‘I told you, it was several years ago.’

‘I know, I know, but that kind of gossip has quite a life span. Affairs in a small town like Gilleleje, especially one that involves a famous writer, aren’t easily forgotten.’

‘Am I a suspect?’

Verner shook his head. ‘No, not yet.’

‘Not yet!’

‘We’re going to have to tell them about the book.’

‘Are you sure? It was you who said we shouldn’t.’

Verner heaved a sigh. ‘It’s no use,’ he said. ‘Once the book is published … when is it again?’

‘In two days,’ I replied.

‘In two days,’ he repeated and looked tired. ‘Then we could be faced with an even bigger problem.’

I raised my wine glass and studied him as I drank. His smile had vanished and his small dark eyes were focused on the plate in front of him, but he didn’t eat. He just sat there, staring at his steak.

In the Red Zone would be published on Friday, the first day of the book fair. It was all arranged. Interviews and talks had been scheduled, posters printed and stacks of books would be on display. If the police decided to stop the book, it would have serious economic consequences for my publishers and for me.

‘It doesn’t look good,’ Verner said, looking up. ‘If you had been upfront about your relationship, I could have told the Murder Squad straightaway. Now it’ll seem as if we’re hiding something.’

‘What have we got to hide?’ I protested. ‘How could we possibly know how much Mona’s murder resembles the one in the book? Very few details have been made public. For example, I haven’t read anything about the diving gear or the marble bust.’

‘Of course not,’ Verner snapped. ‘It’s standard procedure to withhold that kind of information while the investigation is under way. The problem is I think I’ve drawn attention to myself by my considerable interest in the case.’

‘That doesn’t make us murderers,’ I declared.

Verner scrutinized me. ‘Well, at least I’ve got an alibi. I was in a bar with some colleagues. Police officers.’ He spoke the last word in syllables.

‘What are you saying?’ I asked, a little too loud, unable to control my temper. Several guests stared. As we didn’t say anything, but merely glared at each other, they turned their attention back to their food. Verner didn’t reply.

‘There is something else,’ I whispered.

‘Now what?’ Verner asked. ‘More secrets?’

I handed him the envelope.

‘This was waiting for me at reception when I checked in.’

Verner pulled the book out of the envelope and studied it. I watched his reaction. If he had something to do with it, I was sure I would be able to tell by his face, but he didn’t move a muscle. He flicked through the book and found the photo. When he recognized the woman, he dropped the book as if he had burned his fingers.

He stared at me. ‘What the hell is this?’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied.

‘Are you taking the piss, Frank?’

‘This isn’t a joke,’ I replied. ‘Someone left this at reception yesterday afternoon. I hadn’t even checked in by then.’ I paused, but when Verner didn’t say anything, I continued. ‘I think you’re right, this is more than just an angry boyfriend.’

‘Of course I’m right … but … how the hell did the killer get hold of the book when it hasn’t even been published?’

Though I had been staring at the book for several hours, this question had never occurred to me. If it wasn’t a rejected lover and the book wasn’t Mona’s, that made it almost impossible to answer. Unless … my heart started pounding and I had to drink some wine before I could tell Verner about my mental reckoning of the free copies and the fact that I was one short. I stressed that I could be wrong. Perhaps my publishers had made an error, but the possibility existed, the possibility that the murderer had broken into my home, and that scared me.

Verner was unimpressed. ‘What about the picture?’ he asked. ‘Is that one of yours, too?’

I shook my head.

‘Are you absolutely sure, Frank?’

A tinge of mistrust had crept into his voice, possibly out of habit, a role he slipped into when he sat in front of the pushers he questioned every day. I gritted my teeth and made an effort to keep my voice down.

‘I’m telling you I’ve got nothing to do with this. Do you really think I would commit a murder copied straight from my own book? And if I had, wouldn’t I have made sure to have an alibi? I wasn’t emotionally involved with Mona Weis any longer. She was history. Besides, I don’t know how to sail and my knowledge of diving is purely theoretical.’

Verner looked as if he was briefly enjoying himself, which irritated me even more.

‘Take it easy, Frank,’ he said and held up his hands. ‘I know you couldn’t have done it. Yes, you’ve a sick and twisted mind when it comes to inventing these things, but you haven’t got the guts to carry them out.’ He laughed. ‘You’re far too weak.’

Something inside me was angered by his verdict. Who did he think he was? Why was I letting myself be talked down to by a meathead with paedophile tendencies? I wanted to hit him. That would teach him how weak I was. I should have done so a long time ago, the moment I first learned about his assault on Line. Beaten the crap out of him. Wiped that pathetic smile off his face. It might have made a difference. Perhaps I could have avoided the wounded look Line gave me when she finally found out I was meeting him in secret.

Greater than my anger, however, was my frustrating realization that I needed him.

My hands were trembling slightly. I grabbed my glass and downed its contents. With my other hand, I took the bottle and refilled my glass. Across the table, Verner was calmly drinking his beer. He placed his knife and fork together to indicate he had finished, though half his steak was left.

‘Shit,’ he said, exhaling heavily. ‘Now how do I explain my involvement?’ He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I think it’s best if I contact the Murder Squad right away.’

All I could do was nod.

‘I’ll take this,’ he said, rapping the book with his knuckles. He stood up. ‘How long are you in town?’

‘I’m going back on Monday.’

‘They’ll want a word with you,’ he said.

I nodded. I think we both knew this would be the last time we saw each other.

‘Take care of yourself, Frank,’ he said as he left.

I didn’t reply, but pushed the rest of my food away and drank the wine while I wondered when they would come for me. Tonight? No matter when it was, it would be inconvenient.

When the bottle was empty, I got up and left the restaurant. As I staggered towards the lift I became aware of how much alcohol I had consumed. It took for ever before the lift arrived and when the doors opened I practically tumbled inside, nearly crashing into a young woman in a short skirt and a puffer jacket.

‘Watch where you’re going, idiot,’ she said in a broad Copenhagen accent. She shoved me out of the way with surprising strength.

I started to apologize, but she had already left. The scent of her perfume lingered in the lift, a cheap smell of lilac. It was suffocating to be trapped with it during the ride up to the fifth floor.

My conversation with Verner churned inside my head. I was angry, but also relieved.

It was in his hands now.

I had told him what I knew and all I had to do was to wait.

Вы читаете Death Sentence
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату