He frowned. “That’s probably something of Vigga’s as well. I’ll check it someday. You wouldn’t want a severed corpse up there without knowing, would you?” He laughed at Morten’s reaction. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with his imagination.
—
“What would you rather do today, Assad? Trudge around with Gordon in the area around the King’s Garden and check for places where Rigmor Zimmermann might have flashed her cash, or try to find a current or former employee at the steel plant who knows about the circumstances surrounding Rose’s dad’s accident?”
Assad looked at him as if he was stupid. “Don’t you think I know what you’re up to, Carl? Do I look like a camel cow that just lost its calf?”
“Uh, I’m not sure I . . .”
“When the camel cow is grieving, it doesn’t produce milk. Just lies down flat on the ground and nothing in the world can get it up again. Not until it gets a hard slap on the ass.”
“Uh . . .”
“Of course the last one, Carl.”
Now he didn’t follow at all.
“I’ll find that man from the steel plant, okay? And you can just drop that idea with Gordon. He already looked around there yesterday just after we’d seen Mona. Didn’t he tell you he was going to do that?”
Carl was speechless.
“Yes, that’s right,” confirmed Gordon a minute later in the situation room. “I visited every kiosk, bar, restaurant, and even the hot-dog van. Everywhere between Store Kongensgade and Kronprinsessegade, and between Gothersgade and Fredericiagade. I showed them all a photo of Rigmor Zimmermann, and a few of them recognized her without any hesitation but hadn’t seen her for some time. So I have no explanation as to why she might have waved her money in front of anyone in that area.”
Carl was taken aback. The guy must have rushed from place to place in order to visit them all within that time. Finally there was an advantage to his abnormally long legs.
“I’m trying to track down Rose’s friend from school,” he continued. “I called Rose’s old school and the secretary was able to confirm that a new girl joined Rose’s class in 1994. Her name was Karoline, like Yrsa told us in Mona’s office. The school doesn’t have the records anymore, but one of the old teachers remembers both Rose and Karoline. He even remembers that Karoline’s surname was Stavnsager.”
Carl gave him a thumbs-up.
“Yeah, I haven’t found anyone under that name yet, but I’ll get there, Carl. We owe that to Rose, don’t we?”
—
An hour later Assad was standing in Carl’s doorway.
“I’ve found a former employee from the steel plant. His name’s Leo Andresen and he’s a member of a historical society for retired employees up there. He said he’d try to find someone who was there in section W15 when Rose’s dad was killed.”
Carl looked up from his paperwork.
“A lot has happened up there since then, Carl. The plant was taken over by Russians in 2002. The company was split up into separate companies, and there are only three hundred employees left from the thousands who used to work there. He said that there have been billions invested in the place, so it looks very different today.”
“That’s hardly surprising given that the accident happened seventeen years ago, Assad. But what about the section you mentioned? Is that still intact so we can inspect the scene of the accident?”
He shrugged. Apparently he had not asked. He really wasn’t in top form.
“Leo Andresen said he’d check it out. He remembers the accident well, even though he didn’t work with the people involved. He worked with high voltage, I think he said, which was based elsewhere. That plant is huge.”
“Then we’ll have to keep our fingers crossed that he finds someone who knows a bit more.”
Carl pushed the documents he had been looking at in front of Assad.
“These are two account statements, and don’t ask me how I got ahold of them.”
He drew circles around various figures around the turn of each month on both statements. “Look here, and there, and there.”
Carl tapped on a few of the circles. “These are Rigmor Zimmermann’s withdrawals since January 1st. As you can see, there are large cash withdrawals at the end of every month. And then look here.”
He pointed at a couple of figures on the other statement.
“This is the daughter’s account. Funnily enough, in the same period a slightly smaller amount is deposited in her account just after the start of the month. So Birgit Zimmermann probably had her hands on her mother’s money before depositing it in her account, from where she had set up direct debit payments to take care of her and Denise’s rent, utilities, and so on. At least that’s what the figures seem to suggest.”
Assad’s eyes lit up. “Score,” he said quietly.
Carl nodded. “Exactly. And what does this tell us? I wonder if Rigmor Zimmermann was supporting her daughter and granddaughter long-term.”
“And she obviously didn’t this month because she was killed on April 26th.” Assad had the same calm look in his eyes as when he stood up from his prayer rug. He counted on his fingers as he tallied up the facts.
“One. According to Birgit Zimmermann, her mother was carrying the money when she visited her on April 26th.
“Two. The money hasn’t been deposited in Birgit’s account, and therefore a lot of bills haven’t been paid for May.
“Three. It seems reasonable to conclude that the daughter didn’t receive the money the day Rigmor Zimmermann was killed.
“Four. Something happened that day that made Rigmor Zimmermann decide not to give her daughter the money like she normally did.
“Five. We don’t know why!”
“I completely agree, Assad. And six: Does this help us in any way given that we don’t know anything about the relationship between Rigmor and Birgit Zimmermann?
