by Sara Blaedel
“I have information that says different. Someone is trying to pin it on him.”
Louise was about to say that West was likely also behind the murder of Karoline, but she held back.
“And I’m going to find out who!”
“Leave it alone, Camilla. The police have him. There’s no more you can do. Of course, Bro is doing everything he can; that’s what he’s paid to do. Why do you think he approached you and not your boss?”
Silence. Louise couldn’t stop herself. “Because you’re less experienced and the easiest one to convince to fight for his fucking guilty client. It’s called being naïve. Good night.”
She hung up, annoyed yet more nervous now. Camilla had stirred something in her, the same misgiving she’d felt while listening to Stig’s cynical theory about Karoline’s murder stemming from the cynical narcotics racket. There was a logical flaw in both situations that she couldn’t put her finger on.
She yawned and realized she was too exhausted to think clearly. It would have to wait until tomorrow. If she still felt something didn’t add up in the morning, she would go through everything one more time.
22
No one can get hold of narcotics confiscated by the police.” Jørgensen laid both hands on the desk, leaned forward, and stared right between Camilla’s eyes to make sure his words had soaked in.
Louise sighed and cursed that defense lawyer for waving the infamous red flag in front of her friend’s face.
Camilla had been sitting in their office when they came back from lunch, and she’d refused to leave, even though Louise and Jørgensen told her in no uncertain terms that they were busy.
“So, okay, let’s say it’s impossible. Can you imagine something disappearing between the time it’s found until it’s registered?”
Jørgensen sighed heavily. Louise looked back and forth between them. She’d withdrawn from the conversation, because she didn’t know enough about the procedures having to do with confiscated narcotics. Several times during the last hour she’d tried to make Camilla understand she was being manipulated.
“In principle, it’s a possibility,” Jørgensen said.
The small hairs on Louise’s arm rose. She tried to catch Jørgensen’s eye to get him to stop answering questions. He needed to wind up their little chat and politely usher Camilla out.
Camilla had been pacing the floor, but now she sat down and nodded for him to continue.
“You can’t rule out an officer sticking something in his pocket when nobody’s looking. But we’re talking about small amounts, taken from people on the street.”
Louise watched them again for a moment, then she took a deep breath. “Camilla, would you please, please stop! Does Høyer even know what you’re up to?”
Camilla shot her an annoyed look and raised her palm to shut her up.
“Then I’d better call and tell him you’re sitting here.” She was tired of Camilla always ignoring everyone when she’d made up her mind about something.
“You can’t stick a kilo of heroin in your pocket,” Jørgensen said, then looked over at Louise. “This is one stubborn friend you’ve got here.”
He smiled at Camilla. “That must have been quite a bouquet he sent you!”
Camilla was about to answer that, but instead she spread her arms wide and peered angrily at Louise. Her cheeks reddened when Jørgensen laughed.
“That has nothing to do with this,” Camilla snapped. “But if it’s true that someone is trying to frame the wrong person, you’d have to step in.”
Louise was glad she hadn’t said frame someone who’s innocent. Klaus West would never be innocent. “Well, we’d have to step in, just like we have to listen to this version of events. It’s just that there’s nothing to support it, while there’s a lot that tells us it’s not right.”
Louise thought a moment. She’d dismissed the idea last night, but her nagging unease had led her to telling Jørgensen about Camilla’s call.
“Interesting,” he’d said. He’d also listened patiently when Camilla showed up and claimed that Klaus West wasn’t the one they should be focusing on.
“How are the narcotics you seize stored?” Camilla asked, to get Jørgensen back on track.
“We have a large storage room in the basement under headquarters here, where we keep everything confiscated or seized, like stolen goods, evidence, fenced articles. We also have a special narcotics storage room. Only the superintendent of our service department and the head of Narcotics have the code and key. Occasionally things disappear from the storage room. Also from our own.”
Jørgensen nodded toward the hall, at Department A’s locked room for stolen goods.
“But no seized narcotics can be removed from the narcotics storage room, once they’ve been locked up? What happens to them? They don’t stay in there forever?”
She spoke softly, as if she were afraid her least movement would stop him.
“They’re destroyed just like the other things. Though some things are sold at the police auction.”
Camilla opened her mouth but suddenly froze. As if she forgot what she was going to say. “Destroyed?” she finally said.
“They’re taken out to be incinerated. Usually after a drug trial is over.”
Camilla was nearly panting. Louise had watched Jørgensen closely as he spoke, wondering why he was being so open with information that not even she knew about. She hoped Camilla would respect that this was confidential information.
“Narcotics are regarded as controlled waste. Which means that when the drugs are driven out to be destroyed, the police keep an eye on them from the time they leave the storage room until they’re incinerated.”
Camilla stared at him. “Maybe someone out there thinks it’s a shame to burn it all, and they take it home instead.”
