The Girl in the Ice aka A Price for Everything

CHAPTER 35

The man who opened the door to Konrad Simonsen was well dressed, with good manners and cold, crafty fish eyes. His name was Marcus Kolding and he was a trained medic, thus the nickname Doctor Cold. It suited him well. Better than Snotfather, thought Konrad Simonsen, not without a trace of disappointment.

If the man was surprised to see his guest, he did not show it.

“The homicide chief himself, I see. To what do I owe this honour?”

Simonsen made no attempt at flattery. That would be a wasted effort.

“I need your help.”

“Then speak up, but we’ll stay right here. I don’t want you inside my home. It’s nothing personal, just a principle I have when dealing with the police.”

“Completely all right with me. Liz Suenson, does that name mean anything to you?”

The man thought about it and then answered guardedly, “Maybe. Why?”

Simonsen showed him two photographs.

“Does she resemble these two women?”

He looked and considered again, this time more briefly.

“Maybe. Why?”

Simonsen showed him yet another photograph.

“Because perhaps she ended her days like this, and because you yourself have a grandchild the same age. That’s why.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Is Liz Suenson her real name?”

“No.”

“Then I want to know what her real name was, and what she did for you.”

Kolding thought about this with a distrustful expression on his face. Finally he said, “She was Finnish, and she travelled back and forth between Denmark and Sweden… not one of my important employees.”

“Courier?”

The man nodded.

“What did she do here with you?”

He answered affably, “She was pretty.”

“Yes, she was. Her real name?”

“I can’t remember, Finns don’t have names, they just have letters in random order. But I can get it, if it’s important.”

“It’s important. What happened to her?”

“She disappeared suddenly, it was in 1992 or maybe 1993, but she didn’t take anything with her that belonged to me, so we thought she had gone back to Finland.”

“You didn’t search for her?”

“No, not particularly. She was, as I said, not… trusted.”

“How did she travel for you? I mean car, train, bus, airplane?”

“Train, and I will also give you the name of a town. It’s so long ago that it lacks significance. I won’t say anything more.”

“And that town is?”

“Hässleholm.”

“Where did she live when she was in Denmark?”

“No idea, maybe with a friend, maybe at one of my hotels. I’ll find that out.”

Simonsen gave the witness his card.

“That sounds good. Call me about the name, and whatever else you find. It’s urgent.”

“Within half an hour. Was it that psychopath you have in custody who took her?”

“That I don’t know.”

With small circular movements the man massaged his gigantic nose, a bad habit that had earned him one of his nicknames among the police. Then he said, “I don’t like that he’s taken one of mine, I really do not like that. He almost deserves a taste of his own medicine… maybe after a little fun with a blowtorch.”

“He deserves to be in prison, and so do you.”

“Then I hope you’re more effective at containing him than you were with me. Is there anything else?”

“No, but thanks for the help.”

The man closed the door without another word.