“Of course, we’ll have to confront Birgit with the facts, but I also think you need to investigate further into her mother’s background. Who was Rigmor Zimmermann? Was she supporting her daughter because she expected something in return? And did she hold back the money on April 26th because she didn’t get what she wanted? Was it a form of blackmail? Or was it a question of simply changing procedure?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would you give someone cash in that way? I’m thinking it might be because the receiver wouldn’t necessarily have to pay tax on the amount. But what if Rigmor Zimmermann got cold feet? That she suddenly realized that the connection we have just made was one the tax authorities could just as easily make. And what if she didn’t dare take that risk anymore? Maybe she thought she shouldn’t be the one to pay for the daughter and granddaughter’s social fraud.”
“Could that have happened?”
“Maybe if the amount was big enough. But no, I don’t think that was likely. But she might have thought it was. It’s also a possibility that Rigmor Zimmermann intended to pay the money into her daughter’s account directly from then on. Perhaps she knew about her daughter’s alcohol problem and didn’t want to risk the money being used in the wrong way.”
“But couldn’t Birgit Zimmermann just have withdrawn the money and spent it on booze afterward?” asked Assad.
Of course he was right. There were a lot of aspects to this otherwise simple calculation.
“In any case, the mother had enough money to support her daughter and granddaughter, I can see.” Assad pointed at the main balance. There was more than six million.
Carl nodded. That alone was motive enough to wish her dead.
“Do we suspect Birgit Zimmermann, Carl?”
“I don’t know, Assad. Check the background of these three Zimmermann women. Find out as much as you can, Assad, and give me the number of that guy from the steel plant. I’ll go and visit him.”
“His name is Leo M. Andresen and he used to be the union rep and head of one of the sections at the plant, Carl. So be nice.”
That was some insinuation. Wasn’t he always nice to people?
—
Although he was retired, the former union representative Leo M. Andresen had a youthful voice and an even younger-sounding vocabulary, which made it difficult to determine his age over the phone.
“Let’s just meet up here when I’ve found someone who’s a bit more down with the current setup, Carl Mørck. There are enough of us old steel boys to create an army. Anyway, if I find someone, we’ll take a quick round of the plant and check out where the guy kicked the bucket.”
“Er, thank you! So the site of the accident still exists? I was under the impression that there had been a lot of changes at the plant?”
He laughed. “Yeah, W15 has been expanded in every imaginable way—you’re not wrong there. The slabs come straight from Russia now that we no longer mound them ourselves, so there isn’t the same need for space as there used to be. But the part of the section where Arne Knudsen met his end looks more or less the same.”
“So you get the finished product from Russia?”
“Not quite. We import the steel slabs from Russia and roll them into plates.”
“I see, so that’s the only thing they do at the plant now?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say ‘only’; there’s more to it than that. They receive the steel from Russia in big slabs and heat them up to around twelve hundred degrees Celsius, then roll them into plates of different sizes and only to order.”
Carl had more questions, but then someone in the background shouted, “Leo, coffee’s ready!” and the man said good-bye.
A perfect example of how a pensioner’s day could drastically change from one second to the next.
27
Thursday, May 26th, 2016
Michelle sat on the edge of the sofa with her head in her hands. It was all just so horrible that she had been crying most of the night. As soon as they had come home, she had done everything she could to make them understand how serious the situation was. That they had committed armed robbery and then shot a girl.
That it had already been reported on the radio.
But they just laughed at her, celebrated with warm champagne, and said that she should go back to Patrick with the couple of thousand he believed she owed him. And if she listened to him and played dumb when he told her what had happened at the club, no one was going to suspect her.
And as for Birna, she shouldn’t worry about her at all. She only got what she deserved. But Michelle couldn’t calm down, and it wasn’t only because of that. Only six days ago, she had almost been killed in a hit-and-run, and it was almost a miracle that she was still able to be up and about in spite of her pain and injuries. But had the other two taken this into account? No, they hadn’t. Now they had been living in the apartment together for three days and what had happened? Michelle had not done anything other than clean up after them. Was that okay when she was the one who had been in the hospital and still had occasional headaches? She didn’t think so.
There were clothes scattered all over the apartment. The lids had not been put back on the makeup. There was toothpaste on the mirror, hair in the sink, and smeared-out phone numbers for their sugar daddies on the bathroom tiles. They didn’t flush the toilet. They didn’t cook, leaving that job to Michelle, who also had to do the dishes afterward. All in all, they were nothing like the two girls she had thought they were. The cool girls she had met at the job center were just a couple of slobs on the home front, she thought.
Denise had even brought one of her sugar daddies home late one night, even though they had agreed that they would not do that, leaving Michelle unable to sleep because of the noise. That kind of thing gave her even more of a headache. In fact, she couldn’t deal with it at all.
