Assad nodded again. So that too was in the report.
Carl gave his assistant a professional look, which meant: It’s standard procedure to ask these types of questions multiple times. Let him chew on that for a while.
“I thought that Uffe couldn’t be left at home alone,” he then interjected.
“Oh yes, he could,” she replied, her eyes shining. “Just not late at night.”
At that point Carl wished he was back at his desk in the basement. He’d spent years having to drag information out of people, and by now his arms were feeling very tired. A couple more questions and then they had to be on their way. The Lynggaard case was obviously hopeless. She’d fallen overboard. Things like that happened.
“And it might have been too late if I hadn’t put the envelope where she’d find it,” said the woman.
He saw how her eyes shifted away for a moment. Not toward the little cupcakes. Away. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she died the next day, didn’t she?”
“That wasn’t what you were just thinking about, was it?”
“Of course.”
Seated next to Carl, Assad put his cake down on the table. Strangely enough, he’d also noticed her evasive maneuver.
“You were thinking about something else. I can tell. What did you mean, that it might have been too late?”
“Just what I said. That she died the next day.”
He looked up at the cake-happy host. “Would you mind if I spoke to Helle Andersen in private?”
The man didn’t look pleased, and Helle Andersen didn’t either. She smoothed out her smock, but the damage was done.
“Tell me, Helle,” Carl said, leaning toward her after the antique dealer had left the room. “If you know anything at all that you’ve been keeping to yourself, now is the time to tell me. Do you understand?”
“There wasn’t anything else.”
“Do you have children?”
The corners of her mouth drooped. What did that have to do with the case?
“OK. You opened the envelope, didn’t you?”
She jerked her head back in alarm. “Of course I didn’t.”
“This is perjury, Helle Andersen. Your children are going to have to do without you for a while.”
For a stout country girl, she reacted with extraordinary speed. Her hands flew up to her mouth, her feet shot under the sofa, her entire abdomen was sucked in as she tried to create a safe distance between herself and the dangerous police animal. “I didn’t open it.” The words flew out of her mouth. “I just held it up to the light.”
“What did the letter say?”
Her eyebrows practically overlapped. “All it said was: ‘Have a nice trip to Berlin.’”
“Do you know what she was going to do in Berlin?”
“It was just a fun trip with Uffe. They’d done it a couple of times before.”
“Why was it so important to wish her a nice trip?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who would have known about the trip, Helle? Merete lived a very private life with Uffe, as I understand it.”
She shrugged. “Maybe somebody at the Folketing. I don’t know.”
“Wouldn’t they just send her an e-mail?”
“I really don’t know.” She was obviously feeling pinned down. Maybe she was lying. Maybe she was just sensitive to pressure. “It might have been something from the council,” she ventured. It was another blind alley.
“So the letter said: ‘Have a nice trip to Berlin.’ Anything else?”
“Nothing else. Just that. Really.”
“No signature?”
“No. That was all.”
“And the messenger, what did he look like?”
She hid her face in her hands for a moment. “All I noticed was that he was wearing a really nice overcoat,” she said in a subdued voice.
“You didn’t see anything else? That can’t be right.”
“It’s true. He was taller than me, even though he was standing down on the step. And he was wearing a scarf. It was green. And it covered the lower half of his face. It was raining, so that was probably why. He also had a slight cold, or at least that’s how he sounded.”
“Did he sneeze?”
“No, he just sounded like he had a cold. Sniffled a bit, you know.”
“What about his eyes? Blue or brown?”
“I’m pretty sure they were blue. At least I think so. Maybe they were gray. But I’d recognize them, if I saw them again.”
“How old was he?”
“About my age, I think.”
As if that piece of information would help.
“And how old are you?”
She gave Carl a slightly indignant look. “Not quite thirty-five,” she replied, looking down at the floor.
“What kind of car was he driving?”
“He didn’t come by car, as far as I could tell. At least there wasn’t any car parked outside.”
“You don’t think he
“No, probably not.”
“But you didn’t watch him leave?”
“No. I needed to give Uffe something to eat. He always had lunch while I listened to the news program on the radio.”
They talked about the letter as they drove. Assad didn’t know anything more about it. The police investigation had come to a dead end as far as it was concerned.
“But why the hell was it so important to deliver such an unimportant message? What did it really mean? I could understand it if the message were from a woman friend and the letter was perfumed and came in a little envelope with flowers on it. But not in such an anonymous envelope and with no signature.”
“I think that Helle, she does not know very much,” Assad replied as they turned on to Bj?lkerupvej, which was where Social Services for Stevns municipality was located.
Carl looked over at the buildings. It would have been nice to have a court order in his back pocket before going inside.
“Stay here,” he said to Assad, whose face virtually glowed with satisfaction.
Carl located the director’s office after making a few inquiries.
“Yes, that’s right. Uffe Lynggaard received care from the Home Nursing Group,” she said as Carl put his police badge back in his pocket. “But we’re a bit disorganized at the moment when it comes to archiving former cases. Municipal reforms, you know.”
So the woman seated opposite him knew nothing about the case. He’d have to talk to somebody else. Surely someone in the place had to remember Uffe Lynggaard and his sister. Just a tiny scrap of information could turn out to be valuable. Maybe someone had been to their house numerous times and had noticed something that might give him a lead.
“Could I speak to the person who was responsible for his care back then?”
“I’m afraid she’s retired now.”
“Could you give me her name?”
“No, I’m sorry. Only those of us who work here at City Hall can discuss former cases.”
“But none of the employees know anything about Uffe Lynggaard, is that correct?”
