exaggeration, as ‘secluded’.

  While Genz and the Forensics techs had focused on combing the garden, front room and hall for potential evidence, Thulin and Hess had gone upstairs to check the bedrooms, drawers and wardrobes, hoping to glean some information about Anne Sejer-Lassen’s life. There were nine rooms on the first floor, if you counted the spa and walk-in closet. Hess was no specialist in material luxury, but the Bang & Olufsen screen in the bedroom alone looked like it might be equivalent to a deposit on a few apartments at Odin. Tastefully, there were no curtains or blinds obscuring the tall, magnificent windows, but standing in the room he couldn’t help wondering whether the killer had used them to spy on Anne Sejer-Lassen and her evening routine from the dim garden, where the rain was once more bucketing down.

  In the other rooms on the first floor, too, the interiors and materials were carefully considered: Anne Sejer-Lassen’s walk-in closet was neatly organized with rows of high-heeled shoes, dresses and freshly ironed trousers on identical wooden hangers, while her socks and lingerie were arrayed in equally immaculate drawers. The en suite bathroom was like something out of a five-star hotel, with two sinks, a large sunken bathtub featuring Italian tiles and a separate spa room and sauna. In the children’s room, meanwhile, there were big, colourful wall paintings of Hans Scherfig’s jungle animals encircling the two small beds, which looked up to a starry sky on the ceiling, complete with painted planets and stray space rockets.

  Yet no matter where they searched, there was nothing to explain why anybody would have surprised Anne Sejer-Lassen in her home, chased her into a forest and sawn off both her hands.

  Instead, they’d focused on questioning Erik Sejer-Lassen, who had told them how he and Anne met at Ordrup High School. As soon as the two of them had finished their studies at Copenhagen Business School, they’d celebrated by getting married, then set off on a round-the-world trip before settling down first in New Zealand and later in Singapore. Erik had made some lucky investments in various biotech companies, while Anne’s greatest wish had been to have children and a family. They’d had two girls, and once the eldest reached school age they’d returned home to Denmark, initially to a rental property in one of the new-builds on Islands Brygge, where they’d lived until they could purchase the house in Klampenborg, close to the neighbourhood where Erik had grown up. Hess got the impression the family’s standard of living relied on Erik’s income, and although Anne had trained as an interior designer several years earlier, she seemed mainly to have taken pride in being a mother, looking after the house, and arranging get-togethers for their circle of friends, most of whom were really Erik’s. A detective had also been dispatched to Helsingør, where Anne Sejer-Lassen’s mother lived, and from her summary of the conversation Hess had learned that she’d grown up poor, lost her father early, and from childhood onwards was focused on building a family. Her mother, in a voice choked with tears, had explained that she hadn’t seen as much of her daughter and grandchildren after they got home from Asia as she’d hoped, which she put down to Erik disliking her. Not that he or Anne had ever said so, but she’d usually only seen her daughter and grandchildren when Erik was at work, or on the rare occasions when her daughter drove up with the kids to say hello. The mother’s impression was that the balance of power between Anne and Erik was much too uneven, but Anne had always defended her husband and refused to leave him; it had been clear to her mother that she needed to keep that sort of opinion to herself if she wanted to keep seeing her. Which, after the events of yesterday, she never would again.

  The digital clock on one of the kitchen’s two big Smeg ovens shifts another minute forwards, and Hess forces himself to listen to Thulin’s questions rather than the crying upstairs.

  ‘But your wife packed a bag. She was on her way out the door, and she told the au-pair she’d pick up the children herself, so where was she going?’

  ‘I told you. She was going to visit her mother. They were going to stay the night.’

  ‘That’s not what it looks like. She’d packed a bag with their passports and enough clothes for more than a week, so what was she going to do? Why did she want to leave?’

  ‘She didn’t want to leave.’

  ‘I think she did, and people don’t run off like that without good reason. So either tell me what that reason was, or I’ll get a warrant to go through your phone and internet traffic to see if I can find one.’

  Erik Sejer-Lassen looks like he’s reaching the end of his rope.

  ‘My wife and I had a great relationship. But we – or I – have also had some problems.’

  ‘What kind of problems?’

  ‘I’ve had affairs. Nothing that meant anything. But … maybe she found out about that.’

  ‘Affairs, you say. With whom?’

  ‘Different people.’

  ‘Who, how? Women, men?’

  ‘Women. Casual stuff. Just people I met or messaged online somewhere. It didn’t mean anything.’

  ‘So why did you do it?’

  Sejer-Lassen hesitates.

  ‘I don’t know. Sometimes life just doesn’t work out the way you’d hoped.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Sejer-Lassen is staring vacantly into space. Hess couldn’t have agreed more with his last sentence, yet he still can’t help wondering what a guy like Sejer-Lassen had hoped for out of life if it wasn’t a trophy wife, a family and a house worth over 35 million kroner.

