Anneli stood paralyzed with pursed lips as she watched dent after dent appear on her car roof.
Damn brat! If only she knew what Anneli could do to a girl like her.
Meanwhile, the girls were swearing like a couple of drunken sailors, looking over their shoulders several times and giving the finger. It was only when they reached Fredensbro that Anneli dared to put her arms around Denise’s chest and drag her out to the car door.
When she tried to push the body into the car, the upper body had already completely stiffened up, so she had to lean the passenger seat all the way back and use all her might to force the body downward in order to be able to close the door on the stiffened arm.
It meant that the body was almost leaning over the gearshift when Anneli had shut the door and sat in the driver’s seat.
It was obvious that given the awkward position the body was lying in, any passerby would react if they saw it.
If anyone spotted her, she would just have to floor it.
She struggled a bit with the stiff arm while pushing the body into a more or less upright position.
She inspected the result. Apart from the almost entangled legs, Denise’s open eyes, and the unnatural angle of the neck and the head, it looked fairly normal.
Anneli jumped out of the car and opened the passenger door so she could get the seat belt around the body. But that also proved to be complicated.
When she finally succeeded, she realized that a young guy was watching her from the opposite sidewalk.
They stood for a moment silently watching each other.
What should I do? she thought. He’s seen me struggling with the body!
She nodded to herself, made a split-second decision, walked around the car, and took a couple of steps toward him with a broad smile.
“Is she okay?” he shouted.
She nodded back. “Yes, but I don’t think she can avoid having her stomach pumped,” called Anneli with a laugh, her pulse racing.
He returned her smile. “Good thing for her that the University Hospital is just around the corner!” he shouted and continued along the pavement.
Anneli held her hands up to her face, wiping the sweat from her cheeks. Then she got in the car and looked down along the row of houses. If she was going to get off the sidewalk and bicycle path and onto the road, she would have to drive a good hundred meters past people’s front doors.
If someone suddenly walks out of their door, they’ll walk straight in front of the car, she thought, knowing full well the damage that could cause.
She eased the car forward in first gear past the houses and realized for the first time ever that there was a no-parking sign between the bicycle path and the sidewalk exactly where the parking spaces stopped. If she could get her car through the tight space, she would be back on the road.
As she reached the parking meter twenty-five meters before the place where she could get back on the road, a police car driving past honked at her.
Anneli stopped in front of a house with a light-blue door and rolled her window down. She did all she could to remain calm in the ominous flashing blue light from the patrol car.
“I know—sorry!” she shouted. “But I’m dropping my mother-in-law off at the next house. She is really unsteady on her feet.”
The officer in the passenger seat was just about to get out of the car but was stopped by the other officer. They exchanged a few words, and then the first officer nodded at Anneli.
“You won’t get away with that again, madam. Just hurry up and get out of here before one of our colleagues sees you.”
Anneli watched the patrol car until it was out of sight and nudged the body to make sure the belt was in place. Then she released the clutch.
—
She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached Lyngbyvej. Now all she had to do was drive up Bernstorffsvej and all the way to Bernstorff’s Park, and she would have reached her destination. At this time of day, there definitely wouldn’t be anyone out walking their dog, and there was sure to be a free parking space outside the park. Of course, Denise wouldn’t be easy to drag, but if she drove around the monument on the roundabout at the end of Femvejen, the car would be facing in the right direction so the passenger door opened out to the park. Then she would just have to drag the body across the bicycle path and sidewalk and onto the path.
She intended to complete her plan in two steps. First, she would drag the body into the nearest bushes and take a break to catch her breath. If the coast was clear, she would then drag it on to the next group of bushes, and when she was far enough away from the road she would leave the body and the gun in the densest undergrowth she could find. It was very likely that a dog would sniff out the body the following morning, but never mind. As long as it wasn’t found by an amorous couple or a fanatical jogger before Anneli had made it back to the city, cleaned the car, thrown her footwear in a Dumpster, and wrapped herself in her quilt.
Only a few more streetlights and she would be there. She laughed at how well things were going.
“Now Aunty Anneli is going to take you for a little trip to the park, Denise. Aren’t you excited?” she said, giving the shoulder a good strong pat. But she shouldn’t have. Defying all laws of gravity, the body fell toward her with the result that the head ended up leaning against her chest with vacantly staring eyes.
Anneli tried to push the body back up with the strength she could muster with her one free hand, but the body seemed to be stuck.
When she made one final attempt, elbowing the body hard in the shoulder, she realized that it was the seat belt that was stopping her from pushing the body back.
Anneli turned a little to the side to enable her to release the seat belt and put the body back in place. When she finally succeeded, she was in the middle of the intersection at Kildegårdsvej, driving through a red light at seventy kilometers an hour.
It was too late when she heard the screeching brakes of the other car and saw the black shadow that rammed into the side of her hood with an unearthly metallic crash. Pieces of glass shattered everywhere, and she could smell the ultimate disaster as the entangled bodywork of the two cars swirled around like a dancing couple. Anneli experienced a momentary blackout as the airbag pushed against her body and the seat belt squeezed her ribs together, pressing the air out of her lungs. She could hear a sizzling sound from the car that had driven into hers, only then realizing the immense trouble she was suddenly in.
