Read Online The House That Jack Built by Jakob Melander - Free Book Online Page B

door a crack when Lars, Toke, and the two uniformed officers, heavily winded, arrived at the top of the narrow staircase. The neighbour was young and scrawny, with dark, medium-length hair and drooping eyelids above grey cheeks.
    â€œI’ll need to see some ID,” he said.
    Lars pulled out his badge.
    â€œThanks. And sorry.” The guy nodded. “There are a lot of strange people around here.”
    Lars put the badge in his pocket. “I understand. We’d like to speak with your neighbour. Do you know where he is?”
    The guy in the doorway looked surprised. “What did he do?”
    â€œWe just want to talk with him.” Lars smiled in what he hoped was a friendly way. “So you don’t know where he is?”
    Mikkel’s neighbour shook his head.
    â€œWe’re going to carry out a search, and by law we need two witnesses,” Lars said. “Are you able to do that?”
    â€œWell, actually, I’m studying for my exams. But hey, a little procrastination here and there never hurt. You need two people, right?”
    Lars nodded. The guy disappeared inside the apartment but left the door ajar. He heard some murmuring from inside the apartment. A student during exam time . He shouldn’t be so quick to judge.
    Mikkel’s neighbour came out with a young woman. She had spiky black hair and wore a short black tank dress over cut-off jeans. Tattoos ran all the way down one arm. She stared at Lars and the officers with a look of deep distrust.
    The largest of the uniformed officers positioned a crowbar just above the lock between the door and doorframe of Mikkel Rasmussen’s apartment, and forced the door open. The pungent smell of dank clothes, sweat, and rotten food filled the hallway.
    There wasn’t much room in the small apartment. Junk mail spilled across the entranceway. In the middle of the floor, on top of a supermarket flyer, was a half-full bowl of yogurt. A pair of underwear had settled into the thick, grey liquid.
    They had to bend a little because of the sloping attic walls. Unwashed clothes were piled in every corner. In the first room there was a mattress on the floor with dirty sheets. A rectangular piece of chipboard rested on top of two plastic beer crates. Rolling papers, a week-old newspaper, coffee cups, a couple of beer bottles, and two ashtrays filled with butts competed for space on top of the improvised table.
    â€œI’m sure Mikkel wouldn’t mind if I smoked.” Lars looked at the neighbour and his girlfriend, then lit a King’s. He divided Toke and the two officers between the second room, the kitchen, and the washroom, then turned back to the neighbour.
    â€œWere you home the night before last?”
    The neighbour looked at his girlfriend, then nodded. “I was studying.”
    Lars flicked the ashes from his cigarette. The grey flakes fluttered through the dusty light and down toward the ashtray.
    â€œWhat are you studying?” Lars asked.
    The young man’s face lit up. “Philosophy.”
    â€œThat sounds a bit dry,”
    â€œWell, yes and no. A couple of the courses are pretty crazy, so it can get quite interesting now and again.”
    â€œReally?” Lars raised his eyebrows. Then he continued, “How well do you know Mikkel?”
    â€œNot that well.” He shrugged. “We say hello and that’s about it.”
    â€œThe night before last, after 3:00 a.m., did you hear Mikkel come home around that time?”
    The young man thought about it. “I must have been studying Merleau-Ponty around then. I’m afraid I was completely engrossed in it.” He looked annoyed. Lars turned to the girlfriend, gave her an inquiring look. She shook her head, pointed at her ears. Only then did he see the white headphones and the wire running into the pocket of her cut-off jeans.
    â€œShe always listens to music,” the neighbour explained. “The other night as well. She