  ‘When and how could your wife have found out about this?’ continues Thulin snappishly.

  ‘I don’t know, but you asked whether –’

  ‘Mr Sejer-Lassen, we’ve examined your wife’s phone, emails and social media accounts. If she found out about what you’ve told us, it makes sense she would have spoken to someone about your infidelity – either you, her mother or a friend – but she made no mention of it.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Ergo, that probably wasn’t why she was running off. So I’m going to ask you again: why did your wife want to leave you? Why had she packed a bag and –’

  ‘I don’t know! You asked me for a reason, and that’s the only reason I can come up with, for fuck’s sake!’

  Erik Sejer-Lassen’s outburst of rage seems to Hess for a moment like an overreaction. On the other hand, the man is probably barely keeping it together. It’s been a long day, and Hess sees no reason to continue the interview, so he interrupts. ‘Thanks, we’ll leave it there. If you think of anything else, you let us know immediately, okay?’

  Sejer-Lassen nods gratefully, and although Hess has turned his back to find his jacket, he can tell Thulin isn’t pleased about the interruption. Luckily, a voice forestalls any further comment.

  ‘Can I take the girls out for ice cream?’

  The au-pair has come downstairs with the two girls, who are now wearing outdoor clothes. Hess and Thulin have already interviewed her. She’d not seen Anne since yesterday morning, having had lunch at the Filipino Free Church and then getting a call from Anne that afternoon saying that she would pick up the girls herself. It’s clear she has great respect for the Sejer-Lassen family and especially the police, and Hess guesses her residency permit isn’t quite in order. The youngest of the girls is in her arms, the older holding her hand. They are red-eyed and tear-stained, and Erik Sejer-Lassen, who has risen to his feet, is walking towards them.

  ‘Yes. Good idea, Judith. Thank you.’

  Sejer-Lassen strokes one of his daughters’ hair a
nd gives the other one a forced smile, while all four walk towards the kitchen passage.

  ‘When I’m finished with an interview, I’ll say so myself.’

  Thulin has walked up to Hess, positioning herself so he can’t avoid looking into her brown eyes.

  ‘Look, we were with the man yesterday afternoon when Anne Sejer-Lassen was being attacked, so there’s no way he did it.’

  ‘We’re looking for a common factor between these two killings. One victim changed the locks, the other one was trying to do a runner –’

  ‘I’m not looking for a common factor. I’m looking for a murderer.’

  Hess tries to head into the front room to hear the Forensics techs’ report, but Thulin blocks his path.

  ‘Let’s deal with this right now. Do you have a problem with this? Us two working together, coordinating?’

  ‘No, I don’t have a problem. But let’s split things up so we’re not getting into a tug-of-war like two idiots.’

  ‘Am I interrupting?’

  The cream-coloured sliding door into the hall glides open, and Genz appears in his white space-suit, a flight case in his hand.

  ‘We’re packing up now. I don’t want to disappoint anybody in advance, but on the face of it there doesn’t seem to be any more to go on than with Laura Kjær. The most interesting thing is the traces of blood in the cracks in the hall floor. But they’re old, and they don’t match Anne Sejer-Lassen’s blood type, so I’m assuming they’re not relevant.’

  On the floor in the hallway behind Genz they can see traces of luminol glowing green under the phosphorescent lights, while a tech snaps photographs with a camera.

  ‘Why are there traces of old blood on the hall floor?’

  Thulin shoots the question at Sejer-Lassen, who has returned from the kitchen passage and begun somewhat apathetically to clear away the toys.

  ‘If it’s by the stairs, it might be from Sofia, our eldest. She fell and broke her nose and collarbone a couple of months back, spent some time in hospital.’

  ‘Could be that. By the way, Hess, our office party committee told me to say hello and thanks for the pig.’

  Genz goes back to the other white-clad spacemen and shuts the sliding door behind him. A thought strikes Hess, and he gazes at Erik Sejer-Lassen with renewed interest, but Thulin beats him to the punch.

  ‘Which hospital was Sofia staying at?’

  ‘The Rigshospital. Just a couple of days.’

  ‘Which department at the Rigshospital?’

  This time Hess is the one asking. The fact that both detectives are suddenly showing interest in the subject evidently bewilders Sejer-Lassen, who pauses in the middle of the room with a tricycle in his hand.

  ‘Paediatrics. I think. But it was mainly Anne who took care of things and went to the clinic. Why?’

  Neither of them answers. Thulin strides across to the front door, and Hess knows she won’t let him drive this time either.

