reported that Emil Bentsen has probably been dead for a week. The murderer could already be back in Göteborg or wherever it is that he lives.”
“So this victim was killed at the same time as that girl, Isabell?”
“Yes. The murders are connected. Jonny and I have to stay here another night.”
“Why? Can’t the Danes report to us as to what their investigation turns up?”
“I found a business card on Emil Bentsen’s bulletin board in his bedroom. It was hanging pinned under another piece of paper and only one corner was sticking out. But I recognized the corner. It was Marcus Tosscander’s business card. You know, the one that has Tosca’s Design on it.”
She could hear Andersson gasping for breath. Irene worried that he was going to have a heart attack but he sounded relatively normal and collected by the time he spoke again.
“OK. Look for more connections to Marcus today. But you’re coming home tomorrow! This is getting expensive. We can’t pay for two police officers to stay in Copenhagen. . . .”
He stopped himself and Irene realized that a thought had struck him.
“Was Jonny with you last night when you found Bentsen’s son?”
“No.”
“Where was he?”
Irene hesitated about telling the truth, which was He was sitting and drinking with his Danish colleague Jens Metz. She decided not to.
“No idea. I was with Beate Bentsen. She was worried because Emil hadn’t been in touch for so long and I agreed to go with her to his apart—”
The superintendent interrupted her. “So Jonny wasn’t there when you discovered the murder. What excuse does he have for not working?”
Irene chickened out again. “Don’t know.”
“I’ll call his room and ask. And Irene . . . be careful.”
“Of course. I’ll call tonight.”
A RED-FACED and hungover Jonny Blom entered the breakfast room when Irene had almost finished eating. He sank down in the chair across from her and sighed. “Andersson called. He was in a horrible mood. Why was he jabbering about my not being with you last night? What corpse was he ranting about?”
“Go and get some food and I’ll tell you.”
In a pedagogic tone, Irene explained what had happened during the night.
When he heard that they had found Emil’s body and in what condition, Jonny sat up straight in his chair and seemed completely sober. The look he gave Irene was full of doubt.
“Is it true? Beate Bentsen’s son?”
Irene nodded.
“That’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever heard! How’s she holding up?”
“She had to be taken to the hospital. Had a complete breakdown. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The killer cut away his penis, one chest muscle, and one buttock.”
Jonny looked at the remainder of his ham sandwich with distaste. He set it aside on his plate. “What a sick bastard!”
For once, the two of them were in agreement.
“I’ve booked us for one more night. We can keep the rooms we have and, Jonny . . .” She leaned forward over the table and said seriously, “. . . I would be very grateful if you could stay sober this last day. Andersson was right when he said that the murderer is working close to me. And you’re close to me. For your own safety, you should—”
Jonny’s face turned red, and he got up so quickly that he knocked over his half-full cup of coffee. “You’re no damn chief or boss over me! You have no say in what I do!”
Furious, he stormed out of the breakfast room. Irene sighed loudly. It looked as though it was going to be yet another day of schnapps drinking.
JUST AS Irene had thought the night before, it really was beautiful when the sun shone in through the multicolored glass windows in the stairwell. But she couldn’t enjoy the play of colors on the walls when she and her three male colleagues stepped out of the elevator and walked up to the door of Emil’s apartment. Jonny looked at the blue ceramic sign in surprise and bent over in order to check out the pigs. He mumbled something but he didn’t comment out loud.
He had ignored Irene on the car ride over to Emil’s apartment. Her appeal for restraint with respect to alcohol had not gone over well.
When they inspected the crime scene during the night, Irene had realized that the other door on the landing belonged to the rental portion of Emil’s apartment. It was made up of two large rooms with a communal kitchen, hall, and bathroom. Neither of the rooms seemed to be rented currently. A large