The Hanging

Chapter 6

The corpses in the gymnasium were gone and all the windows were open, and yet it seemed to Pauline Berg, when she walked in the door, that the smell was unbearable. But it was most likely a deception of the senses and thus possible to verify. Konrad Simonsen was sitting in the middle of the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He reminded her of a monk in a pagoda and she had trouble guessing what he was up to.

“Arne said you wanted to talk to me.”

She could hear that she sounded like a nervous exam taker. Normally she dealt well with men, who often found her attractive and intelligent, but her boss was the exception that proved the rule, and apart from the fact that her choice of clothing was sometimes criticized by his puritanical gaze, he seemed mostly to ignore her. That is, on a personal level. She obeyed his gesture and sat down next to him.

“Did you see the bodies?”

“Yes, the sweet old doctor showed me around. I’ve forgotten what he is called but he carried on a running explanation of everything while we were looking and it wasn’t so bad.”

“The sweet old doctor is Arthur Elvang, and all of us have gotten sick from time to time. You are definitely not the only one who has thrown up today but you’ll find that you toughen up over the years. I don’t know if that is good or bad.”

“It will definitely be more practical.”

She tried a smile but did not set much of a response, and the situation struck her as strange. She shifted uncomfortably.

He must have noticed her restlessness, or else he read her thoughts. At any rate he said, “There is a reason why we are sitting here-I’ll come to that later. Tell me how the janitor reacted when you found him.”

“It was actually a canine unit that tracked him down, or rather, the dog. It was down by the shed for the athletic equipment by the soccer field, and he claimed he had only just woken up. I don’t know… there’s not much more to say. He mostly ignored me, apart from saying that he would tell my teacher about the rain poncho. Arne was very thoughtful…”

“Yes, I know. That was nice of Arne. Go on about the janitor.”

“He said that about the rain poncho to needle me, but apart from that he was quite meek. We delivered him to the Countess. He was afraid of the dog so it was told to stay behind. Out in rain.”

“What was your impression of him?”

“My first impression was that he seemed pathetic. He reeks of beer and needs a bath. On the other hand… he is also… it’s hard to explain.”

“Take your time. I’m a patient man.”

She paused for reflection, and Simonsen studied the ceiling.

“He isn’t quite as much of a wreck as he seems, I’m sure of it. And he is somehow… present.”

“Highly conscious and aware?”

“Yes. No. Not in that sense. It’s just that it seems like he knows what’s going on the whole time, even when his answers are completely loopy.”

“You were present when he was being questioned?”

“Only in the beginning. It was Troulsen and the Countess who interrogated him and it was sort of an unspoken agreement that I would just listen, but I read the rest. The recording was sent to HS and after an hour we had a transcription. I can tell that we have reinforcements-I’ve never experienced anything quite like this.”

Simonsen noted that she had started referring to headquarters as “HS,” which was new for her. “HS” for “Head Square,” as they said in the Homicide Division. He replied, “I haven’t either. But you were only there at the beginning?”

“Yes, then they sent me away to find a TV and watched your press conference.”

“To keep an eye on me and see if I made a spectacle of myself?”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

She paused, then proceeded carefully. “They said that it wasn’t one of your areas of expertise. Press conferences, I mean.”

“I see. They said that? And what do you think? Did I make a fool of myself?”

Although he was difficult to read, she tried to be somewhat honest.

“No, I don’t think so. You didn’t really say much. It was mostly the others, but you clearly don’t care much for the platinum blonde from Dagbladet.”

“Her name is Anni Staal and she represents a regrettable turn in human evolution, but personally I have nothing against her except that she should be deported. Was it so obvious?”

“No, I don’t think so. Only to someone who knows you.”

“And you do?”

The exam-taking pupil was back in one stroke. But only for a fleeting visit. Simonsen took the edge off his words by patting her kindly on the knee.

“Enough of that. Tell me how you felt when Per Clausen teased you about your age.”

Berg was bewildered. “How I felt?”

“Yes, how you felt.”

“Is it important?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Try to answer.”

She closed her eyes to recall the episode and therefore didn’t see her boss nod appreciatively.

“It wasn’t mean-spirited. He was looking at me almost as if we were friends. He wasn’t being snotty about it, if you get me.”