Jørgensen shook his head. “Documents are also controlled waste. Whenever it’s time to burn them, we call and make an appointment to take them in to be incinerated.” He spoke like a schoolteacher to his class. “When narcotics are destroyed, we show up unannounced. Two plainclothes officers and two officers from Narcotics deliver them in one of our trucks. They guard them all the way up to the top of the building, then witness them being dumped directly into the flames. No one can come near the place.”
The silence that followed felt like a vacuum into which his words had disappeared.
“Okay.” Camilla’s voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat and studied the toes of her boots before slumping in her chair. “How many people know about the method of disposal?”
“Not many, I think. It’s not something people talk about.”
She nodded, and after a few moments she thanked him and left.
“Feel better now?” Louise asked as they stood out in the hallway.
Camilla shrugged. “I don’t really know. I can see it can’t be done, apparently.”
Louise followed her to the stairway.
“Maybe the bouquet was a little bit too impressive!” Camilla said, with a tinge of irony. “So, what’s the situation on the case right now?”
“We have the presumed murder weapon and the six hundred grams of heroin found in his apartment, plus a witness who did business with him. And all we have is West’s word that there were only five kilos of green dust. If he actually blended twenty or fifty kilos, I get it that he’s claiming it was five kilos!”
Camilla stopped and leaned against the wall. “I feel dizzy suddenly.”
Louise grabbed her arm and led her over to a bench along the wall. “Just let it go. You’re not going to get anything out of it. They’re not giving you any space in the paper, and it’s a good case we have; it’s going fine. If it’s any consolation, he won’t be sentenced for anything we can’t prove he did.”
Camilla leaned her head against her friend’s shoulder. “I didn’t even think about how he could have fixed up fifty kilos instead of five!” She held her breath and slowly let it out. “God, I’ve been naïve. You’re absolutely right!”
<
br /> Louise put her arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, you are a bit gullible, but it’s good you know it, because it’s almost impossible for anyone to convince you.”
“What the hell am I going to say when his attorney calls and asks how it’s going?”
“Call him yourself and tell him you’re not going to be involved,” said Louise, her voice firm. “He’s not the one in charge here. Tell him you’re out, or you could refer him to Høyer.”
“I’m still going to talk to Birte Jensen; I can just as well tell her what John Bro is up to. I’m meeting her in a few minutes.”
Camilla checked her watch. Almost three o’clock.
“What about Markus?”
“I’ll pick him up later. I’d better call the paper and tell them I won’t be in the rest of the day.”
Louise hugged her before she left.
“I’m glad you told me this.” Jensen looked serious as she gazed at the stack of documents on the desk in front of her. “It’s taken us a long time to get to this point. West has been a player for years, and we haven’t been able to touch him, but now it’s over. You can hardly blame him for doing what he can to convince people he’s innocent.”
“Have you checked into the possibility of what Bro is claiming? Could it in any way be someone here selling the heroin that’s been seized?”
“Camilla Lind.” Jensen’s voice was icy. “I’ve been following this man for years. He’s guilty as sin, and you’re just the latest in a line of people he’s charmed.”
Camilla turned her head instinctively, as if she’d been slapped. Her throat tightened, and she was about to defend herself when Jensen pushed the documents aside and leaned forward.
“I have great respect for your reporting, even though we’ve only just begun working together. I like the way you go after stories, and I owe you for your help.”
Camilla looked in surprise at Jensen; she wasn’t sure she understood. Her anger at being humiliated a second ago tapered off.
“This evening I’m taking two of my people along to Anders Hede’s apartment on Østerbro. He’s the man Department A is holding in connection with the murder of Karoline Wissinge. He ordered fifty grams of heroin last week. It’s being delivered this evening, and we’re going to be there when it is. You’re welcome to come along.”
Jensen’s eyes bored right through Camilla. Made her feel small. She wasn’t sure she wanted in on this. “Can I write about it?”
Jensen thought for a moment, then she nodded. “Don’t mention it to anyone before we go. We never tell when we’re going to make a raid. But afterward it’s all yours.”
Camilla thought about Høyer, hoping he would forgive her when she came in with a front-page story.
“Then you can compare what happens to the fantasy West is telling.”
She hunched her shoulders when a chill ran down her spine. This could be her story. She would be at the forefront, be mentioned on the TV evening news. “Okay.”
“Be at St. Kjeld’s Square at ten. Wait for us in front of the basement restaurant; we’ll pick you up there.”
23
Louise’s chair rocketed back when she stood up. “I’m not going out to her parents’!”
Suhr looked startled.
“He can go out there himself. But you owe them the courtesy of waiting until you’re absolutely certain that’s why she was killed.”
“We also owe them the courtesy of letting them know of developments in the case, and right now Anders Hede’s drug suppliers are the only ones who have a motive! They planned and carried out Karoline’s murder.”
“Please, please wait to say anything to them; the motive’s too iffy.”
“Hede’s best friend is Martin Dahl. And Dahl’s weakest spot is his girlfriend. He’ll never forgive Hede, ever.”
Louise crossed her arms and nodded. Several times that afternoon and evening, Stig had asked her to drive out and inform the parents. Finally, she’d exploded and marched into Suhr’s office.
