Read Online The Keeper of Lost Causes by Jussi Adler-Olsen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jussi Adler-Olsen
Tags: det_police
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Response Team’s case, before the reorganization within the police force.”
“And the Rapid Response Team did it because it had to be fast?”
“No, because it was. .” He studied Assad’s alert face with the dancing eyebrows. “Yes, that’s right,” he corrected himself. Why should he encumber Assad, who had absolutely no background knowledge, with all the intricacies of police procedures?
“She was a pretty girl, that Merete Lynggaard, I think.” Assad gave his boss a crooked smile.
“Pretty?” Carl looked at the beautiful, vital woman in the photograph. “Yes, she certainly was.”
11. 2002
Over the next two days the messages began piling up. Merete’s secretary tried to hide her annoyance and pretended to be amiable. Several times she sat and stared at Merete when she thought her boss wouldn’t notice. She once asked if Merete would like to play squash with her on the weekend, but Merete declined. She had no desire for any sort of camaraderie with her staff.
After that the secretary resumed her usual morose and aloof demeanor.
On Friday Merete took home the last messages that her secretary had left on her desk. After reading through them several times, she tossed them in the wastebasket. Then she tied the strings of the garbage bag in a knot and carried it out to the garbage can. She needed to put an end to this, once and for all.
And she felt mean and miserable.
The home help had left a casserole on the table. It was still lukewarm when Merete and Uffe were done dashing about the house. Next to the ovenproof dish was a little note on top of an envelope.
Oh no, she’s going to quit, thought Merete and then read the note.
“A man brought this letter to the house. I suppose it has something to do with the ministry.”
Merete picked up the envelope and tore it open.
“Have a nice trip to Berlin” was all it said.
Uffe was sitting next to her with an empty plate, smiling in anticipation as his nostrils quivered at the delicious aroma from the food. Merete pressed her lips together and scooped up some of the casserole for her brother as she tried not to cry.
The rushing of the east wind was getting louder, whipping up the waves so the foam splashed halfway up the sides of the ship. Uffe loved to stand outside on the sun deck and watch the wake form alongside the ship while the seagulls soared on outspread wings overhead. And Merete loved seeing Uffe happy. She was looking forward to their weekend. It was good that she’d decided they should go after all. Berlin was such a marvelous city.
Up ahead on the deck an elderly couple was looking in their direction; behind them a family sat at one of the tables close to the smokestack, with Thermoses and sandwiches that they’d brought along. The children had already finished eating, and Merete gave them a smile. The father looked at his watch and said something to his wife. Then they began packing up what was left of their lunch.
She remembered going on this sort of excursion with her parents. That was a long time ago. She turned around. People were already heading below deck to where their cars were parked. They would soon reach the harbor at Puttgarden; only ten more minutes, but not everybody was in a rush. Two men were standing over near the huge picture windows in the stern, with scarves wrapped snugly around their necks as they calmly gazed out to sea. One of them looked frail and gaunt. Merete estimated that they were standing at least six feet apart, so they probably weren’t together.
A sudden impulse made her take the note out of her pocket and look at the six words again. Then she put it back in the envelope and held it up in the air, letting it flutter in the wind for a moment. Then she let it go. The envelope flew upward and then dived down, slipping inside an opening in the side of the ship, underneath the sun deck. For a moment she thought they’d have to go downstairs and retrieve it, but then the note suddenly
“And the Rapid Response Team did it because it had to be fast?”
“No, because it was. .” He studied Assad’s alert face with the dancing eyebrows. “Yes, that’s right,” he corrected himself. Why should he encumber Assad, who had absolutely no background knowledge, with all the intricacies of police procedures?
“She was a pretty girl, that Merete Lynggaard, I think.” Assad gave his boss a crooked smile.
“Pretty?” Carl looked at the beautiful, vital woman in the photograph. “Yes, she certainly was.”
11. 2002
Over the next two days the messages began piling up. Merete’s secretary tried to hide her annoyance and pretended to be amiable. Several times she sat and stared at Merete when she thought her boss wouldn’t notice. She once asked if Merete would like to play squash with her on the weekend, but Merete declined. She had no desire for any sort of camaraderie with her staff.
After that the secretary resumed her usual morose and aloof demeanor.
On Friday Merete took home the last messages that her secretary had left on her desk. After reading through them several times, she tossed them in the wastebasket. Then she tied the strings of the garbage bag in a knot and carried it out to the garbage can. She needed to put an end to this, once and for all.
And she felt mean and miserable.
The home help had left a casserole on the table. It was still lukewarm when Merete and Uffe were done dashing about the house. Next to the ovenproof dish was a little note on top of an envelope.
Oh no, she’s going to quit, thought Merete and then read the note.
“A man brought this letter to the house. I suppose it has something to do with the ministry.”
Merete picked up the envelope and tore it open.
“Have a nice trip to Berlin” was all it said.
Uffe was sitting next to her with an empty plate, smiling in anticipation as his nostrils quivered at the delicious aroma from the food. Merete pressed her lips together and scooped up some of the casserole for her brother as she tried not to cry.
The rushing of the east wind was getting louder, whipping up the waves so the foam splashed halfway up the sides of the ship. Uffe loved to stand outside on the sun deck and watch the wake form alongside the ship while the seagulls soared on outspread wings overhead. And Merete loved seeing Uffe happy. She was looking forward to their weekend. It was good that she’d decided they should go after all. Berlin was such a marvelous city.
Up ahead on the deck an elderly couple was looking in their direction; behind them a family sat at one of the tables close to the smokestack, with Thermoses and sandwiches that they’d brought along. The children had already finished eating, and Merete gave them a smile. The father looked at his watch and said something to his wife. Then they began packing up what was left of their lunch.
She remembered going on this sort of excursion with her parents. That was a long time ago. She turned around. People were already heading below deck to where their cars were parked. They would soon reach the harbor at Puttgarden; only ten more minutes, but not everybody was in a rush. Two men were standing over near the huge picture windows in the stern, with scarves wrapped snugly around their necks as they calmly gazed out to sea. One of them looked frail and gaunt. Merete estimated that they were standing at least six feet apart, so they probably weren’t together.
A sudden impulse made her take the note out of her pocket and look at the six words again. Then she put it back in the envelope and held it up in the air, letting it flutter in the wind for a moment. Then she let it go. The envelope flew upward and then dived down, slipping inside an opening in the side of the ship, underneath the sun deck. For a moment she thought they’d have to go downstairs and retrieve it, but then the note suddenly
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