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Authors: Sara Blædel
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her cheek.
Louise sighed wearily as she got up to go to Rønholt’s office. The hallway walls were painted a pale green, and apparently someone had a penchant for cartoons, because black-and-white drawings of all the well-known cartoon characters were displayed in varnished wood frames the whole way. Only now did Louise discover that a new one had been added right across from her door: Remy, the kitchen rat from the movie
Ratatouille.
Oh, funny!
she thought, sarcastically at first but then she couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t recall the names of the three investigators down the hall. They were all guys, and the artist had to be one of them, she guessed.
“You like it?” Eik asked from behind her.
“Like it?” Louise asked. “I don’t think the point was for me to like it. Isn’t it just meant to remind me that I’m the one who got the office that was infested?”
“I don’t think so,” he said as they walked down the hallway together. “Olle is the one who drew it, and I’m guessing it’s his housewarming gift to you. He’s really talented, and he’s made a drawing like that for everyone in the department. I got Goofy.”
He pointed toward his old office, where the picture hung right next to the door.
“Olle’s been in the department the longest,” he continued, “even though Hanne claims he could actually make a living selling his pictures. But he only paints on the weekends and when he takes time off for his overtime.”
Louise couldn’t quite imagine who would actually pay money for the cartoon characters in the glossy frames, but perhaps that was just because she was not the target audience.
“Well, then I’d better hurry up and go thank him,” she said. She was still smiling when Hanne suddenly came rushing toward them.
“I’ve just put a phone call through to you,” she said. “It’s a lady who recognizes the woman you’ve been trying to identify.”
10
I T’S BEEN SO long now,” the woman on the phone began after Louise picked up the line.
“But you recognize the person in the photograph?” Louise asked quickly, to help her get started.
“Yes, I’m sure I do,” she said. “I once knew a little girl whose face became disfigured like that. I think I also recognize the features on the other side of her face.”
“Then I’m glad you called.” Louise asked the woman for her name and phone number.
“Agnete Eskildsen,” she said, adding that she lived on Hallenslev Street in Gørlev.
“And you’ve crossed paths with the woman we’re looking for?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Her name is Lisemette.”
Louise asked Agnete Eskildsen to tell her what she knew.
“Well, back then she was just a little girl,” she started. “I’vejust been trying to count the years. Lisemette must have come to Eliselund around 1965. I remember because I myself was on D back then, and that was the section for the little ones. The children were around three years old.”
“Eliselund?” Louise interrupted as she noted that the deceased would have been born around 1962. “What’s that?”
“Why, it was a home for the retarded,” Agnete Eskildsen explained. “They’re called mentally disabled now, of course, but that’s what they were called back then. It’s just outside Ringsted. I worked there as a care assistant.”
She seemed to be thinking.
“I can’t remember exactly anymore what the area is called, but there’s a pretty big lake that the institution was facing. You should be able to find it if you have a map.”
“So she’d been put in a home for the mentally handicapped,” Louise confirmed. That was consistent with the results of the brain scan that Flemming had done. “Do you remember anything about her parents? Were they locals?”
“I’m afraid I don’t recall.”
“We would really like to find her next of kin,” Louise explained to emphasize the importance of the woman thinking carefully.
The line was quiet, and Louise assumed that Agnete
Louise sighed wearily as she got up to go to Rønholt’s office. The hallway walls were painted a pale green, and apparently someone had a penchant for cartoons, because black-and-white drawings of all the well-known cartoon characters were displayed in varnished wood frames the whole way. Only now did Louise discover that a new one had been added right across from her door: Remy, the kitchen rat from the movie
Ratatouille.
Oh, funny!
she thought, sarcastically at first but then she couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t recall the names of the three investigators down the hall. They were all guys, and the artist had to be one of them, she guessed.
“You like it?” Eik asked from behind her.
“Like it?” Louise asked. “I don’t think the point was for me to like it. Isn’t it just meant to remind me that I’m the one who got the office that was infested?”
“I don’t think so,” he said as they walked down the hallway together. “Olle is the one who drew it, and I’m guessing it’s his housewarming gift to you. He’s really talented, and he’s made a drawing like that for everyone in the department. I got Goofy.”
He pointed toward his old office, where the picture hung right next to the door.
“Olle’s been in the department the longest,” he continued, “even though Hanne claims he could actually make a living selling his pictures. But he only paints on the weekends and when he takes time off for his overtime.”
Louise couldn’t quite imagine who would actually pay money for the cartoon characters in the glossy frames, but perhaps that was just because she was not the target audience.
“Well, then I’d better hurry up and go thank him,” she said. She was still smiling when Hanne suddenly came rushing toward them.
“I’ve just put a phone call through to you,” she said. “It’s a lady who recognizes the woman you’ve been trying to identify.”
10
I T’S BEEN SO long now,” the woman on the phone began after Louise picked up the line.
“But you recognize the person in the photograph?” Louise asked quickly, to help her get started.
“Yes, I’m sure I do,” she said. “I once knew a little girl whose face became disfigured like that. I think I also recognize the features on the other side of her face.”
“Then I’m glad you called.” Louise asked the woman for her name and phone number.
“Agnete Eskildsen,” she said, adding that she lived on Hallenslev Street in Gørlev.
“And you’ve crossed paths with the woman we’re looking for?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Her name is Lisemette.”
Louise asked Agnete Eskildsen to tell her what she knew.
“Well, back then she was just a little girl,” she started. “I’vejust been trying to count the years. Lisemette must have come to Eliselund around 1965. I remember because I myself was on D back then, and that was the section for the little ones. The children were around three years old.”
“Eliselund?” Louise interrupted as she noted that the deceased would have been born around 1962. “What’s that?”
“Why, it was a home for the retarded,” Agnete Eskildsen explained. “They’re called mentally disabled now, of course, but that’s what they were called back then. It’s just outside Ringsted. I worked there as a care assistant.”
She seemed to be thinking.
“I can’t remember exactly anymore what the area is called, but there’s a pretty big lake that the institution was facing. You should be able to find it if you have a map.”
“So she’d been put in a home for the mentally handicapped,” Louise confirmed. That was consistent with the results of the brain scan that Flemming had done. “Do you remember anything about her parents? Were they locals?”
“I’m afraid I don’t recall.”
“We would really like to find her next of kin,” Louise explained to emphasize the importance of the woman thinking carefully.
The line was quiet, and Louise assumed that Agnete
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