“We need to loosen some tongues,” he said. “Surely we can find these guys threatening Hede, and then we put the screws to them. It’s better the parents are prepared before they read about it in the paper.”
“All right, how about this. I’ll talk to them when you have something that makes us 100 percent sure we have it right. Have you completely cleared Lasse Møller?”
Suhr raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you knew. There had been some mix-up with the bank, but after Toft asked them to have another look, they confirmed that Møller used his debit card and PIN at one fifteen a.m. at Pussy Galore. Besides that, we have two more witnesses who say he arrived right before they left, which was just past one. He’s not a suspect now.”
Louise sighed. Not because she was disappointed to hear he’d been cleared, but because it seemed so hopeless. “What does Martin Dahl have to say?”
“One minute he wants to rip Hede apart, the next minute he feels guilty that their friendship indirectly killed his girlfriend and their unborn child. It’s not so strange he didn’t dare mention his suspicion at first, but of course he couldn’t keep it to himself. We’ve been questioning him all day; he’s been given something to calm him down. Right now, he’s in the National Hospital for crisis counseling with Jakobsen.”
Louise gazed at his desk, at the soft light from the PH lamp. Earlier she’d met Toft escorting him down the hall. Dahl looked crushed, and he hadn’t recognized her when she said hello.
She noticed Suhr watching her.
“We don’t believe Martin killed her,” he said, anticipating her next question. Which she was getting ready to ask.
She shook her head. Martin hadn’t been on her list, either. She always tried to keep an open mind about suspects, but she couldn’t help having favorites.
It was ten p.m., and she’d gone through and filed the officers’ reports on the people they’d talked to in the surrounding apartment buildings on Vestergade. She suppressed a yawn and stood up. “Time to go home. See you tomorrow.”
The next morning the investigation team would be meeting with Forensics and the police prosecutor. They hoped they had enough to retain Klaus West in connection with the murders of the two reporters. They had the murder weapon and the witness statement tying him to the first crime scene, and they’d also found the key to his apartment on his key chain. That was the biggest success of the day. Without the key, it would have taken only a few minutes for his lawyer to sow doubt about him living in the apartment.
She turned around when she reached the doorway. “What the hell are we going to do if we can’t find more evidence against him?”
Suhr’s hands rested on his stomach. “There’s not much else we can do. But people might be more willing to talk if he’s in custody.”
“I don’t understand why they wiped the fingerprints off the knife instead of just throwing it away somewhere.”
She’d been turning that over in her mind. Either West and his people had felt so confident that they didn’t think it was important, or else some complete idiot had killed the two reporters and then brought the murder weapon back to the apartment without thinking.
“But at least we know the killer is part of West’s circle. Not someone he hired from outside. It could also be a sign of their sense of superiority to the police. West thinks he’s untouchable. The knife isn’t a problem to him as long as it can’t be connected to whoever used it.”
Louise shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal had been smart enough to avoid being charged.
* * *
The rain had stopped, and the streetlamp’s glare reflected off the puddles on the street. Camilla leaned up against a wall beside the basement restaurant. Would Jensen pick her up in a police car? She wasn’t sure.
She shivered, even though she was wearing jeans, a sweater, and a thick windbreaker she’d found in the closet. Her toes were freezing in her light blue sneakers. She should have worn boots. Think about nice, simple things
, she told herself. Markus, who was already asleep when she left; Christina, who had canceled a movie date to watch him; a coat she’d seen in a women’s magazine. Then she gave up. Her nervousness had started as a small lump inside after leaving Jensen’s office, and it had grown since then.
She didn’t know what to expect, but she felt certain everyone would be under pressure, since the drug case presumably was winding up.
Even before leaving home she’d understood that the people the police were looking for could be the killer or killers, or at least could lead them to whoever was. It could turn violent. And lurking in the back of her mind was her humiliation over being so naïve, now that everything could be traced back to Klaus West.
She studied the streets leading to the roundabout. Traffic was light. Every time she heard a car engine, she straightened up. It must be at least ten past ten; she reached in her pocket for her phone, but after checking all her pockets she remembered laying it on the bed while changing clothes. Damn!
Camilla walked a short way down the street, but then she hurried back; she didn’t want to attract attention. Someone was headed toward her—male or female? All she could see was a dark figure. She leaned against the wall again.
A few cars approached the roundabout. One of them sped past her; the other parked about twenty meters away. After a few moments, the driver got out and approached her.
Camilla relaxed when she saw it was Birte Jensen.
“Sorry. We had to get the final details sorted out. I have two more cars parked at the other end of the street. He lives in number six. Third building.” She pointed.
This was a bigger operation than Camilla had expected; earlier that day, Jensen had talked about bringing along two of her people. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. All she’d be doing was observing.
“You and I will enter through the courtyard, the others from the street. But we have plenty of time; we’re not moving in until eleven.”
“Okay. What exactly is going to happen?”
