Three, Four...Better Lock Your Door (5 page)

"Why do you hate me so much?" she asked.

She was pulling the pity-card. It was my own fault that she had become so spoiled. When I was still married to her father he had spoiled her a lot and I had always been the bad guy, but once we split up and I had to move her far away I felt so bad for her that I gave her anything she set her heart on. Especially after her dad decided he couldn't see her any longer. I felt sick to my stomach because I knew she was hurting inside, missing him badly and not understanding why he didn't want to see her. But he was sick. “Daddy is really sick and needs to go away to get well,” I told her.

"Well, I don't hate you," I said to Julie. "I love you very much, but you can't make me pay for an entire year of gymnastics and then bail on it a month later. I'll lose all the money I have already paid."

"It's always about the money with you," she mumbled.

"Well money is important. I don't want you thinking that you can just throw money around as you please. I work hard to earn it."

"Tobias is doing it," she said. "His dad said he can start next week."

"Tobias is learning how to ride horses?" I asked surprised. Now I understood how the idea had suddenly appeared in her head and why I hadn't heard anything about this before.

"I bet Tobias' dad hasn't just paid for a whole year of gymnastics as well."

Now Julie was crying. "I can never do anything; you never let me do anything that I want to do. I already told you that I don't want to do gymnastics anymore," she exclaimed loudly.

I opened my mouth to talk when I was suddenly interrupted by Dad. "You know what sweetie-pie?" he asked.

"No," she sniffed.

"I'll pay for those riding-lessons. I can take you there and bring you back. Now wasn't that a good solution?"

I almost choked in my coffee while Julie started smiling widely. "No, Dad. You can't do that. I just said no," I argued not believing how he could be so insensitive to me.

Julie's smile froze. She stared at me with contempt. "You can't do that! If grand-dad wants to give me the riding lessons then you can't just take them back."

"I can and I will," I said.

Julie stood up and pushed her chair backwards. "I hate you!" she yelled and ran up the stairs.

I exhaled and looked at Dad. He shook his head.

"What?" I said. "I have to stand my ground with her. She is getting way too spoiled around here. You can't undermine my authority like that when I have just said no to her. It's not fair to me, Dad. I'm trying to discipline her and teach her the value of money. If she starts riding lessons this month, she will want something else next month."

"I know what you're trying to do," he said. "But for God's sake, she misses her dad like crazy, school is tough on her, the girls are picking on her both in school and at gymnastics, she doesn't have much that makes her happy except Tobias. She wants to start riding lessons to be with him more.  So she'll know she at least has one friend."

I swallowed hard trying to oppress the feeling of guilt growing inside of me. "How come I didn't know this? Why isn't she telling me that herself?"

"Because she is afraid you'll think there is something wrong with her. She wants to be perfect for you. She wants to be like you. Strong and independent. She wants you to be proud of her and she thinks you won't be if she is not doing well in school and doing well at her age means being popular and having lots of friends."

"So she's embarrassed because the other girls are nasty to her?" I asked.

Dad nodded. "I think so."

I smiled and stared at my father standing in front of me in Mom's old apron and with a spatula in his hand.

"How did you become so smart?" I asked.

"I had two daughters of my own, remember?"

"Vaguely."

I drove a very mute Julie to school and then headed to the office where Sune was waiting for me. I waved at Sara and walked towards him.

"We have ten minutes to get to the press conference," he said, looking at his watch. "We can make it if we leave right away."

"Really? Horses?" I asked. "Couldn't you have found something say a little less expensive?"

"I'm sorry," Sune said shrugging. "It was Tobias' idea and I thought it would be great for him to do a sport that involved animals and fresh air."

"I guess it is kind of healthy for them. It's just so annoying. I just paid for an entire year of gymnastics for Julie and now she wants to do this instead."

"Contact them and tell them that Julie changed her mind and say you want a refund," he said. "It's worth a try."

I exhaled. "I guess you're right. I just really hate to give in to her once I have said no to something."

Sune picked up his bag with his camera and many lenses. We started walking. He held the door for me. "I know," he said. "You're too proud."

C
HAPTER 7

T
HE PRESS CONFERENCE
was held in a big conference room at the police station. To my surprise the room was packed. TV cameras were in place, journalists with microphones and notepads were swarming around. I was quite startled that a killing in our little part of the country could attract that kind of attention. But it also meant that my editor would be thrilled because we were first with the story.

With my own paper in my hand I sat in the middle of the crowd and prepared my questions by writing them on my notepad. Sune walked around and took pictures of the scenery of people getting ready and waiting.

"Is this seat taken?" a male voice asked me.

I lifted my head and looked into a pair of very blue eyes.

I shook my head. "I don't think so," I said.

"Then you won't mind me taking it?"

I smiled politely. "Go ahead."

The man sat down next to me while I continued my preparations.

"Hi, I am Christian, by the way," he said and held out his hand. "Christian Lonstedt."

I took it. "Rebekka," I said.

"Ah. Rebekka Franck?" he said and took out a paper. He showed me the front page and my article and Sune's picture of the body bag leaving the scene. He pointed at my picture next to my name. "Yes. I recognize you now. You were first with the story huh?"

I smiled again politely. The guy looked at me with a wide smile showing pearly white teeth. He was annoyingly good-looking. "Very nice to meet you," he said.

"I haven't seen you before, who do you work for?" I asked.

"I'm with the
Express
. I work at the department in Naestved. I cover all of South Zealand."

"What happened to Frederik Hansen?"

"He’s still there. They just expanded the staff," Christian answered.

I nodded as the door opened and the officer from the day before entered followed by four men in uniform. They all sat at the long table equipped with microphones. The officer I had spoken to at the inn was the new head of police in Karrebaeksminde, on the sign in front of him his name Johannes Lindstroem was written in golden letters. He started talking.

