The Midnight Witness

by Sara Blaedel

  He nodded. “We’re already knocking on doors in the buildings surrounding the courtyard, but we haven’t checked if Klaus West lives there. Right now, we’re looking for people who might have seen or heard something.”

  He stopped for a moment and stared at the wall. “We’ll have to show all of them a photo of West.” He snorted and peered at Louise, as if she were the one piling more on his shoulders. He told Willumsen to make sure all the officers knocking on doors had a copy of the picture.

  “I need more personnel for these two murders, so we’re going to have to do some shuffling,” Suhr said, to no one in particular. “Willumsen’s detectives will stay on, of course, and I’ve decided to move Rick and Jørgensen over as reinforcements.”

  He continued before checking their reactions. “Toft and Stig will stick with the Karoline Wissinge case. It looks like it’s going to drag on. Everyone else is going to work their asses off on the murders of these reporters. We might as well get ready for a lot more media attention. God forbid,” he added.

  Louise seethed at the unfairness of downgrading Karoline’s murder, but she kept herself from showing it because she felt Stig’s eyes on her. Most likely he was angry, too, about not being moved over to the new case. Every available resource and all their focus the next several days would be on the murders of the two reporters.

  “I’ve asked everyone who possibly can to attend the briefing with the techs at ten. I want you two there.” He nodded at Louise and Jørgensen and stood up. The room emptied out quickly.

  Louise put water on for tea. She looked for a thermos that didn’t smell of coffee, but finally she gave up and grabbed the clay teapot in the back of the cupboard. The bitter taste from two cups of morning coffee lingered in her mouth. She called Peter from her office to fill him in on the new situation, which meant he wouldn’t be seeing much of her the next several days.

  Suhr was standing in the doorway when she hung up. “Can I have a word?” He beckoned her to follow him down the hallway to his office.

  After they sat down, he said, “Is the move okay with you?”

  Usually he didn’t ask things like this.

  Before she could answer, he said, “I need someone who can get people to talk.”

  “You already know I think it’s unfair to downgrade Karoline’s murder, just because another case has more media focus.”

  “That’s my decision to make.”

  “I know that, and I’d absolutely like to work on the other case,” she said, aware that she might as well accept the reassignment. “It’s just the principle of the thing.”

  Of course she would switch teams. She was already involved in the case, and she would love to help put the champagne man behind bars. She flashed on the bouquet sent to Camilla.

  “Good! So, we agree.”

  She decided to tell him about meeting Klaus West. Suhr jotted down a few words as she spoke, looking up occasionally to judge how far along she was in her story.

  “Do we know his real name?” he asked, after she told him about Camilla talking to the Finn in her apartment.

  She shook her head, but then she realized that Birte Jensen might.

  “We need to bring your friend in for an interview, but Jørgensen can do it.”

  Louise nodded gratefully. It would be way too awkward for her.

  “I can see you and Jørgensen as partners on a more permanent basis. It’s my impression that you work well together.”

  He thought for a moment. “I may call Velin back in; you could hook up with him again if you want. No matter what, we’re going to need a lot of personnel on these cases. We can’t afford to let anything get by us here at the start.”

  Louise hadn’t thought much about her old partner this past week. She was already used to Lars Jørgensen.

  “I’d like for you to handle the family,” Suhr said. “We’ll have to get the wife in for questioning. And the children. Do you know how many he has, their ages?”

  “The oldest is eighteen, and the youngest is about to have her confirmation.”

  He made a note of that. “I appreciate the observations you and Flemming Larsen made about Karoline Wissinge. Holm’s autopsy is scheduled sometime between eleven and twelve; I want you there. Jørgensen can take another officer along to speak to the wife and kids. When they come in to give their statements, you’ll join them.”

  She nodded in agreement. Fine. It was rare for her to be sent to observe an autopsy, but she took it as a pat on the back. Almost everyone had their strengths; some were good at crime scenes, for example. Usually she was assigned to families and those closest to victims, while others were sent to the autopsy. Apparently, her skill set was being broadened. “Who informed his wife?”

  “Glostrup police,” he said. “They were out there early this morning. I haven’t spoken to her myself, but I’m assuming she’ll call for more details. If the briefing with the techs lasts too long, take off. It’s important for you to be at that autopsy.”

  She checked her watch; the briefing would start in an hour. They stood up and headed for the door. “Do we know what Holm was doing yesterday?”

  “We don’t know anything really, not yet. The local officers only informed his wife, they didn’t ask any questions.”

  Before she reached her office, Michael Stig walked up and stopped directly in front of her.

  “So, you’re moving on to the next case.” She could hear him trying to hide his irritation.

  “Yeah, that’s the way it goes. We just do what we’re told.” Again, she kept her face blank; it wasn’t her problem he felt slighted.

  “Right,” he said, studying her. “Maybe it’s for the best, too. We must move on. Solving this case will take more than talk; we’ve got to put the pieces of the puzzle together.”

  She took a step back. “And you don’t think I’m any good at that?”

  He smiled and held his palm up in front of her. “It’s not that, but the first phase of an investigation—isn’t that more your strong suit? The boss has to use his resources the best way possible.”

