Bogman (26 page)

“The wigwam is for storing stuff, Dad.”

“And you don’t know Aksel’s surname?”

“It’s Schmidt,” said Agnes. “Magnus told me that as well.”
 

“Thanks for that, at least.”

“But no thanks for going up to the camp, Dad. Now they’ll all know my Dad’s a policeman,” said Agnes. There was a bitter note in her voice. “We have an informer in the camp. We went to block the road to stop some equipment getting into the forest. The police were waiting for us.”

“Don’t you think the police might have guessed you’d try to block the road?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Agnes sounded bitter now. “They’ll all think I’m the informer because my dad’s a policeman.”

“Does Magnus think that?”

“He trusts me. He knows I’d never betray the group.”

“Why don’t you give it all a rest for a while,” said Tobias quietly. “There are plenty of others to protect the forest and the otters.”

“If we all thought like that, nobody would protect anything. We’d go on destroying the planet. And it’s not otters, Dad. It’s bats. Bechstein’s bat. And the trees as well. They’re the lungs of the earth.”

Tobias sighed. “So where are you now?”

“In Copenhagen. But I’m going up to the camp this weekend.”

“I thought you had an essay to write?”

“I can write in a tent too.” The smile was back in her voice now. “Relax, Dad. Smell the flowers. I’m fine and everything’s cool.”

Tobias sat for a while pondering how anyone could suspect Agnes of being an informer. Agnes who couldn’t tell a lie, who hated dishonesty. Perhaps he should, after all, tell Agnes he thought Magnus was sleeping with the blonde girl at the camp. Maybe she knew already. The young seemed to share everything these days. Best not to interfere. All he could do is hope for the best. Which for him would be for Agnes to fall out of love with Magnus and into love with somebody else.
 

He put the key in the ignition. He paused. He picked up his phone and read again the text Sofie had sent him in reply to his apology.
 

“You owe me. Reception 7pm Royal Hotel. Be there.”

He texted, “And dinner afterwards?” Maybe coffee at Sofie’s place as well. He turned the key and drove back to Fredensgade in high spirits.

Eddy and Katrine were in Larsen’s office when he went to arrange a search warrant for the squat.
 

“More trouble I suppose,” said Larsen when he saw Tobias. “It usually comes in threes. I’ve just had Haxen tell me someone from Immigration might have killed a prostitute. And one of the key witnesses is a tout for PET.”

“I need a warrant to search a squat in Brabrand, Sir,” said Tobias.
 

“It can wait,” said Larsen.
 

“I’m close to finding Emily Rasmussen, Sir.”
 

“And I’m close to boiling point. Right?” Larsen’s eyes were bright with anger. “I’ve had journalists on the phone for the last hour. More bones were found at the recycling depot. Someone tipped off the press.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
 

“It must have been someone at the depot,” said Eddy.

“Of course it’s someone at the depot.” Larsen glared at Eddy. “If I thought it was a member of the force I’d have them demoted on the spot.” He drew a breath. “They’ve stopped the conveyor whatsit until this is sorted. I don’t want any more complaints about men being paid to stand around and do nothing. I want this bones business cleared up, pronto. Right? Get up there straightaway, Lange.”
 

Tobias knew it was useless to argue with Larsen when he was in a temper.
 

Larsen turned to Eddy. “I don’t want anyone, apart from Chief Inspector Lange, to know someone from Immigration might be involved until I’ve spoken to Renata Molsing and Internal Affairs. And I mean anyone. Right? Now get on with it.”

“What about PET, Sir,” asked Eddy.

“I’ve already had them on the line wanting assurances you won’t pull in this Turk for questioning. They don’t want to upset him. Hah! Upset away, Haxen if you have to. I won’t have PET swanking all over us.”
 

Tobias thought he sounded almost cheerful at the prospect of a row with the notoriously self-regarding Intelligence Service.
 

“A fine kettle of fish,” growled Larsen. He had calmed down. “We can sort out the warrant in the morning. Off you go.” He waved them away.
 

“Good luck, Boss,” said Eddy, when they were safely outside Larsen’s office. “If you find any pink panties in the rubbish, let me know.”
 

40.

