a quarter to twelve. If they hurried up and ate, Irene would have time for a visit to Tom Tanaka’s before three. She became insistent that they eat an early lunch.
They walked to Gråbrødretorv and the small rustic pub Peder Oxe, known for its meat dishes and generous glasses of wine. All of them chose tender ox rolls in a divine cream sauce, black currant jelly, and a large helping of early spring greens. Everyone had beer. To Jonny’s disappointment, he was the only one who wanted to have a schnapps. To save himself embarrassment he didn’t order it, but his expression was that of a sad puppy who had been tricked.
Irene excused herself before coffee and slipped off to the ladies’ room. She locked herself in the bathroom and took out her cell phone, then quickly brought up Tom’s number on the cell phone display and made the call.
“Tom speaking.”
“Irene Huss here. We need to meet immediately.”
“Has something happened?”
“Yes, I need to speak with you.”
“Are you able to, even with your colleague around?”
“Yes. If we can meet in half an hour.”
“I can make it in an hour. OK?”
“No. There won’t be enough time. It’s important! Otherwise I wouldn’t have called you!”
He must have heard the desperation in her voice.
“OK. I have company now. Come in half an hour. Call when you’re outside the door and I’ll come down and open it for you.”
Irene pulled a comb through her short hairdo and ruffled it a bit. To her surprise, she had started liking her short hairdo. For the sake of appearances, she put on some more lipstick. She smiled at her own reflection for practice. It was important that she look casual while she was serving up a white lie to her colleagues.
She dropped down next to her steaming cup of coffee and said, “I think that I’m going to try and speak with the girls at Scandinavian Models again. I’d especially like to talk to Petra one more time. Now that the initial shock is over, she might remember more from the night Isabell disappeared.”
“Do you think it will add anything? We have already questioned the girls several times,” Peter objected.
“I know, but I want to make one last attempt.”
Peter shrugged to show what he thought of the idea. To Irene’s relief, the three men started talking about soccer. She sat quietly and pretended not to know anything about the group matches for the European Championship.
When she had finished her last cup of coffee, she smiled apologetically and said, “I think I’ll head out. So long.”
“I’ll pick you up next to the entrance to Vor Frue Kirke at 2:45,” said Peter.
“Fine.”
Irene faintly recalled that this meeting place was in the immediate neighborhood. She realized that it was going to be difficult to get to Vesterbro and back in time. She would have to take a taxi.
Irene called Tom from the taxi. The driver turned in on Helgolandsgade and Irene paid. Without hurrying, she went through the entrance door. Even though it was broad daylight, she looked around the courtyard carefully. The run-in with the skinheads was still fresh in her mind.
Tom was already standing at the window. He opened the door, welcomed her, and shuffled up the stairs. Irene shivered when she heard his strained breathing. He sounded like a mountain climber without his oxygen at the top of Mount Everest. Tom was dressed in a silver-colored satin outfit for the day and he had wound small silver threads around his knots of hair.
With a chivalrous gesture he held open the door to his bedroom and invited Irene to step in. The room looked just the same. If Tom had been entertaining someone there, he had had enough time to put things in order again. When he started to walk toward the door that led to the corridor, Irene said, “Tom. Could we please stay here in the bedroom?”
Tom raised his eyebrows ironically. “In the bedroom?”
When he saw the serious look on Irene’s face he hurried to add, “Sorry. Bad joke.”
“It’s OK. Why don’t you sit on the bed?”
Without arguing, Tom lowered himself heavily onto the edge of the bed.
“Tom. Prepare yourself for horrible news. Emil Bentsen was found dead in his apartment last night. Murdered. Based on the evidence so far, he was killed a week ago. His body carries the signature of our killer. The signature of Marcus and Isabell’s killer.”
She watched for Tom’s reaction. At first nothing happened; he sat immobile, like a massive gray stone.