Three, Four...Better Lock Your Door (11 page)

"But didn't you ever think that it was a little excessive to open a person's brain and cut the nerve paths?"

Irene Hoeg shook her head. "We didn't back then. The idea was to cut off the connection in the brain so to speak, it was believed that thoughts and ideas and patterns were stored in the nerves of the brain. Insanity was a thought process that was kept in the nerve paths and if you cut those you could remove bad or abnormal thinking and behavior. It was a clinical procedure along with so many others. All I ever saw was that it worked."

"But it also killed a lot of patients by damaging their brains and others became apathetic vegetables for the rest of their lives. Like your patient who ended up in a nursing home," I said.

"Correct. But wasn't that better than her killing someone? That was what she was going to do.  She was a wild beast. I do believe we saved her from doing something really bad either to herself or to others."

I noted on my pad while thinking that I understood what she was saying but couldn't escape the thought that there had to have been some other way to treat the poor girl.

"But today we luckily have antidepressants and antipsychotics," I said.

The doctor closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "That we do."

"The article that I'm doing is sort of a background story about lobotomy. You know its history, who invented it, where was it used in Denmark and so on. But what I really would love to add to the article is a little detailed information about the procedure itself."

Dr. Irene Hoeg leaned over her desk. "Like what?"

"You have tried it, right?" I said.

The doctor nodded. "Like I told you. Once." She lifted her forefinger to emphasize that it was only the one time.

"Is it difficult?"

The doctor looked at me with wonder. "Is what difficult?"

"To make the cut precisely. Is it something anyone can do?"

Dr. Irene Hoeg remained pensive for a few seconds. "I don't believe anyone could do it correctly, no. You need to know about the brain. How it is put together, where everything is at, where to open it, which nerves to cut."

"Of course, but if the purpose is to kill someone, then it's not that hard is it?"

"I suppose not. If you don't care what you do then no. Anyone with a scalpel can open up the brain and cut the nerves. Provided that they know how to hold and cut with a scalpel of course."

I speculated as I wrote on my pad. The forensic report had stated that it didn't seem like a professional cut, but also that it was hard to tell since Susanne Larsen had still been alive and therefore had tried to fight for her life. Could it have been professionally made if she hadn't moved and fought? I looked at Dr. Irene Hoeg's hands. They were shaking slightly. Could the cut have been made from someone who used to do this professionally but now was older? But how was the murderer then supposed to be so physically superior to Anders Hoejmark that he could hold him with only one hand? Maybe if he was strong and in shape like Dr. Hoeg, despite her age? It was possible. Somehow this had to have a connection to what had been done back then. Somehow the killer was trying to state something by performing this procedure on his victims. But why? What kind of statement was it? Why was it so important?

"I think that was everything," I said and got up from my chair.

"That was fast," Dr. Hoeg said and escorted me to the front door. She walked with strong athletic movements.

As we reached the door I turned and looked at her. "Say have you heard about the historian who wrote a book two years ago stating that there had been cases of use of lobotomy on patients in the Nineties?"

Irene Hoeg shook her head. "I know of this so-called medical historian and his work. It's not true. The lobotomies ended in the late Seventies in this country. Of that I am certain. No psychiatric patients have been lobotomized since."

"But where did he get his information from then?"

"I don't know where he gets his ideas from. It's ludicrous. But I do know that he was forced by the publisher right after the publication of the book to recall it and excuse all of his statements made in it. It was merely accusations. He was just trying to get his fifteen minutes of fame. Now if you'll excuse me I have a granddaughter to see. It's her birthday."

"It was very kind of you to see me today," I said and shook her hand one more time before I walked down the stairs. The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked across the driveway to my car.

I had a strange feeling as I turned on the engine, a feeling that I needed to find this medical historian and talk to him.