  49

  No one visiting the paediatric ward at the Rigshospital on Blegdamsvej can help pausing to admire the wall of innumerable colourful children’s drawings, large and small, which decorate the corridor. Hess is no exception. So much pain and zest for life gathered in one place, and Hess can’t stop staring at the wall, while Thulin goes up to the desk to announce their arrival.

  Sejer-Lassen’s mention of his daughter’s stay at the Rigshospital prompted both of them to recall the reminder letter pinned to the noticeboard in Laura Kjær’s kitchen. On their way back into town Hess phoned the department and confirmed that both Laura Kjær’s boy and Anne Sejer-Lassen’s eldest girl had been patients there, but the nurse he spoke to hadn’t been able to provide any more usable information, let alone whether the children’s stays had overlapped. Now they’re at the hospital, mostly because it’s the only common factor they have to go on, and because the Rigshospital is on their route back to the station anyway. As yet the day has produced no useful result, and they’ve also learned from Nylander that Rosa Hartung and her husband were able to contribute nothing new about Anne Sejer-Lassen, which didn’t do much for the atmosphere.

  Hess watches Thulin return from the desk, but she avoids his eye and makes for the Thermos of coffee provided for visitors. ‘They’re trying to get hold of the senior consultant. According to the files, he dealt with both children.’

  ‘So we’ll speak to him now?’

  ‘I don’t know. If you want to do something else, that’s fine with me.’

  Hess doesn’t reply, glancing around impatiently instead. There are sick and ailing children everywhere. Children with scratched faces, with arms in slings and legs in plaster. Children without hair on their heads, children in wheelchairs, and children moving around attached to drip stands. In the middle is the activity room, with big panes of glass and a blue door covered in balloons and autumn twigs. The sound of children’s voices singing coaxes Hess nearer to the door, which stands ajar. Inside, a few bigger children are drawing at one end, while a semicircle of smaller kids sit on brightly coloured plastic stools at the other. They are singing, their faces turned towards a woman holding up a picture with a cute drawing of a red apple.

  ‘Apple man, do come in. Apple man, do come in. Have you any apples that you’ve brought for me today? Thank you kindly, won’t you staaaaay …’

  The woman nods encouragingly at the children, and after they’ve trilled the final word long and loud, she puts down the poster of the apple and picks up one of a chestnut.

  ‘Let’s take it from the top!’

  ‘Chestnut man, do come in. Chestnut man, do come in. Have you any chestnuts …’

  The words are like a cold finger running down Hess’s spine. As he recoils from the door, he realizes Thulin is watching him.

  ‘Are you Oskar’s parents, here for the X-rays?’

  A nurse approaches them. Thulin, sipping coffee from a plastic cup, chokes and starts to cough.

  ‘No, that’s not us,’ replies Hess. ‘We’re police officers. We’re waiting for the senior consultant.’

  ‘The consultant is still doing his rounds, I’m afraid.’

  The nurse is pretty. Sparkling dark eyes and long brown hair gathered into a ponytail. She’s thirty-ish, but there is something serious about her face that makes her appear older.

  ‘He’ll have to cut them short. Please tell him we’re in a hurry.’

  50

  Senior consultant Hussein Majid asks them to take a seat in the staff room, among white coffee cups, greasy iPads, sweeteners, stained morning newspapers and coats slung over the backs of chairs. He’s the same height as Hess, in his early forties, well groomed, wearing his white coat unbuttoned, with a stethoscope around his neck and angular black glasses. A gold wedding ring indicates that he’s married, but that isn’t the impression he gives when he shakes Thulin’s hand. The hurriedness that accompanied the consultant’s handshake with Hess quickly transforms into a smile and sustained eye contact when he turns to Thulin. For a moment it catches Hess off guard that the doctor finds Thulin attractive, because he’s never looked at her that way himself. So far he’s mostly found her annoying, but grudgingly he has to admit that he can understand why the doctor’s discreet gaze follows her slender waist and shapely backside as she turns away to find a chair. For a second Hess wonders whether Majid also looked at Laura Kjær and Anne Sejer-Lassen that way when they appeared on the ward with their sick children.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m in the middle of my rounds, but if we can get this done quickly I’d be glad to help you, of course.’

  ‘That’s very kind. Thank you,’ replies Thulin.

  Majid places two medical files and his mobile phone on the table as he offers to pour her a coffee, which she accepts coquettishly. It seems to Hess as though she’s forgotten why they are there, but he swallows his irritation and leans forward in his chair.

  ‘As we said, we have a few questions about Magnus Kjær and Sofia Sejer-Lassen, and we’d like you to tell us exactly what yo
u know.’

  Throwing a glance at Hess, Hussein Majid replies with a natural authority and friendliness that is presumably mainly for Thulin’s benefit.

  ‘Of course. You’re correct that both children were treated here – though for different reasons. May I first ask the reason for your questions?’