Tobias drove through three police checkpoints on his way to the city waste disposal depot. Larsen was clearly determined to keep the media at bay. A television crew had managed to get through to the third checkpoint. Tobias ignored their pleas for information. He drove to the recycling area, parked beside the Forensic van and went into the shed.
 

Harry Norsk and Karl Lund were standing over a static conveyer belt looking at six white bones and a small olive green canvas bag. It looked like the kind of bag a fisherman might use for bait. The supervisor stood about a metre away, looking anxious. Half a dozen men in yellow overalls sat on the ground, their backs to the wall, looking bored.
 

Tobias raised his hand in a general greeting and went to join Karl and Harry.
 

“What can you tell me?” he said.
 

“Not much,” said Harry. “Except I’m fairly confident these are human bones. I’ll run the usual tests, of course, but,” he picked up a long thin bone in his gloved fingers. “This is the humerus, the bone that runs from the shoulder to the elbow.”

The supervisor’s eyes were as round as saucers. His jaw visibly dropped.
 

“The bones that turned up ten days ago were the ulna and the radius,” said Harry. “They’re the bones that run from the elbow to the wrist. I can’t say yet whether this bone,” he waved the humerus like a flag, “was attached to them, but my guess – and it’s only a guess – is that it was.”

“Meaning all the bones are from the same body,” said Tobias.

“I think so,” said Harry. “I’m sending them to Brix.” He paused. “There’s one strange thing. These bones have been cleaned.”

“Cleaned? What with?”

“Probably hot water and detergent,” said Harry. “That’s what I use. There’s hardly a trace of dust on them. They can’t have been in the skip for long.” He picked up the second bone and dropped both bones into a clear plastic bag. “There’s not much I can do here. I’m taking them back to the lab.”
 

“They were in a skip at Viby,” said Karl. “Building materials for recycling mostly.” He waved at the assortment of cupboard doors, plastic shelves, window frames, bricks lying further along the belt. “And some other stuff, as well as the bones.”

“People are always dumping things in skips,” said the supervisor. He was composed now. “The Viby skip had two broken bicycle wheels, crisp packets, cigarette butts, old videotapes, you name it. A busted beach ball. Even a couple of golf balls. But as soon as I looked in the bag and saw the bones, I stopped the belt straightaway.” He fidgeted. “When do you think we can start up again?”

Tobias looked at Karl and raised an eyebrow.
 

Karl picked up the canvas bag. “We’re done here. All the other stuff, the bicycle wheel etcetera, is in the van”, said Karl.
 

Tobias turned to the supervisor. “You can start up again whenever you like.”
 

The supervisor grinned. “My boss at city hall will be happy.” He put two fingers into his mouth and whistled. The men in yellow helmets got to their feet.

Tobias and Karl left the recycling shed and walked to their vehicles. Behind them, the conveyor belt jerked into life.
 

Eddy and Katrine were in the basement garage looking for the bag they hoped contained Girlie’s panties.
 

 
“They were in the same bag as the jacket with the swastika,” said Eddy.

“I think this is it.” Katrine held up a bag. She put it on the ground, opened it, plunged her gloved hands into the contents and pulled out the pink panties. She sat back on her heels and grinned at Eddy.

Katrine dropped the panties into a plastic bag. She and Eddy went to the Forensic lab. Karl wasn’t back from the recycling yard. Eddy attached a note to the bag and left it on Karl’s desk.
 

They met Renata Molsing on their way to the Investigations Room. She waved a sheet of paper at them.

“I’ve had a reply from Hotmail. They’ve sent me a list of the IP addresses and the ISP host sites for the Emily Rasmussen emails, along with the geolocations. Plus the date when the email address was set up. Here you are.” She handed the paper to Eddy. “Good luck.”
 

Eddy glanced at it. He whistled. “She gets around,” he said. “Sweden, Norway, Germany, France.”

When Tobias got back from the recycling centre, he found Eddy and Katrine going through the geolocation list.
 

