Lisbeth sent sparks tingling down his spine. The kind of woman who recharged a man’s batteries at a glance. Mature and self-aware, with an astonishing forthright gaze. If Mona’s silly capriciousness turned out to be serious-and he most definitely hoped it wasn’t, even though the way he felt about her at the moment she could kiss a certain part of his anatomy-he knew it would not be the last time he paid a visit to this library.
“We’re a bit short-staffed at the moment due to illness, so we’re all taking turns to lend a hand. I’ve only been assisting here for a month, so you want to show your colleagues you’re not afraid to give it a go.”
He was in no doubt she was able.
“Yes, I do remember the boy you mention. In fact, I know him better than you might think. It’s actually quite odd to see him all the way out here in Brønshøj.”
“You mean you’d seen him before, somewhere else?”
“Yes. Normally I’m deputy head of the Østerbro branch on Dag Hammarskjölds Allé. He’s been coming there every single day for months.”
Carl smiled, partly because of what he’d just been told and partly because of Lisbeth herself, in equal portions. “Excellent. Perhaps you also remember what his name is.”
She shook her head. “He always came at different times each day and immediately sat down in one of the chairs to read, or else he’d go over to the computers. He never borrowed anything, so we never needed to see his ID.”
Carl stood completely still for a moment, trying to gauge what lay behind those candid blue eyes. Was she flirting with him or just surprised by the singularity of the coincidence?
“He seems to be quite a fantastic boy. All of us at the Østerbro branch agreed we’d never seen someone his age so eager to learn. It became a kind of a sport for one of my colleagues to check what he’d been reading after he put the books back on the shelves.”
OK, so it must have been the boy she fancied.
“What was he doing here in Brønshøj, then?”
“He just turned up one day. Sat over there reading magazines, technical stuff, then he went over to the computers. I don’t know how long he was there, because I swapped duties with one of the other librarians.”
“Did things go missing from people’s bags a lot when you were at Østerbro?”
She baulked at the question. “Why do you ask? Do you suspect him of stealing? I’d have a hard time believing it, I can tell you.”
It was all Carl needed to know. If she couldn’t believe it, he certainly wasn’t going to destroy her image of the lad.
He shook his head. “This colleague at the Østerbro branch who was curious about what the boy was reading, I’d like to speak to her. Do you know where I can get in touch with her? Would she be at work now, do you think?”
“Liselotte’s on maternity leave. But I can check and see where she lives if you want to call her. Just a minute.”
His eyes followed the gentle sway of her hips in her tight skirt all the way to the office. Christ, if only Mona would call tonight and tell him how sorry she was.
–
Liselotte Brix was most certainly pregnant. In fact, she was so pregnant he would have been unable to describe her body’s proportions without making a chauvinistic reference to her condition.
She received him with arms extended over her midriff, looking clearly dismayed in a home already fully equipped for the baby’s arrival. Packs of disposable diapers lined the shelf. The cradle, complete with canopy and battery-driven mobile, ready and waiting in the corner. Apparently she wasn’t superstitious.
“I do hope the boy hasn’t got himself into trouble. He was just so cute.” She patted her distended navel. “If I knew what he was called I’d name this little terror here after him!”
Carl smiled. “No, we’re looking for him because we think he may have some important information in connection with a missing persons case.”
“God, how exciting.”
“Your colleague, Lisbeth, told me you used to check up on what he’d been reading.”
“Yes, it was because he seemed to devour almost anything. And also because he never noticed how fascinated we were by him. It was really funny.”
“Can you give me a couple of examples of things he read?”
“Like I said, it was everything, really. At one point he was heavily into career choices and forms of education. Everything from ‘What Do I Want to be When I Grow Up?’ pamphlets to university admissions criteria or brochures on preparatory courses. All pretty advanced for a boy his age. Other times he’d be reading about Denmark and Danish society. Sociology, domestic politics, contemporary Danish history. Books on the Danish language, dictionaries. I remember once he spent time studying a handbook on Danish opera. There were books on Gypsies, on the legal system, biology, and math. There were really no limits to his curiosity. He read novels, too, even the old Danish classics. And yet he never once borrowed anything to take home with him. Strange, don’t you think?”
“What was the reason for that, do you reckon?”
“I have no idea. But he was different, you see. A bit like an immigrant, but not like the other immigrant boys. I thought he might be a Gypsy, in which case his being so bookish was probably frowned upon at home.”
“A Gypsy?”
“Yeah, you know. That lovely brown skin color, and all those black curls. But he could also have been Spanish or Greek. His accent was different, though, more American sounding, but he definitely wasn’t mulatto.”
“OK.”
“The odd thing was, his accent seemed to dwindle away. His Danish kept improving by the week and his vocabulary expanded all the time. It seemed totally autistic, the way he just soaked everything up.”
“If I understand you right, there were never any adults with him. Was there anything else that might indicate where he belonged?”
“Not really, no.” Liselotte’s eyebrows gave a slight twitch. Most likely due to a kick from her baby. “He was just so cute, that’s all.”
“Do you know if he still uses the branch on Dag Hammarskjölds Allé?”
“Yes, he does. I talk every day with one of the girls who works there. Just this past week he hasn’t been coming much, but I suppose you can ask them yourself.”
19
“That’s correct, Bjørn. I took those effects with me from Bellahøj and now we’ve taken on the William Stark case.”
Marcus Jacobsen’s acting replacement nodded, though it seemed clear to Carl he would have preferred to have shaken his head instead. Again, it was Bjørn in a nutshell, never the one to let a person know what he was really thinking. But Carl had him sussed.
“Good,” Bjørn replied, again meaning something else. “Hansen out in Bellahøj says you swiped those items straight off their counter without their consent. I presume you know you’re out of order there, Carl, seeing as how the effects are connected with a break-in on their turf.”
“Yeah, yeah, Hansen says a lot of things when he ought to keep his mouth shut. This is about a missing person, which is not exactly Rattlesnake’s specialty. But if he thinks he’d enjoy having a gawp at the necklace and that poster, he can drop by and I’ll show them to him. The bottom line is that I’ve taken over the case.”
“Taken over? Pretty big words, coming from you, Carl.” Bjørn smiled, mouth half-open. It didn’t suit him, though no doubt he thought it did. “You say you saw this boy outside Stark’s house and then again at Bellahøj station, and both times he got away? Yes, Carl, that’s definitely what I’d call taking over.”
“Listen here, Bjørn! I’ll get hold of him, don’t you worry. You’re not talking to one of your own dickheads now. It’s only a matter of time.”
Bjørn straightened up in his chair behind Marcus Jacobsen’s desk. Wrong man, wrong desk. It couldn’t have been more obvious.