The Girl in the Ice aka A Price for Everything

CHAPTER 36

Misfortunes were still piling up on Wednesday. Arne Pedersen and Pauline Berg informed Konrad Simonsen about the latest events when their boss returned to Police Headquarters. Berg went through a short but unpleasant list.

“The gangster king you just visited called. You weren’t here, of course, so he was transferred to me. Liz Suenson’s real name is Elizabeth Juutilainen, and we’ve retrieved a mug shot from 1988, when she was arrested for drug smuggling in Tampere. She was twenty-five years old in 1992, when she disappeared. The Finns are sending more data as soon as possible, but unfortunately she fits Falkenborg’s female preferences, so it is quite probable that she is his fourth victim.”

Simonsen muttered, “Yes, that doesn’t surprise me. What else do you have?”

“A message from Anna Mia, your daughter that is-”

“And?”

“You can’t make connection with her until tomorrow. It had something to do with cell-phone coverage and atmospheric disturbances in the region.”

The information annoyed Simonsen more than he cared to admit. He would have enjoyed talking with Anna Mia as a brief respite from what was turning into a lousy day. He tried only half-heartedly to conceal his disappointment as he asked grumpily, “How can she call and say that she can’t call? That doesn’t make sense.”

Pauline Berg thought quickly.

“Maybe the ship was just about to sail into the atmospheric disturbances. I’ve never been in the Caribbean, so what do I know?”

Pedersen interjected drily, “Don’t shoot the messenger, Simon.”

“Yes, obviously. But did she say anything else?”

Berg looked briefly at Pedersen, who behind his chief’s back rolled a finger around in front of his mouth as a sign that here a slightly creative interpretation was permissible. She took the hint.

“Well, she said she was doing well, but also that she missed you a lot and was looking forward to coming home. And she sends greetings.”

Simonsen lapped up the words, and Pauline Berg could continue with her list.

“Yes, then there’s one more thing. That is, maybe you, Arne, should… ”

Pedersen took the opening.

“You have been given a public rebuke by the police commissioner. She was at a press conference ten minutes ago and denounced the department’s methods concerning your instructions to Poul.”

In glaring contrast to what his subordinates had expected, Simonsen’s mood visibly brightened.

“Really! And what else happened? What about Poul?”

“Nothing. She made a point of saying that he can’t be reproached. It was you and you alone who bore responsibility-you’ve been over-eager, she maintained-and she herself, of course, as your immediate superior. She will summon you for a serious talk, as soon as this investigation is over, and the leadership in general will not comment on the eavesdropping case. But she emphasised that if anyone was interested in hearing more detailed information on the matter, they could attend your press conference at five o’clock.”

“Was that all? What about further questions from the press?”

Berg said, “No questions. After she read the statement she left, arrogant as an ice queen. If you ask me, I think it’s really unfair of her to treat you like that.”

“Sticks and stones. It doesn’t bother me.”

Pedersen stared at his boss in surprise.

“I didn’t even know that you had called a press conference. Is that something Ms Ice & Cold ordered you to do?”

“Speak respectfully about her, she always speaks respectfully about you. And no-I decided on the press conference this morning, so it’s not about the eavesdropping on Poul Troulsen, although that will come up of course. Actually I would really like the two of you to participate, if you have time? So the photographers have something to aim at, and I have someone to pass the unpleasant questions on to.”

They agreed, although they were surprised. Everyone expected the boss to be rattled by the treatment he had been subjected to, but instead he seemed more satisfied than he had been in a long time.

“Anything else?”

Pedersen briefly informed him.

“We’ve obtained serial numbers on some of the notes Falkenborg has withdrawn, but obviously that has no major significance now.”

Simonsen agreed and ignored the information.

“Anything else?”

Berg and Pedersen shook their heads. Neither of them had anything else. On the other hand Malte Borup did. He had just blundered into the office with the day’s final blow for the Homicide Division. The student asked, out of breath, “Have you heard what he got? Andreas Falkenborg, that is.”

They all shook their heads.

“I’ve seen it on the Internet. He got four days.”

Pedersen corrected him tolerantly. “You mean, four weeks?”

“No, days. Four days. Until Sunday morning, I’m quite certain. He was not taken into protective custody. The judge was content to extend the arrest, whatever the hell the difference is.”

They sat like statues, looking doubtfully at each other. The student lowered his head. With his unruly hair and sorrowful eyes he resembled a whipped dog. He had expected praise for bringing the information so fast. Simonsen was the first to pull himself together. He said in annoyance, “The difference is that we don’t get the weekend off. Among other things.”