C
HAPTER 18

B
ACK AT THE OFFICE
I wrote an article on 'The history of lobotomy through times' and another one about how it was used in Denmark. I didn't get into the discussion about when it had stopped in Denmark instead I used Irene Hoeg's statement that she had done the last one at the psychiatric hospital where she was back then and that she had no knowledge of there being done after that.

"I'm in!" I heard Sune exclaim. "I am finally in!"

I looked up from the screen and my eyes met his. He had both his arms over his head. "I did it," he said.

I grabbed my coffee cup and walked towards his desk.

"I did what the police have been trying to do since yesterday," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"They have the computer. When I got in this morning I realized that it had been moved. But I localized it as soon as they turned it on. I had a feeling they would search Brian Poulsen's apartment at some point and take his computer with them, so I put in a small tracking device in the server. This morning when they turned it on they couldn't get in. He has the best protection on it that I've ever seen. I'm pretty amazed by it. But nevertheless when they turned it on I was able to get access through what I like to call a back-door."

I stared at Sune. I had no idea what he was talking about. I just nodded along and hoped it would make sense at some point.

"Anyway," he said. "I'm not going to bother you with details on how I did it, but just let you know how awesome I am. Now I can find out everything about this guy, everything he has been up to and maybe why he has been so busy protecting himself from attacks from the outside. Now what are you hiding?" he asked the screen.

"Just let me know if you find anything," I said and went for more coffee in the kitchen. There was no cake today since Sara had stayed home, but right at that moment I felt so hungry for it. It was funny how the body got used to having its daily sugar kick. It was like a drug really. I stared at the street beneath me. It was empty. All the tourists and locals that normally filled the streets in a great weather like this were completely evaporated. My articles the same morning about the lobotomy-killer had done this. People were staying inside now. Tourists were fleeing the town, boats had left from the marina and everywhere there normally was so much life at this season was now empty and vacant. I felt sad for having been the one to make this happen. But I was after all just the messenger. It just seemed so sad. It started to rain as I stared at the buildings in front of me. A silent dusty rain fell slowly from the sky above.

Just at that second I spotted someone walking towards our building. He had drawn the hood from his sweater over his head, still I recognized him. My heart dropped. It was Christian Lonstedt. What was he doing here?

I walked to the editorial room and heard his steps on the stairs outside. The door handle turned and his head peeked in. He smiled his dazzling smile.

"Mr. Express!" Sune exclaimed and got up from the chair. "Come on in."

"Am I interrupting anything?" Christian asked.

"No. Just the usual work, you know," Sune said and they made some sort of street-smart handshake. "To what do we owe the honor?"

Christian took down the hood and shivered slightly from the cold. "Nothing. Was just in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi."

I put down my cup of coffee on the desk next to me. "Really?" I said. "That was nice of you. What are you doing all the way out here on a Sunday?"

"Oh I have the day off. No I was here on personal business and just thought I'd come up and congratulate you."

He looked at me kind of examining. I blushed to my own surprise. Why did I do that all of sudden. Why did I feel so self-conscious all of a sudden? This guy annoyed me. Why did I act like a school girl around him?

"Congratulate me on what?" I asked.

"Your articles in today's paper. They were really good. Much better than what we at the
Express
managed to do with it."

I was a little startled. Was he giving me a compliment and at the same time talking bad about his own work? I shrugged. "Well thank you. That was nice of you." I felt awkward as a silence occurred between the three of us. "Coffee?" I asked.

"Sure. That would be nice," Christian said.

"Grab a chair," I said and went to get all three of us some coffee. "I'm afraid we don't have any cake today," I said as I returned with three cups of hot coffee in my hands trying hard not to spill. "Usually we always have cake but Sara's not here today so ..."

I handed the cup to Christian and he took it. "It's perfectly fine," he said smiling. "Just the coffee is all that I need right now."

I pulled out a chair and sat in front of him while we sipped our coffee. I was beginning to think that I had misjudged the guy. I had taken him for being one of those smart ass clever fast paced journalists who just wanted their name in the paper at any cost. I was beginning to think that it wasn't him but the paper he was working for.

