“What about the crescent-shaped carpus, you moron, the orientation of the pubic bone, and the colossal ifs and buts, which you know ad nauseam, and which allow you—in contrast to those idiots from Science and Nature—to weed out these crazy articles about kinship? When did you turn into someone who shapes his scientific views to fit a trend? Have you lost your mind?”
Jack gave Clive a neutral look.
“I don’t believe in you anymore,” Jack said eventually. “True, the other side still have certain problems explaining the reduction of the hand, but we’re talking about two hundred and eighty-six apomorphies, Clive, two hundred and eighty-six! A feathered Tyrannosaurus. What do you want? God to pop down from heaven and explain how it’s all connected before you’re satisfied? I’ve supported you professionally for years. I’ve done much for you. Much more than I should. Because you’re… my friend. But it has to stop now. A feathered Tyrannosaurus, Clive. Scientific Today is a scientific journal.”
“How do you know it’s a Tyrannosaurus?” Clive sneered. “How do you know it’s feathered? You want to put feathers on an animal that couldn’t fly? You know as well as I do that the development of feathers is primarily and inextricably linked with the evolution of flight and didn’t serve as insulation until later. And you also know Tyrannosaurus didn’t fly. You haven’t seen the creature. I haven’t seen it, either. The structures may look like feathers, but they’re likely to be the residual of a dorsal skin fold; they’re not precursors of genuine feathers. That should be self-evident! You’re publishing conjecture, it’s unscientific! Have you forgotten you should never, ever, base your conclusions on what others have seen?”
“No, I haven’t,” Jack replied, “and when it’s your turn to describe the animal, Scientific Today will be delighted to publish a properly researched article that may conclude that the discovery in Montana isn’t a Tyrannosaurus, and that the skin structure isn’t feathers. But not until your description is available and has been accepted. It’s never been the intention of science to claim to have found the absolute truth, Clive, but to put forward the most likely hypotheses, and my job,” Jack pointed to himself, “is to publish those papers that reflect the more probable ones, and right now, they aren’t coming from you.”
“Get out,” Clive said icily. He pointed to the door. Jack got up.
“You shouldn’t mix science and friendship,” Jack said calmly.
“Get out,” Clive repeated.
Jack left. Shortly afterward, Clive heard the engine of Jack’s car start.
Kay came into his study.
“Why did Jack leave? What happened?” Her eyes were bulging.
Clive said nothing. He was shaking all over. Jack was a traitor.
“Did you two fight?” she asked. “Clive, what did you say to him?”
Kay’s mouth moved. Say something for God’s sake, her lips mouthed, but there was no sound. Kay put her open, baffled face up to his; like a poker, she stoked the embers and the fire flared up. He struck her. The angle was unfortunate and the impact of his wedding ring made her cheek swell up. Horrified, she touched her face and stared at him. Then she left.
Clive stayed in his study and tried to calm himself down. He reread some of his old articles, and a few hours later he felt better. He went through the house to find Kay. It was dark and quiet. The dishwasher was beeping, and the door to the garden was ajar but Kay wasn’t in the kitchen or in the garden. He went upstairs to the master bedroom. The door was locked. Outside the bedroom door, to the right, lay a comforter and his pillow. Clive knocked on the door, but there was no reply. He started hammering on it.
“Open the door,” he commanded.
There was no sound from inside. Clive went downstairs and watched television. Close to midnight, he fell asleep on the sofa.
Chapter 5
She was unmoved by Professor Helland’s death. Monday evening, as Anna climbed the stairs to her apartment, she was ashamed of her reaction. The apartment was empty and cold, so she turned up the heat and closed the door to Lily’s room. She hated Lily not being there, and without a child in the bed the small colorful comforter seemed creepy. She slumped on the sofa, where she stayed for a long time staring into space. At two o’clock she went to bed, but though she was exhausted she couldn’t fall asleep. She tried thinking about Helland’s wife, who had lost her husband, their daughter, who had lost her father, and about the times Helland had been kind to her. But it was no use. Her heart remained untouched.
Helland had let her down, indirectly belittling her academic work through his lack of engagement and had, in every respect, been a useless supervisor. For nearly a year he had let her flounder. She didn’t care that he was dead, and she almost didn’t care how he had died, either. She tossed and turned, kicking off her blankets. Finally, she got up to go to the bathroom.
After the short preliminary interview, they had been driven to Bellahøj police station in separate cars. Anna with Professor Ewald, Johannes with Professor Jørgensen. Professor Ewald dissolved into tears, her hands were shaking and she kept blowing her nose and fidgeting with a soggy tissue.
Somewhere along the way, Anna snapped: “What are you crying for? You couldn’t stand Helland.”
Professor Ewald looked mortified.
“We worked together for twenty-five years. Lars Helland was a good colleague,” she wailed.
Anna glared at the window, knowing full well that the two officers in the front were watching everything that was going on in the back. Every word, every breath, every revelation. She was also well aware that she wasn’t coming across as terribly sympathetic.
At the station they were interviewed again by the World’s Most Irritating Detective. He appeared to have eaten beets for lunch; Anna noticed a purple stain at the corner of his mouth when it was her turn. She was asked the same questions as before, and she gave the same answers. At one point when she irritably repeated herself and made it clear that she had already answered this question, Søren Marhauge raised his eyebrow a fraction and said: “Please understand that we need to do our job properly. An apparently fit and healthy man has been found dead in his office with his tongue sliced off. Imagine he was your husband or your father. I’m sure you would want us to be extra thorough, wouldn’t you?” His voice was mild but firm, and he held her gaze a little too long. Anna looked away. When she had read through and signed her statement, she was free to go.
It was three o’clock that afternoon when she caught the bus back to the university. She was thinking about Dr. Tybjerg. She was due to meet him in an hour. Did he already know what had happened? Anna had no idea how quickly the news would reach the Natural History Museum, but the parking lot had been teeming with police cars, so it was likely to be soon. Then it struck her that she might be the one who told him. Dr. Tybjerg was bound to be deep inside the collection and wouldn’t have spoken to anyone. A strange sense of dread filled her. She turned her head and looked out the window. The sky was still heavy and gray. Then another thought occurred to her: what if her dissertation defense was canceled? She couldn’t bear to wait any longer. The whole situation was already a nightmare, but if her defense was postponed for weeks, until after Christmas even, she would get seriously depressed and Lily would definitely start calling Cecilie “mom.” Last Friday, Anna had handed in four copies of her dissertation; one for Helland, which was now lying, blood-smeared, in a sealed evidence bag somewhere at the police station, one for Dr. Tybjerg, one for the unknown external examiner from the University of Århus, and one for the University Library for future students to use. Surely the library’s copy could be given to Helland’s replacement? Her defense was in two weeks, so someone already familiar with the subject should be able to gain sufficient understanding of the argument to be able to examine her. How about Johan Fjeldberg? Professor Fjeldberg was a highly respected ornithologist at the Natural History Museum, and she knew that he had worked with Dr. Tybjerg before. When she met with Dr. Tybjerg, she would make him promise that her dissertation defense would go ahead.