"Yesterday this town was a witness to a horrible crime. A woman, Susanne Larsen from Naestved was found killed in her hotel room at Astrupgaard Inn by the cleaning personnel at nine forty-five Thursday morning. The room was booked in her name. She was last seen eating dinner with a man in the restaurant, you should all have a description of the man we're seeking lying on your seat."

There was a murmur while people picked up the piece of paper provided by the police.

"It is not much, as you can tell, but it is the only lead we have so far. There are no surveillance cameras that caught these two together nor are there any records of who he is anywhere. He could be anybody. Still we would appreciate it if you could all mention his description and tell people to contact us if they think they know this guy."

Johannes Lindstroem paused and looked at the crowd. "This case is a precarious matter to us, since the deceased was married to one of our fellow officers from Naestved. They had two children. I am personally determined to hunt this killer down if it is the last thing I'll ever do." He paused again. "Therefore we have decided to work together with Naestved police on this case. It has the highest priority now. Any questions?"

A forest of hands reached towards the ceiling. "Yes, Rebekka Franck. Let's begin with you since you were the first with the story."

"Do you have a murder-weapon?" I said. "Do you know how she was killed?"

"We are still waiting for the forensic-report."

"So you didn't find a weapon in her room or know what kind you are looking for?" I asked again.

"Not yet, no. I don't want to go into details about the modus operandi until we have the report that determines exactly how she died."

"Do the police know what Susanne Larsen was doing at the inn?"

Johannes Lindstroem shook his head. "I am not sure why that's important?"

"If she lives in Naestved only fifteen minutes away from here, why was she spending the night at Astrupgaard?"

Johannes Lindstroem sighed. "I think that goes under privacy of the family."

"But is it something you're investigating? She met with a man and had dinner, could it have been a jealous scorned boyfriend or lover?"

Johannes Lindstroem exhaled. "I think we should move on," he said and pointed at another journalist.

I leaned back in the chair while noting on my pad. I couldn't help escaping the thought that if Susanne Larsen had been at the inn with her secret lover then the most obvious killer would be her own husband, the police officer from Naestved and close friend of Johannes Lindstroem.

I wrote the article about the press-conference as soon as we got back to the office. Sune uploaded the pictures and we picked out a few to send to my editor along with the story. The focus was the woman being the wife of a police officer and how the head of the police in Karrebaeksminde now regarded this case as highest priority and that he was determined to “hunt this killer down even if it was the last thing he ever did” and that he intended to do so with help from Naestved police department. The story came out pretty good and had that human touch to it, that this now was a personal matter for the police.

I pressed the 'send' button and went for coffee in the kitchen. I came back with a piece of marble-cake for both Sune and me. Sara already had her share, I could tell by the empty plate next to her with cake crumbs on it.

Minutes later Jens-Ole was on the phone. "Great piece on the conference. I want you to find the husband," he said. "I want an interview with him about how horrible this last twenty-four hours has been."

I dropped my head. I hated those kinds of interviews. Seeking the poor fellow left behind in his grief and asking him how he felt. It was so low. It was something the Express would do. They would stoop that low because they had no morals or integrity.

"Really?" I asked. "Isn't that a little low for us?"

"Don't start getting ethical on me. If you’re too proud to do real journalism and dig in where it hurts, then I'm sure I can find someone else to do it. Do you agree? I'm sure you do. I want the story in the paper tomorrow."

Then he hung up. I sighed.

"Now what?" asked Sune.

"Jens-Ole wants us to find the husband," I answered.

Sune shrugged. "Then let's do it," he said cheerfully. "Have Sara find him while we drive there."

"I'm already on it," Sara said from behind her desk.

Then Sune put his arm around my shoulder and started humming while we walked. I smiled after a few reluctant steps. Then I hummed along with him.

"See it doesn't hurt that bad to swallow some of that pride every now and then," he said with a grin while he held the door to the car for me.

"I'm driving," I said and grabbed the car keys from his hand with a grin.

Sune shrugged and jumped in the passenger seat. We drove off to the humming sound of "Fly me to the moon" coming from Sune's mouth.

C
HAPTER 8

I
T WAS LATE BEFORE
we got home. Sune and I had spent all day in Naestved talking to Bjarne Larsen, Susanne Larsen's husband who naturally was devastated over losing his wife. He had agreed to give me the interview after fifteen minutes of persuasion from me. Eventually I convinced him that it would make the police's work easier if the public had a face to relate to, someone they felt like they were helping.

Bjarne Larsen had been reluctant but friendly and little by little he opened up and talked about how horrible it had been to have the officers coming to his door and telling him what had happened, that now he knew what it was like to be on the other side, to be the one being told that something bad had happened to your loved one.

I listened carefully to his every word and while Sune took pictures of the husband but not the children as I had instructed him to. I wrote every word Bjarne Larsen said on my note-pad. He told me how wonderful a wife and mother Susanne was, how much she would be missed by him and the kids and what a great nurse she was at the hospital where she had worked for almost twenty years. How devoted she was to her patients. She had known already when she was very young that she wanted to be a nurse and help people. It was like a calling for her.

I nodded along and wrote it all down. It was good stuff and would make an excellent article. By the end of the interview I finally found the courage to ask the one question that had been on my mind for quite a while now.

"What was your wife doing at the inn in Karrebaeksminde?"

Bjarne Larsen's moustache vibrated on his lip.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Was she visiting someone? Why was she at the inn?" I asked again as politely as I could manage.

Bjarne Larsen paused for long time. He dropped his eyes.

"Where did she tell you she was going?" I asked.

The small man in front of me shrank in the couch. "To see her sister in Naksskov," he mumbled.

I nodded. "Sounds like a private matter," I said. "I won't put that in the paper. Don't worry."