Isabell Lind. When I left Beate Bentsen at the restaurant, it was eight thirty. Emil came in just after that. He couldn’t have known, then, until eight thirty. I saw him here with you around ten o’clock. At about the same time, a man named Simon Steiner called Scandinavian Models and requested Isabell Lind be sent to the Hotel Aurora, a stone’s throw from your store. Who would Emil have had time to tell that I was looking for Isabell?”
A loaded silence ensued. Finally, Tom answered, “He must have called the killer from his cell phone. Can’t you trace calls from cell phones as well?”
“I don’t know if it’s possible at this point. I don’t even know if they found his cell phone. Do you have his number?”
Tom shook his head. “No.”
A thought struck Irene. “Did Emil have your number?”
“No.”
“Did Marcus?” A hint of a smile could be seen in one of the corners of Tom’s mouth, when he answered. “Of course.”
“And you gave it to me.”
Tom raised his massive head and looked her straight in the eye. “I trust you,” he said.
An unspoken question lingered above their heads: did she trust him? Irene looked at the massive figure in front of her, seated on the edge of the bed. He had known both Marcus and Emil. As a police officer, this fact should cause her to be on her guard. He was a grotesque figure in the eyes of many people: frightening and at the same time inviting ridicule. But Irene had felt his sincere grief over Marcus’s murder. She had also seen his lust for vengeance and realized that he was dangerous. He had meant what he’d said when he’d asked her to catch Marcus’s killer.
“I trust you, too. Without you we wouldn’t have identified Marcus as quickly, and you have always answered my . . . close questions truthfully.”
Tom hid his smile when he heard Irene search for the English word for “intrusive”; it became instead “close questions.” Irene understood English much better than she spoke it. He knew what she meant and he hadn’t corrected her. He hadn’t done that a single time during their sometimes stumbling conversations.
“I’m doing everything I can to help you,” he said.
Irene looked at the clock and saw that it was high time she went on her way.
“Can you call me a cab?”
“Sure.”
Tom reached for the telephone on the nightstand and pushed a speed-dial button. He instantly got an answer and ordered the car to the street behind the back lot.
He rose from the bed in a cumbersome fashion and went to the door that led to the stairwell. Before he opened it, he turned toward Irene and said, “We’ll keep in touch, like before. But be on your guard. Keep a good lookout.”
“The same goes for you.”
Tom nodded. “I understand.”
She called Scandinavian Models from the taxi. Petra didn’t answer. Instead, a hoarse, sexy voice introduced herself in Danish as Heidi. Irene explained who she was and asked for Petra but was told that she was unavailable. Irene quickly decided to take a chance. In an official, neutral tone she said, “Petra told me what time Jens Metz arrived on Wednesday the nineteenth. But I happened to write it down sloppily and I can’t see if it says eleven thirty or eleven forty.”
Irene could hear Heidi flipping through the logbook. Her smoky, dark voice said, “Eleven thirty.”
Irene was overjoyed. But her voice didn’t reveal a thing when she thanked Heidi for her help.
Irene saw Peter Møller outside the entrance to the church before he saw her. He was standing on the top step next to the entrance, peering out at the people passing by. She knew that she was late and she quickened her steps. Peter caught sight of her and raised his hand to wave. Without haste, he sauntered down the steps toward her.
“Sorry, Peter. I went into a store and forgot the time.”
She smiled apologetically and tried to look female and scatterbrained. Peter nodded, but she felt him subject her to careful scrutiny. Without wasting unnecessary words, he piloted her over to the parked BMW. As usual, he held open the passenger-side door for her.
He slid smoothly into the heavy stream of traffic.
“Did you find out anything new?” he asked.
“I couldn’t get Petra. She wasn’t there. But I got confirmation for something I had been wondering about.”
She explained that she had been outside Scandinavian Models at about the same time Isabell was murdered and that she had seen a