ness to this is a demented eighty-six-year-old who even forgot that
she had a great-grandson.” He looked out the window at all the green 49
Maria C. Poets
surrounding him. “Just now, I had a nice conversation with the forest ranger. Can you imagine having the forest as your workplace and being required to live there? An old forestry lodge as your official residence, in theory at least—how sweet is that?”
“Is it envy I hear? I haven’t seen this side of you.” Something rus-
tled on the line. Lina was probably eating a sandwich out of a paper bag. “But I’m sure you didn’t call to wax lyrical about your new dream job or to feel sorry about the great-grandchildren of demented ladies.”
Max laughed. How well she knew him. “Right you are. I wanted
to ask whether you’d come with me tomorrow morning to pay Frank
Jensen a visit. His neighbor, the aforementioned demented lady, said that he’s constantly drunk these days. Under the circumstances, we
might find him home early tomorrow.”
“How early?” Lina made no effort to hide her suspicion.
“Around eleven?”
“That’s reasonable.”
“Good, then. I’ll pick you up.”
50
Chapter 6
The duplex in the small side street didn’t look any friendlier today than it had yesterday. At least there was sunshine yesterday. Now the sky was overcast and a cold wind was blowing. Lina was in an altogether different mood, too. Contrary to yesterday, she felt almost perfect today. She had set the alarm clock for nine, taken a long shower, run out for fresh rolls, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. Downing two cups of coffee had steeled her against anything the world might throw at her.
They were standing at the door and Max rang the bell. No response.
He rang again and, since nothing stirred, lifted his hand to knock. He had hardly touched the wood when the door swung inward, squeaking
quietly. It hadn’t been shut all the way.
Max and Lina looked at each other, not sure what to do. Then they
nodded almost simultaneously and Max pushed the door completely
open.
“Hello?” he shouted. “Herr Jensen, are you home?”
Both stood and listened. Nothing. A musty, biting odor drifted
toward them from inside the house. Max slowly took one step forward
and Lina followed.
Maria C. Poets
They almost stumbled over a pile of shoes in the hallway. One pair
of dress shoes with leather soles looked quite good even though they were covered with a thin layer of dust; a couple of sneakers and a pair of heavy hiking boots, with dried mud on the soles. Frank Jensen wore size 44, which fit perfectly with tracks at the crime scene.
The living room was completely empty: no sofa, no shelves, and
no wall unit. A lonely chair and an old TV on the floor. Next to the kitchen was a small home office. A computer sat on a table, which was cluttered with a layer of notes and letters, some of which had slid to the ground. Lina recognized the district court logo on one of the letters and the heading “Eviction Notice.” The computer keyboard was dusty
and seemed not to have been used for some time. From the workplace
one had a beautiful view of the little garden with old trees and a few low-maintenance bushes. The lawn hadn’t been mowed for weeks and
not a single flower was in sight. Lina looked away.
The camping table in the kitchen was strewn with breadcrumbs
and dirty dishes. A real kitchen table had probably stood there once, with room for a family of four. Now only this rickety substitute and a stool were here. The counters were stained.
Max loudly called Frank Jensen’s name again. They listened but still heard nothing. Max motioned to the narrow stairs leading to the upper floor. The uppermost step lay in darkness, but when Max switched on
the light, the upstairs hallway was dimly lit by a 40-watt lightbulb. It was quiet; only muffled traffic noise was audible. There was a low hum that Lina hadn’t noticed before. Max went up slowly and when he
was upstairs, Lina followed. The humming became louder. Lina was
halfway up the stairs when the house suddenly went pitch-black. She
managed to stifle a cry before realizing that the bulb must have burned out. Max exhaled audibly. Then he groped for one of the closed doors and pushed it open. Pallid daylight lit the hallway and Lina climbed the rest of the steps.
52
Dead Woods
The door Max had pushed open led to what had been a child’s
room. The wallpaper showed animals and on the floor was a play rug