Anneli looked instinctively to the side and realized to her horror that the airbag in the passenger side had punctured and that Denise’s body was no longer sitting in the seat next to her.
In a panic, she struggled free, undid her seat belt, and forced the door open. The air was thick with the stench of gasoline, burned rubber, and oil.
She stepped directly out onto the sidewalk because both cars had been spun around and were now almost pressed up against the wall of a house.
Anneli looked around in confusion.
I’m on Bernstorffsvej, she remembered. Right now it was deserted, but there was life in the block of apartments above them, and windows were being opened.
She heard several worried voices from above, but Anneli instinctively edged her way along the wall, passing the mangled black Golf that had hit her. The driver, a very young man, was still caught behind the white airbag. His eyes were closed, but he was moving slightly, thank God.
There was nothing Anneli could do. She just had to get out of there.
When she turned the corner onto Hellerupvej with the canvas bag over her shoulder, she looked back and could just make out the outline of Denise’s body sprawled across the hood of the black car like a dog that had been run over.
51
Monday, May 30th, and Tuesday, May 31st, 2016
Carl was tired, but he also felt good about himself. The long day had really pa
id off. Three cases had been solved. So despite his worry and concern for Rose, he still had a rare feeling that his job was okay. Assad probably felt the same, but it came across slightly differently. Right now, he was snoring like a walrus in his broom cupboard of an office.
“What do you say, Gordon? Three cases in one day! That’s good teamwork.” He put down Assad’s notes in front of Gordon when the guy sat down on the other side of Carl’s desk, looking as white as a ghost.
“Yes, it’s fantastic, Carl.”
He didn’t look particularly elated with the result, but then again it was probably about time to go home and get some sleep so they could get back in the saddle tomorrow morning. As long as they hadn’t found Rose, they couldn’t rest on their laurels.
“Tell me what you’ve been working on this evening. Do you have any leads for us?”
He looked a bit embarrassed. “Yes, maybe. I got a guy from IT to hack into Rose’s private e-mail account.”
“Uh, okay.” Carl wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the details. The complaints board certainly wouldn’t look favorably on this if it came to light.
“Don’t worry, Carl. He won’t talk. I slipped him a thousand kroner.” That almost made it worse.
“No more details, Gordon, please! And what did you find in her e-mails?”
“I wish you hadn’t asked me to do it, Carl. I can’t bear it, just so you know.”
That didn’t sound good. “Now you’re making me nervous, Gordon. What have you discovered?”
“That I don’t know the Rose who . . .”
“Who what, Gordon?”
“Do you know how many e-mail addresses she has for different men? How many e-mails she’s exchanged with them? And how many of them she’s arranged to visit so they could have sex? She doesn’t beat around the bush, Carl.” He shook his head. “Just in the time I’ve known her, she’s . . .” He clearly almost couldn’t bring himself to say it. “She’s had sex with at least a hundred and fifty men, as far as I can calculate.”
Carl didn’t know what to think. Perhaps he was slightly impressed with the level of activity, but he was puzzled as to how she had found the time. He looked at Gordon, who was biting his cheek to avoid being overcome with emotion.
“I’m sorry to have to ask you, but is it your impression that she could’ve developed a close bond with any of these people?”
He cringed. “A few, yes. If you mean ‘did she fuck them more than once?’”
“I’m not sure what I mean. Someone she went back to for some reason or other.”
“Yes, there are a few. Four to be precise. And I’ve called them all.”
“Go on, Gordon.”
“They were shocked when I called, I can tell you. I think I interrupted a cozy family evening in front of the TV for a couple of them. They rushed out into the kitchen or somewhere when I questioned them, but they didn’t dare hang up when I introduced myself as a police investigator.” He flashed a smile at his boldness before his melancholia returned. “She wasn’t with any of them, and three of them said, ‘Thank God for that!’ They said she was a maniac when it came to sex. That she treated them like slaves and was so domineering and rough that it took them several days to get over it.”
“And the fourth?”
“He couldn’t remember her. ‘Hell no,’ he said. He’d had so many damn bitches that it would take a bloody big computer to keep track of them.”
Carl sighed. The kind of disillusionment he was witnessing just now was heartrending. Here was a man who loved Rose dearly and suddenly felt that he was being pushed off a precipice. He had to pause before each sentence and purse his lips to keep it together. It was clear that he hadn’t been the right man for the job, but it was too late now.
“I’m sorry, Gordon. We know how you feel about Rose, so this must be hard. But now you know about the chaos that has raged in her head for years, and I’m sure she’s only put herself through this in order to be able to forget.”
Gordon looked bitter. “I think it’s an odd way to do it. Goddamn it! She could’ve just talked to us, couldn’t she?” he yelled.
Carl swallowed hard. “Perhaps, Gordon. Maybe she could have talked to you, but not to Assad or me.”