  He was so full of himself. Her stomach began roiling, but she did her best to smile sweetly. “Then it’s good he has someone like you.”

  She tried to slide by him, but he was still blocking her. “It’s more that he sees me in another context; that’s why he lets me do the heavy lifting.” He clicked his tongue.

  “Well then, you’ll probably be the new DCI.” Suddenly she understood that’s what he’d been hinting at. She felt light-headed.

  “So, you caught that. Yeah, I guess it’s pretty evident.” He crossed his arms.

  “I didn’t know you’d taken a leadership course.”

  At one point, Louise had thought about applying for leadership training, which would qualify her for a promotion to DCI, but she’d decided she was most comfortable with what she was doing. She had no leadership ambitions.

  “I haven’t yet,” he said, “but they’re putting a new class together, and I’m meeting with Suhr later today, so I’m just putting two and two together.”

  “I’m expecting Heilmann to come back.”

  She squeezed past him and strode directly to her office, fuming all the way. She slammed the door behind her, and Jørgensen jumped. He couldn’t help smiling when he saw the grim look on her face.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Just had the pleasure of Stig’s company out in the hall. He’s pushing hard to be our new DCI. If it happens, I’m putting in for a transfer. Traffic cop.” She plopped down on her chair and sighed deeply.

  Jørgensen wasn’t laughing now. It pleased her to see he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of DCI Stig, either.

  “I thought you two got along okay,” he said. “He hardly dares to open his mouth after you’ve had your say about something.”

  She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Why do you think that?”

  “He seems to have a lot of respect for you; you always put him in his plac
e.”

  “Him, respect for me? I don’t think so, but he can be absolutely aggravating.” She poured a cup of tea.

  “He’s applied for the next leadership course.” Jørgensen looked out the window. “I did, too. I really hope I get in.”

  After a moment, she nodded. She could see it, Lars Jørgensen, a quiet man. He’d be good at coordinating investigations. “I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed that you make it and he doesn’t.”

  He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

  “Suhr wants me over at the hospital to observe the autopsy when the briefing’s over. Has anyone told you anything?” She hoped he knew what they’d be doing, but he shook his head. She explained what Suhr wanted them to do.

  “Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll find out who’s going with me to talk to the family. And I’ll call and let you know when to meet me back here for the questioning.”

  She nodded, happy that he had no problem with their assignments. “Sounds like a plan.” A good plan, she thought.

  Louise called Forensic Medicine and asked to speak to Flemming Larsen. She hoped he would be doing the autopsy, even though he hadn’t examined the body on Vestergade that morning. Tuesday was the busiest day of the week for autopsies. Inquests were held on Mondays for those who died from Friday to Sunday. Some of the autopsies would be done later in the week, but a case beginning to look like a serial killer had top priority.

  “Flemming Larsen.”

  “Hi, it’s Rick. Are you doing Søren Holm?”

  “Yeah, that was my plan, anyway.” He almost sounded cheery.

  “Good. You’re the one best able to determine if he was killed the same way as Frank Sørensen, or if it’s a copycat.”

  He chewed on that for a moment. “That’s a possibility. I hadn’t thought about it, but of course you can’t rule out some psycho joining the party.”

  She hadn’t thought about it, either, until then. Either someone had to be horribly angry with Holm, if there was no connection to the other case, or else someone was out of his mind.

  She wrote these thoughts down on her notepad, then she asked when he would start.

  “We’ll head down at eleven thirty. That’s when the techs are coming in.”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  The briefing was in five minutes. Louise and Jørgensen grabbed their notepads and walked over to the lunchroom. Frandsen from Forensics was setting up to show a video. Louise smiled at him and sat down. Slowly the room filled up with detectives returning from Vestergade. They sat in groups, speaking quietly with each other. Everyone except Louise and Jørgensen had been working intensely the past several hours, and soon they would be back at it.

  “We don’t have much for you yet,” Frandsen said when everyone had arrived. “But I can show you where we’re at.”

  He started the video. About a dozen techs in white bodysuits appeared on the screen. The basement stairway was in back to the left. Spotlights had been set up in several places along the walls; the blazing light transformed the courtyard into a scene, a fictional, unreal setting. Several techs walked around with eyes glued to the ground. Each carried a small apparatus connected to a laser flashlight, which illuminated traces of blood. Chalk circles had been drawn in several places on the asphalt. The camera zoomed in on two techs leaning over something on the ground; they each held a paper strip that determined if a stain was blood or semen.

  Every time Louise watched the techs working with the long paper strips, she thought of all the hours she’d sweat through chemistry classes. The strips worked like the litmus paper her teacher had handed out to test for acid and alkaline. Violet revealed blood, green revealed semen.

  Louise watched the paper slowly turn violet. There was definitely more blood there than in the bicycle shed behind the Royal Hotel. The killer had moved his victim, she guessed.

  There were seven entrances to the courtyard from the surrounding apartment buildings, and a bicycle shed stood just inside the main entrance. Three techs were sealing it off to protect any evidence, but it appeared they hadn’t found anything yet.