“Emily’s email was set up at an IP address in Skandeborg on the twenty-fourth of September 1998, the date of the first email to her mother. The twelfth of April emails are all from Internet cafes or open broadband hubs in public places,” said Eddy. “Seven of them are in Denmark, including the most recent one: three from Copenhagen, one each from Odense and Fredericia, two from Aalborg. Two are from Lapland. Pitea in Sweden Lapland and Hurtigruten in Norway, to be precise. One is from Hamburg. One is from Arles in France. Two are from Stockholm.”

“I’ll check to see what was happening in those places around the date the emails were sent,” said Katrine. “If there were green protests. Something that might have attracted Emily.”
 

“Larsen has sorted out a search warrant for the squat at Brabrand,” said Tobias. “We’ll go in tomorrow morning. Let’s do catch-up on everything else.”

He led the way to the Investigations room. The photographs of Girlie were still pinned to the board. Her round features, bright-eyed, alive. Her bruised face, eyes-closed, dead.
 

 
Tobias straightened a chair and sat down. Eddy perched on a desk. Katrine stood gazing at the photographs.
 

“We spoke to a prostitute who worked with Girlie,” she said. “Her name’s Augustina. She and the Turk took Girlie to the hospital after the earlier attack. Same perpetrator. According to Augustina, he gagged Girlie with her panties. He beat her up. He filmed her.”
 

“We found the panties,” said Eddy. “At least we think they’re her panties. There could be DNA as well.”

“Probably only Girlie’s,” said Katrine. “He wore gloves.”

“If we’re lucky, he wanked all over them,” said Eddy.
 

Katrine made a face.
 

“Even a DNA match is no good unless we have someone to match it to,” said Tobias.

“Larsen said if we got DNA he could ask all the males in Immigration to take DNA tests,” said Eddy.
 

“Lets talk about the bones,” said Tobias. “This last lot were dumped in a skip at Viby. They were in a canvas bag. An olive green bag, with a shoulder strap. The kind of thing a fisherman might use. We’ll put a notice up near the skip, with a picture of the bag. Did you see anyone put this bag in the skip? That kind of thing. It’s a long shot, but someone might have seen something. Can you arrange that, Katrine?”

She nodded. “I’ll do that right away.”

“I’ll see you both in the morning,” said Tobias.
 

41.

Tobias disliked receptions but he had to attend them from time to time. Award ceremonies, visits by the National Commissioners, visits by members of the Royal Family, foreign police delegations, meet-the-press evenings – he loathed them all equally. He had developed a strategy for coping. He made a mental list of the people he had to converse with in case Larsen asked him what he thought about so-and-so, or what so-and-so had said about some aspect of policing. He worked his way through the names. When he had ticked off everyone on the list, he went home.
 

Tonight’s reception was different. It had nothing to do with work. It was a corporate social affair. Sofie and Hannah were entertaining potential clients of a manufacturer of golf equipment. Tobias didn’t need to ask himself why he was going to the kind of event he would normally avoid. The reason was standing beside a hefty bag of golf clubs, her high heels digging into a thick mat in a near-luminous shade of green with a small white circle on it. The mat was attached by a cord to a large screen showing a well-known Danish professional golfer continuously sweeping a golf ball into the blue distance. Sofie was surrounded by men. She was smiling, gesticulating, nodding her head in answer to questions Tobias could not hear.
 

A man stepped out of the audience and stood on the mat. Tobias saw that it was Norbert, loyally supporting Sofie’s demonstration of what appeared to be a machine to measure? – Improve? – the golf swing. Sofie stepped off the mat and handed Norbert a golf club. He swung the club. A set of numbers replaced the golfer on the screen. Sofie clapped her hands. Another man stepped out of the crowd. Tobias recognised Marcus Thomsen. Sofie gave him a club. He swung it. Another set of numbers flashed on to the screen. Marcus Thomsen looked smug. Sofie said something. There was general laughter and applause.
 

Now Sofie saw Tobias. She smiled and called out to him.
 

“Come and have your swing analysed.”
 

Tobias hesitated. If he refused she would think him churlish. She would accuse him of false modesty. A space opened for him. He stepped on to the mat, took the club, swung it. Another set of numbers. More applause. Tobias didn’t wait to decipher the numbers. He retreated into the crowd. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. It was the Commissioner. He was asking if Tobias was a member of the East Jutland Police Golfing Society.