The tall guy looked totally dejected and could no longer hold back his tears. “Why do you say that, Carl?”
“Because people like Assad and me are too dangerous, Gordon. We dig about when we suspect that something is wrong, and Rose knows that better than anyone. But with you it’s different because you and Rose aren’t just colleagues. You have a different relationship. She can confide in you, and if she had, you would’ve listened to her and tried to console her. And maybe it really would’ve helped her. I think you’re right about that.”
Gordon wiped his eyes and looked more alert. “I can tell that there’s something about Rose you’re not telling me, Carl. What is it?”
“Deep down you already know, don’t you, Gordon? It’s becoming increasingly clear that Rose might have killed her dad. Whether it was deliberate or not, directly or indirectly, I don’t know. But she can’t be entirely innocent.”
“What do you intend to do about it?”
“Do about it? Discover the truth and help her move on. Isn’t that what we need to do? Give her the opportunity to have a better life.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes.”
“And Assad?”
“He agrees.”
A faint smile spread across Gordon’s gloomy face. “We have to find her, Carl.”
“So you don’t think she’s dead either?”
“No.” His lips were quivering. “I can’t bring myself to think that.”
Carl nodded. “Do you think there’s anyone among the other one hundred and forty-six men who can remember her?”
He sighed. “I wondered the same thing when I had spoken with the four guys who stood out the most. But I had no idea where to begin, so I just began from the top and got ahold of nearly everyone. One a minute, I think. I just said: ‘I’m calling from the police crime division. It’s come to our attention that a missing person, Rose Knudsen, might be staying with you. Is that correct?”
“They could’ve been lying to you.”
“Hell no. None of them seemed clever enough to hide anything from me. Perhaps that’s what hurts the most. Apart from the three first men, they all sounded like their brain was attached to their dick. They were total idiots, Carl. They couldn’t lie to me.”
“Okay.” Carl was speechless. He hadn’t experienced confidence like this since he had looked at his sixteen-year-old reflection in the mirror and discovered that he had grown sideburns.
“Were there any Swedish men among her contacts?”
“Not one. And no one with an obviously Swedish-sounding name for that matter.”
“What about more normal e-mails? Hotel bookings, contact with her sisters, her mom, or Rigmor Zimmermann, for example?”
“Nothing that led anywhere. The few e-mails she had written to Rigmor Zimmermann are insignificant. A recipe that Rose wanted or vice versa, whether Rose knew something about this or that, whether she would keep a key for Rigmor. In fact, there was a lot about keys. Apparently Rigmor Zimmermann was hopeless when it came to her keys. And about the latest movies in the cinema, about the residents’ association in Sandalsparken, whether she was coming to the annual general meeting, and if so whether they should go together. Nothing that leads anywhere. Not even Zimmermann’s complaining about her daughter and granddaughter and the problems they caused her.”
Carl patted his shoulder. The man was consumed with jealousy and sorrow. But it was also in some way the second time within a very short period that he had had to wave good-bye to the one he loved.
—
Carl had just walked through the door in Rønneholtparken when Morten rushed up
to him.
“I’ve been trying to call you all night, Carl. Have you even charged your cell phone?”
Carl took it out of his pocket. It was completely dead.
“Would you mind charging it? It’s really annoying that we can’t get ahold of you. Hardy’s been really ill this evening, just so you know.”
Oh no. What now? Carl breathed deeply. He could hardly face more bad news.
“He was complaining about terrible pains in his left arm and the left side of his chest. He said it felt like electric shocks. I had to call Mika since I couldn’t get ahold of you. I was scared he would have a heart attack, so what was I supposed to do?” He demonstratively snatched the phone from Carl’s hand and plugged it in to charge in the hallway.
“What are you two doing so late?” Carl joked as he entered the sitting room. It was obvious that Mika had done anything he could to create a calm atmosphere. Apart from the fact that there wasn’t flocked wallpaper on the walls, it might as well have been a Pakistani restaurant on Bayswater Road in London. Incense sticks, candles, and so-called world music with sitars and panpipes galore.
“What’s wrong, Mika?” he asked the white-clad athlete, nervously looking at Hardy’s sleeping face poking out from under the quilt.
“Hardy almost had a panic attack this evening, which is very understandable,” he said. “I’m convinced he really did feel pain this time rather than just phantom pain. And I’ve seen him move his shoulders as if to ease the pressure from the mattress. And look at this.”
Carl looked in silence as Mika lifted up the quilt a little. Small movements like a twitching eye were visible on Hardy’s left shoulder.
“What do you think is happening here, Mika?” he asked, concerned.
“What’s happening is that tomorrow I’m going to contact two brilliant neurologists that I met during a course I took. Hardy is probably regaining feeling in some secondary, minor muscle groups. Just like you, I don’t understand it because in principle it shouldn’t be possible given his diagnosis. I had to give him a large dose of painkillers to calm him down. He’s been sleeping soundly for about an hour now.”
The Scarred Woman Page 43