  Frandsen turned off the video, then he quickly went through the trace evidence they had secured. “As I’m sure you noticed, this time we’ve found blood from the victim. We did the last time, too, but not nearly as much. We’re working from the assumption that he was killed somewhere else in the courtyard and dragged over to the basement stairway.”

  The sound of pens scratching on notepads filled the room.

  “Right now, we don’t believe the killings took place in an apartment, but we’re searching the back stairs of every apartment building.”

  He took a moment to catch his breath. “It looks like the same murder weapon, or at least the same type of weapon—likely a butterfly knife. We haven’t found it yet, but the puncture wound is similar.”

  Suhr waved his hand. “The pathologist there this morning is certain that Holm wasn’t dead more than six hours when he was found. That means he was still alive around midnight.”

  Frandsen sat down on a chair against the wall, and Suhr took over. “We haven’t spoken to anyone who can tell us when Holm was last seen alive, but hopefully we’ll know that by the end of the day. Station City is assisting us; several of their officers will help question residents in the surrounding apartment buildings. We talked to most of them this morning.” He took a deep breath. “None of them saw or heard anything, except for a young couple who came home around two a.m. They were parking their bikes, and they noticed a couple who seemed very involved in each other. They didn’t want to disturb them, so they hurried up to their apartment. They didn’t sense anything at all wrong—on the contrary. The couple seemed to be very affectionate, is how they put it. Apparently, everyone else was sleeping soundly. None of them knew any Søren Holm, or knew of anyone with that name living in the neighborhood. Which is true, there isn’t.”

  Louise glanced at her watch: ten forty-five. She carefully pushed her chair back, stood up, and walked to the door.

  They began streaming out of the lunchroom when she was on her way down to her bike. She stopped Jørgensen and reminded him that three o’clock was the earliest she could be back, and she hoped that would be okay for the interview with Holm’s wife and two daughters. Jørgensen nodded.

  “I talked to Suhr; he’s going to call them. He’s the one keeping them up to date anyway. He’ll ask them if we can come over now and search the house; maybe Holm has an office there. It would be nice to find something he was working on that could possibly explain the murder.”

  “Don’t get your hopes too high,” Louise said. She explained that Holm was the kind of guy who left his job behind when he got home.

  “Well, anyway, we’ll have to go through his things. And then his wife and kids can either drive in themselves, or we can bring them back with us. They might want to get away for a while. I can imagine reporters are flocking around their house, unfortunately.”

  Louise nodded. That could very well be. She thought about Camilla. “By the way, Suhr wants you to question Camilla Lind.”

  He glanced at his notepad and nodded.

  “I would be forever grateful if I wasn’t involved in that interview,” she added.

  “Of course. In fact, I was going to call her right away, but it’ll have to wait until we’re back with the family.”

  Louise nodded. “I’m outta here.” She flung her bag over her shoulder. He waved goodbye.

  17

  Outside the Department of Forensic Medicine, Louise recognized a man from Forensic Services, standing alongside a slender, pale young woman carrying a large bag. She couldn’t think of his name, but she walked over and introduced herself. The man greeted her enthusiastically; they must know each other better than she remembered, she thought.

  “Åse,” the woman said, and shook Louise’s hand.

  She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and since she was with an experienced tech, Louise thought she must be a trainee. She felt sorry fo
r her; the first few autopsies were tough. Louise asked if she was new there.

  “I’ve worked for the department in Ålborg for three years, but I’ve only been in Copenhagen for a month.”

  The strength and conviction in her voice surprised Louise. She didn’t seem the slightest bit frail once she opened her mouth. They chatted until the glass door opened and Flemming appeared.

  “Okay, he’s ready,” the pathologist said. He greeted all three of them, and they followed him up the steps to the hallway outside the autopsy rooms. In the dressing room just inside the door, they donned plastic gowns, shoe covers, and masks. Louise also pulled a net over her dark hair before entering the autopsy room with her notepad.

  The moment she walked in the long hall with the open stations, the smell hit her. Sterile, clinical. And the smell of death. Intestines also. She took a few deep breaths before following the others to the farthest room, which was twice as big as the others. They called it the murder room.

  Søren Holm lay on the steel table in the middle of the room, ready for all the necessary examinations, after which he would be opened. Louise avoided looking at his face.

  Åse unpacked the camera and began photographing the body. During the procedure, Flemming described in short sentences his actions and his evaluations.

  The front of the body was unmarked, with no abrasions, no sign of a fight or violence or self-defense. Samples were taken with swabs; his fingernails were cut. When the lab assistants turned him over, the puncture wound came into sight. Louise thought it stood out more than the one on Frank Sørensen’s neck. She stepped closer for a better look. After the entire body had been thoroughly examined, it was washed with water and a sponge.

  “Time for a break,” Flemming said when he finished. He walked over to the lab assistants’ office to tell them the body was ready to be opened.

  Louise followed him. She hadn’t noticed how Åse was handling the autopsy, but the young woman looked unaffected.

  “Now it’s going to get interesting,” Flemming said. “We were fooled last time, at least in a way.”