And then yesterday! Despite their reassurances, it had ended very, very badly. And to make matters worse, it seemed like they didn’t give a damn. The pistol had just been thrown back in the haybox on the balcony. Hadn’t they considered that if Birna died, the pistol would be a murder weapon? If Jazmine could find it in the box, so could the police. Michelle couldn’t bear it.
She looked up at the TV screen and began shaking as she thought about the consequences. Those two good-for-nothings were sleeping in their rooms even though it was well past ten, while TV2 News talked about nothing other than the robbery and the woman who had been shot. There was no news about whether Birna was dead or alive. Didn’t they normally give that information?
There was money scattered everywhere because Jazmine and Denise had thrown it in the air, letting it rain down on them in their drunken state. The money was definitely a plus, but how was she going to explain to Patrick that she could suddenly pay him what she owed him? It was the end of the month, when she usually did not have any money left. And didn’t he know her well enough to sense when something was wrong? Yes, he did.
And when she thought about him, and how long they had been together, she couldn’t help crying again. Why had she even left him? And why hadn’t she just taken that job at the laundry when that was what he wanted?
The TV screen now showed a reporter in a grey parka in front of Victoria with a microphone in his hand. His lips were moving, and the camera was alternating between him and the club.
Michelle turned up the volume.
“The two women who were wearing scarves over their faces got away with more than one hundred and sixty-five thousand kroner. They have been recorded by various security cameras, and even though they seem to have known where they were and disguised their faces, an approximate description of their age and height has been established. Based on the women’s movements and dress, police experts believe them both to be ethnic Danes in their twenties with athletic builds, one being around one hundred and seventy centimeters tall and the second slightly taller. According to the club manager and security guard, they both have blue eyes.”
Michelle watched with bated breath as the news channel showed videos of Jazmine and Denise seen from all angles. Thankfully their faces weren’t visible, as the reporter had said, and the clothes they were wearing could have belonged to anyone, which comforted her a little.
“The police are now working on a more detailed description based on the eyewitness account of one of the bouncers, who was the only person to see them without their faces covered.” The reporter turned toward the other camera. “The suspects are believed to have escaped up toward Sydhavnsgade. Police are now attempting to trace their movements by making inquiries with taxi companies and going through various security camera recordings from S-train stations and elsewhere in the vicinity.”
He turned back toward the first camera. “The police have yet to make any connection between the robbery and the shooting in the alleyway behind the nightclub. But according to the manager of the club, who was held hostage by the women, the pistol used was a Parabellum, also known as a Luger—an iconic nine-millimeter handgun from the Second World War—which fits the caliber of the weapon used in the alleyway shooting.”
They showed a photo of the type of pistol, which Michelle recognized as the same as the one in the box on the balcony.
“The young female victim was known to the police. They have identified her as the twenty-two-year-old Birna Sigurdardottir, who has been arrested several times for violence and disturbing the peace. The police are therefore not ruling out that she may have been involved in the robbery and perhaps even the person behind the whole plan. The police are currently questioning two women who are believed to be members of a gang led by Birna Sigurdardottir, and who together with her have committed several violent attacks on other women in the Southwest district of Copenhagen where the robbery took place.”
Michelle shook her head. There were so many people looking for them. What would her mother and
stepfather say if they knew that she had been involved? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. And how would everyone she knew react if they found out that she had been involved in all this?
“According to doctors at Copenhagen University Hospital, Birna Sigurdardottir remains in critical condition. Police have therefore been unable to question her and, if her condition does not improve, may find themselves unable to do so at a later date.” Michelle stared at the screen. If she died, it would be murder. And if she didn’t, Birna knew who they were. She would at least be able to identify Jazmine, and then the game would be up. If the police found Jazmine and came down hard on her, Michelle was convinced that she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.
Whatever happened, things just couldn’t get any worse.
Michelle looked at her watch. The reporter would soon be wrapping up his report because it was just before eleven and time for the commercials. “Based on the perpetrators’ apparent knowledge of Victoria nightclub, the police assume that the robbery was an inside job. In that connection, several employees at the club have been taken in for questioning. We will return when there’s further news in the case.”
Michelle sat back on the sofa. God, what if they had taken Patrick in for questioning?
She pursed her lips. She just had to get out of here. Home to Patrick.
While she was gathering her things together, she wondered how much money she could take with her, because nothing had been decided on that front. Maybe the other two would become impossible if she took any at all.
In the end, she decided to take the twenty-thousand-kroner bundle lying on the coffee table. It was insignificant compared to the total of one hundred and sixty-five thousand. But if she kept the money well hidden and gave Patrick only a little, it couldn’t do any harm.
She knocked on Denise’s door and went in even though there was no sign of life.
Denise was lying on the bed half-unconscious, fully dressed, with her mouth wide-open and her makeup smeared all over the pillow. She looked like a cheap hooker. There was a second pillow tucked between her legs and money scattered around her and on the floor. The sight genuinely shocked Michelle.
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