“I understand. What else?”

“It was the only time he really noticed me. He teased me, but in a nice way, as if he cared about me.”

“And you like him?”

She opened her eyes.

“Yes, I do. Can you please tell me what this is all about?”

“Later, later. How old are you again?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Thank you. And now for my ceiling. How is your geometry?”

“Neither good nor bad, but I’m no mathematical genius.”

“That’s not necessary. If you look at the screw holes for the hooks that were holding the ropes, you’ll see that they have been placed with precision. Both in relation to the center of the room and in relation to each other. I’ve been pondering those holes for a while now and have arrived at the fact that the placement can be determined from the length and breadth of the ceiling panels. It’s not immediately obvious, but not so difficult either, once you’ve caught on to the idea. You don’t need measuring tape. You can manage it with some string, a pencil, and a thumb in the right place. It would be simpler, easier, and much more accurate.”

“I follow what you’re saying. Broadly speaking.”

“The details are not of much consequence. But do you know how the lines in the intersection between two circles looks like?”

“Yes, they are curved.”

“Exactly, and from the placement and dimensions of the arcs you can estimate where the centers of the two circles must be.”

Suddenly a light went on in Berg’s head and she saw it.

“A thumb. Do you mean prints?”

“Unfortunately not. The technicians have checked and there are none. I just want to know if the one who put in the hooks did so in the way that I would have done. You are said to be strong and flexible, is that right?”

She reacted by getting to her feet, adjusting her pants, and effortlessly stretching a leg over her head.

“That was a convincing answer. Martial arts? Gymnastics?”

“Ballet. Would you like to see a pirouette?”

“Another time. I didn’t know you could dance.”

“My mother had big plans for me. I was going to be a soloist with the Royal Ballet Company, nothing less would do. Thank goodness I didn’t make it past the entrance auditions because my arches were too weak, so my mother turned her attention over to my little sister instead and let me dance for pleasure instead of duty.”

Word upon word tumbled out; dance was Berg’s great passion. In the daily routine she did not belong to the division’s epicenter, and the fact that she was a part of Simonsen’s inner circle depended exclusively on her age, not her abilities. She was there to provide the younger generation’s perspective. Now she was enjoying telling her boss about herself, until she noticed his distant expression and it occurred to her that it might not be the time and place for her autobiography. Nonetheless, the monologue had loosened her tongue.

“You stopped listening a long time ago. Isn’t that so?”

It was correct. Simonsen was in his own world, far from physical aesthetics and symphonic choreography. In his thoughts he was trying to imagine what could drive a person to mutilate five human beings with a chainsaw and hang them naked in a school, of all places. Hate, mental illness, callousness, idealism? None of these fit well, each at best only a partial explanation.

She had to repeat her question before he replied.

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“More or less, but don’t make too much of it. When things are back to normal I would like to see you dance and hear your story. And then you will have my complete attention, I promise.”

He pointed at the ceiling.

“We’re going to go up and take a look at the two closest holes.”

It was clear that by “we” he meant “you.”

“You want to know if there are curved lines at each hole and which way the lines are pointing, correct?”

“Just as I described it to you, yes. But the school scaffolding has been removed for investigation, and although the technicians used a crane when they removed the bodies, they unfortunately took it with them.”

“So what are you thinking? I’m fit but my flying abilities are a bit rusty.”

Her cheeky remarks flew out without a second thought. Luckily for her, he smiled.

“Of course they are. But perhaps we could… do a little work with the ropes.”

They pulled the ropes out. Berg looked them up and down measuringly and agreed that he was right. As long as one was unconcerned with safety, it was not an impossible undertaking.

“But we can’t afford to fall down.”

“On the contrary, we can fall all we like, we just have to fall here.”

He pointed to a large blue foam mat that was propped up against a wall.

“Actually, that will be an order.”

She removed her socks and shoes while he maneuvered the foam mat into place, which she appreciated.

“I’m going to lose the pants as well, they’re too slippery for climbing.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. Go into one of the locker rooms and find a pair of gym shorts.”

“What if they don’t match my top?”

“Come on, off you go. We don’t have all day, and you’ve already wasted half of it with your ballet talk.”

She ran. And was happy.