Soluble relief in large amounts invariably wrecked your stomach, he knew that, but on the other hand it got his brain working again and now he felt sufficiently speedy to make sure Rose and Assad both got his message.
“Not a word about Bjørn or Gordon, do you understand? It’s got me on a short fuse and we’ve got other things to do, OK? You start, Rose. Please make it brief and to the point.”
Rose nodded. She looked completely unfazed by the morning’s pandemonium.
“OK, this is the CCTV footage, Carl. You can see the boy going into the police station, but he’s got his face partially covered, so it’s hard to see him properly.” Rose paused the video, freezing a gray image of a glass door and a figure seen from above.
Assad and Carl stepped closer to the screen.
“He doesn’t look like an Arab, Carl. His ears are set rather high on his head, so most likely he is not from the Balkans either.”
Funny observation. Were the ears of people from the Balkans really lower-set than others?
Rose leaned forward. “Dark, curly hair, almost like a Latino, and not very old. What’s his age do you reckon, Carl?”
“Fourteen or fifteen. That’s what I’ve heard others say, too. Could be younger, though. They mature quicker in those parts. What about his clothing?”
Assad smiled. “His shirt looks like something my uncle would wear.”
Carl nodded. “Exactly. Just the sort of thing a junior office slave would have worn fifteen years ago. Where the hell did he get a thing like that?”
“A secondhand shop?” Assad ventured.
“He’d have chosen something else, surely?”
“Perhaps he swiped it from one of those charity drop boxes. Maybe it just happened to be at the top of the pile.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Carl put his finger to the screen. “Why do you think he’s covering his face like that? And while we’re at it, why would he need to steal someone else’s ID?”
“Very simple,” said Assad. “He hasn’t got one of his own.”
Carl nodded. Assad definitely had a point there; the thought had crossed his mind as well. “Either that or he hasn’t kept his nose clean.”
Assad frowned. “What does his nose have to do with it? You can’t even see it here.”
Carl sighed. “It’s an idiom, Assad. Forget I ever said it. What I meant was, he might be involved in something unlawful.”
Rose took her notepad and began scribbling. “Listen, if he hasn’t got a national identity card of his own it means either he’s not registered in Denmark or else his parents keep the card for him. My feeling is he’s too self-dependent for the second explanation, so I’d go with the first.”
“Could he be a Gypsy?” Carl asked. “You’ve mentioned it before, Rose, so maybe that’s a possibility.”
They peered again at the screen. Judging by his clothes and general appearance, the boy was an indeterminate miscellany of everything. Gypsy, French, central European-practically any origin was possible.
Rose scanned forward. “This is where he starts backing out, and this is where you appear at the front counter, Carl. You can see he recognizes you, right there.”
Assad’s face creased into a smile. “He sure didn’t like the look of you, Carl. See how he runs!”
“Yeah, we recognized each other from Stark’s place.”
“So now we know from the missing persons notice, the necklace, and the fact that you saw him outside Stark’s house that he has an interest in Stark’s disappearance and probably knows something about it as well. Do you reckon he’s a rent boy?”
They stared at Rose in astonishment.
“I mean it wouldn’t be the first time a man’s double life ended up being his downfall, would it? Like I said before, maybe Stark liked children. Maybe that’s what this Africa thing is all about. You have to admit it’s a bit weird for a boy to be so involved in this case.”
“You see something weird in everything, Rose,” said Assad.
“Howdy, campers,” came a mutter from the doorway, and there he was again. Gordon himself, his effeminate haircut falling down over his eyes and his head rotating like a periscope in enemy waters, surveilling them.
“We’re a bit busy at the moment, Gordon,” said Rose, to Carl’s surprise.
“In that case, I’d like very much just to watch.”
Watch? Hadn’t the man the slightest sense of occasion?
“Any reason in particular you’re here?” Carl asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve just read up on the Anweiler case. It seems to me that the deceased’s husband ought to have been kept on a shorter leash. Among other things, the report states-”
“Do you mind leaving now, Gordon?” Rose said, cutting him off. “We’re in the middle of another case at the moment.”
Gordon smiled and raised an index finger. “The way I see it, Rose dearest, is that one is best served by bringing one thing to a satisfactory conclusion before starting on-”
“Gordon, take a look around you. Can’t you see we’re busy on another case? The Anweiler case is history, all right? Solved, get it? S-O-L-V-E-D means solved. Hasn’t it sunk into that thick skull of yours yet?”
“Have you any idea how lovely you are when you’re angry, Rose? It’s like all the elements come together in that beautiful face of yours all at once,” he replied with empathy. Was there a song coming on?
If Assad hadn’t begun to snigger, Carl would have chucked something heavy at the man. Instead, he looked at Rose, anticipating the thunderstorm that was about to break, but she seemed almost ill at ease with the situation.
Carl drew himself to his full height. Not quite as tall as this puppy, but on the other hand in a different weight class altogether.
“Farewell, Gordon,” he said, torpedoing the poor devil’s hip with his twelve-pack, as Mona liked to call his stomach region.
They managed to hear the crash as Bjørn’s hapless patsy collided with the corridor wall before Carl slammed the door so hard that even the workmen at the far end stopped drilling for a moment.
“He’s wild about you, Rose,” Assad commented, rolling his eyes. “But maybe you feel the same way about him, too?”
Rose glanced away. It was her only reaction and open to interpretation. Carl, in any case, had his own explanation.
“Should we carry on?” she said, trying to sound normal. “This is what I’ve noted down so far. Stark’s got no family left, his mother having died and left him all her money. But before that, he’d already spent a lot more than he actually had. At the time of his disappearance he seems to have had no debts, and he hasn’t made any withdrawals from his accounts since he went missing. There’s no tax arrears, no life insurance besides the usual, and the mortgage on the house is all paid up. First-class degree from the university and never been in trouble with the police. The neighbors in Brønshøj all speak highly of him.”
She looked up from her notes. “But again: Why did the man disappear? Was it some kind of sexual obsession? Did he have enemies? Gambling debts?”
“No, not gambling debts,” Assad interrupted. “Why would anyone get rid of him because of money he could easily pay? A person does not throw a kite up into the air when there is no wind.”
Carl shook his head. Sometimes it would help if Assad came with subtitles.
“Listen,” Carl said. “My feeling is that the answer to all this lies somewhere in his trip to Africa. Rose, I want copies of all his bank statements by tomorrow, plus whatever else the two of you have already compiled. In the meantime, Assad and I are going over to the ministry to have a word with Stark’s boss and colleagues. So we might not get back here today. And as for Gordon, Rose, I’d say you were best served keeping work and play separate.”
He felt the stab of her kohl-rimmed eyes, but it was no use. She could do as she was told, simple as that.