Søren nodded and got into his car. He sat there for a while, trying to calm down.
Søren drove down Falkoner Allé toward Nørrebro with a renewed sense of purpose. After crossing Ågade, he turned right and parked behind Anna’s block. He walked around to the front door and rang the bell. For a long time. No reply. He rang the next-door neighbor. Time passed, then he heard an elderly voice.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Snedker?” Søren said, reading the name next to the bell. “I’m a police officer. Please will you let me in?”
He heard a noise and thought she was opening the door, but she appeared to have had second thoughts because she replied: “And why would I believe you?”
Søren was taken aback. “Er, no why would you?” he said. Now what? The intercom hissed again.
“If you’re the chap who has been waiting for Anna,” the old voice snapped, “then I suggest you run back home to your mommy. We’re not interested in whatever garbage you’re peddling, or whatever it is you want. Be off with you.” She hung up and Søren was left standing there. He took a few steps back and looked up at the building. On the fourth floor, opposite where Anna’s apartment had to be located, he saw an old lady in the window. She was watching him and when he looked back at her, she waved. He pressed the bell again.
“I’ve never seen you before,” the old lady said when she answered. “And don’t think I’m stupid enough to let in a stranger just because he claims to be a police officer.”
“Mrs. Snedker,” Søren said with all the authority he could muster, “I’m going to give you a telephone number and you’ll call directory enquiries and find out whose it is. You’ll be told that it’s the duty officer at Bellahøj police station. Then you wait two minutes before you call the duty officer and ask him if he thinks it’s a good idea to let in a man who calls himself Søren Marhauge who claims to be a policeman, and if he says yes, you let me in, all right? I’ll call them right now and give them my location. Do you follow?”
“Do you think I was born yesterday?” she said cheekily. “I promise you, sir, that I wasn’t. I was born long before you were even a twinkle in your mother’s eye.”
Søren smiled. “Right, we have a deal, then.”
She hung up. Søren called the duty officer and four minutes later, he had a call back to say his identity had been confirmed. A Maggie Snedker, born February 26, 1919, had just called. She had been highly suspicious, but they had reached an agreement in the end. The duty officer sounded amused. The intercom crackled and Søren was buzzed into the stairwell.
Mrs. Snedker was waiting on the landing. Her arms were folded across her chest and she looked fierce, but Søren detected an element of teasing in the corner of her eyes.
“You’re a long way up, Mrs. Snedker,” he panted, holding out his badge.
“You’re right. The air up here is too thin for weaklings like you.” She scrutinized his badge. “What do you want?”
“I urgently need to get ahold of your neighbor, Anna Bella Nor, and she won’t open her door or answer her telephone.”
“Now why wouldn’t Anna open her door to a nice cop such as yourself?” the old lady asked. She was elegantly dressed and had long red nails. He couldn’t believe she was over eighty. Her hair was thick, curly, and very soft, and Søren wondered if it might be a wig. Elvira’s hair had turned silky and fine when she reached her early sixties, and she had had it cut quite short.
“What’s this about?” Mrs. Snedker asked. “That poor girl has suffered enough. First there’s that cad who abandons her and the baby. I’ve no time for him. Lily hadn’t even turned one. What a charlatan. Anna’s a good girl, she really is. But she’s unhappy. And when you’re very sad, you put on a brave face. She doesn’t fool me, though. So, what do you want?” The old lady’s eyes were as piercing as a nail gun.
“I’m afraid I can’t go into details, but it’s nothing very serious,” he assured her. “You wouldn’t have a spare key?” he tried.
“Of course I have, but I’m certainly not giving it to you.” Mrs. Snedker gave him a stern look; she measured him from head to foot, and he had a strong suspicion she was checking him out.
“Why don’t you join me for a drop of something?” she offered, looking at her watch. “It’s four o’clock and Anna is probably picking up her little munchkin from nursery school, such a cute girl. Can you believe it? Imagine deserting a little thing like that? Anna may not be the easiest woman in the world to live with, but then again, no one ever said living together was meant to be easy, eh? And what about the child? It’s been nearly two years since she last saw her father.” Mrs. Snedker leaned forward as she whispered the last sentence. Søren picked up the scent of a dusty, heavy perfume. Mrs. Snedker turned resolutely on her heel and disappeared inside her apartment.
“Er…” Søren began, but she ignored him. He followed her into a dark, rustic-style hallway and into her living room, the likes of which he had never seen. The floor was covered with thick-piled rugs, and there was no space left on the walls. Pictures in heavy gilded frames, plates and photographs, and on the end wall, broken only by the balcony door, there were books from floor to ceiling. A gramophone, which had to be at least fifty years old, sat in between the books. Mrs. Snedker was standing by a low drinks table, pouring a rust-colored liquid into two glasses.
“Ah, there you are.” She sounded delighted.
“I don’t drink while I’m on duty,” Søren said, not very convincingly.
“Nonsense,” she said.
Søren studied an old gun mounted on the wall. The metal was freshly polished and the woodwork was in good condition, but the weapon looked hundreds of years old.
“It used to belong to Count Griffenfeld,” Mrs. Snedker explained. She had followed his eyes. “Stunning example, isn’t it? Right, down the hatch.” She handed him a glass, knocked back her drink and frowned when Søren swallowed only half of his. She went to the window and looked out.
“Oh, look, there they are,” she said, triumphantly. Søren joined her. She was right. A figure, holding a small child by the hand, had just stepped out of a low, black wooden building Mrs. Snedker informed him was Lily’s nursery school. Anna was dragging the child, who was wearing a snowsuit.
“Just time for a little more Dutch courage, my friend. Now what’s that about?” She looked outraged at Søren’s half-full glass. He put it down on the table.
“Listen,” he said. “What did you mean when you said someone had been waiting for Anna?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Snedker said. “I wouldn’t want to force you.” She emptied Søren’s glass. “Well, you see. Twice this week, a man waited for Anna on the landing. Someone she doesn’t know. Or, at any rate, she can’t figure out who it might have been.”
“When exactly was he waiting for her?”
“When? When?” she snapped. “A couple of days ago. I no longer keep track of insignificant events. Two long days ago.” She refilled their glasses, and Søren seriously considered whether alcohol might not be good for you after all. The old lady appeared strong and fearless.
“Please try to remember,” Søren asked. “Was it yesterday? Was it last week?”