"So how do you enjoy working at the
Express
?" I asked.

"It's okay, I guess. It's work. Pays the bills."

"Where did you work before?" Sune asked.

"I actually just returned from Zimbabwe. I worked three years for Danida writing their press releases and web page and so on. Then I helped them out where I could in their charity work. You know fed villages and helped them build schools. That kind of stuff."

I swallowed hard. Okay the guy was a saint. And I had taken him for the devil. I felt bad.

"So how on earth did you end up on a paper like the
Express
?" I asked.

"Well I had one really bad experience while down there. An entire village was burnt to the ground while we were there. The villagers fled to the local church thinking that no one would burn down God's own house, but they did. The attackers blocked the entrance and set it on fire. They made us watch while they did it. To make us understand that anything we did in this country was in vain. We might as well go home, they said. We couldn't change Africa. We heard them burn alive inside of that church. Women, children and we knew every one of them. I especially had gotten to know a small boy who I had thought about trying to adopt and bring with me back to Denmark. He died in there as well. It was really terrible." Christian paused like he needed to shake the experience once again. "So that's why I left. We all did. Went back home. It took me a year in therapy to move on from this. I guess I just took the job I could get. To me it's more about getting out there and working again. Getting back on the horse as we say," he said with a smile and a shy shrug.

"Wow," I said. "That's some story."

"One of those that needs something stronger than coffee, Sune said and got up from his chair. He went to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out a bottle of Aalborg Akvavit - Danish schnapps - and three shot-glasses. He put them on the table and poured schnapps in them while I was trying to digest that horrible story. It had really shocked me. Christian had surprised me; he was not at all the guy I took him for.

"Cheers," Sune said and lifted the glass.

"Cheers," Christian and I repeated. Our eyes locked as our glasses touched in the air. I felt a strange sensation. Like he was seeing right through me and I blushed again.

"To friends," Christian said.

"And good colleagues," Sune said. He had noticed how Christian and I were looking at each other, I could tell by the expression on his face. It was like he was frozen in a smile. I avoided looking into his eyes.

"Good colleagues," I repeated and emptied my glass. A warm sensation flowed through my veins.

"Well. I'd better be going now," Christian said and got up from the chair. "It's a nice little place you have here."

"I bet it's not as nice as the editorial room at the
Express
," Sune said.

Christian put his hood back on to cover his head. It was raining harder now. "Well it's a lot cozier, I tell you that." He turned and looked at me with warmth in his eyes. "So is the company," he said and nodded in my direction. "See you around."

C
HAPTER 19

F
AT
L
INDA WAS -
as her nicknamed strongly implied - fat. She knew it and everybody else knew it. She hadn't always been like this though, she thought as she leaned back in her recliner that she could hardly fit into anymore. She picked up the second bag of chips today and grabbed out a handful that she dipped in ice-cream before they ended their day with the rest - crushed between her teeth then devoured and flushed down with liters of soda.

No, once Fat Linda Nielsen had been a normal girl, a young woman of a normal size and proportion. She had even been a happy young woman back then.

Linda chewed and channel-surfed the TV while trying hard not to think about that time. But it was hard not to.

She had been a nurse. A really good nurse once. The patients had liked her. She had helped them, talked to them and she had liked it. She liked that someone needed her and wanted her. It felt good to be needed. 

Now she was stuck to this stupid chair all day reduced to this huge enormous creature that could hardly move. That hardly bothered to move anymore.

Fat Linda sighed and put the remote down. She stared at her lumpy legs underneath the bags of chips and pizza boxes. How had she ever ended up like this? She could hardly recognize herself any longer. These weren't her legs. How could they be? They looked nothing like those long tanned slim legs she had shown every summer riding her bike through town. They used to be her finest feature and cause all men to turn and stare at her. Now they were white and clumpy and made her waddle when she walked.