Read Online The Killing - 01 - The Killing by David Hewson - Free Book Online

‘I didn’t yell.’
    His bleak and watchful eyes caught her.
    ‘He hates us, Lund. You saw that.’
    ‘We’re police. Lots of people hate us.’
    ‘Picked his moment, didn’t he?’
    Half past two in the morning. Hartmann was there when they got to the Rådhus. Rie Skovgaard, the slick attractive woman they’d seen at the school, sat on his left. Hartmann’s awkward fidgety middle-aged campaign manager, Morten Weber, was on the other side.
    ‘Thanks for coming in,’ Lund said.
    ‘We didn’t,’ Hartmann answered. ‘We just stayed. There’s an election coming. We work late. Did you find the girl?’
    ‘Yes.’ Meyer stared at the politician in the blue shirt, blue trousers. ‘She was in your rental car.’
    Lund wrote out the number, placed it on the table.
    ‘Who was the last person to drive it?’
    Hartmann sat rigid in his leather seat.
    ‘Our car?’
    Meyer pushed the note closer to him.
    ‘That’s what we said. Can we have a little action now?’
    ‘I’ll check,’ Morten Weber said. ‘It’ll take a while.’
    ‘Why?’ Meyer wanted to know.
    ‘We’ve lots of cars,’ Weber said. ‘Thirty drivers. It’s the middle of the night. We still have people working. Let me make some calls.’
    He left the table and went off into a corner with his phone.
    ‘What do they do, these cars?’ Lund asked.
    ‘Deliver campaign material,’ Skovgaard said. ‘Put up posters. That kind of thing.’
    ‘When did you send a car to the school in Frederiksholm?’
    ‘Probably Friday I guess . . .’
    Meyer snapped, put his hands palm down on the table, leaned over and said, ‘Guessing isn’t much good. The girl’s dead. We need to know—’
    ‘We’ve nothing to hide,’ Hartmann broke in. ‘We want to help. It’s past two in the morning. We can’t pull answers out of a hat.’
    ‘Was Nanna Birk Larsen connected to your political work?’
    ‘No,’ said Skovgaard straight away. ‘She’s not on any of our lists.’
    ‘That was quick,’ Meyer said.
    ‘I thought you wanted quick.’
    Weber returned.
    ‘The campaign secretary’s in Oslo right now.’
    ‘Screw Oslo!’ Meyer cried. ‘This is a murder case. Get some answers.’
    Weber sat down, raised an eyebrow at him, looked at Lund.
    Checking the hierarchy, Lund thought. Smart man.
    ‘So I asked the security desk. The keys were collected by Rikke Nielsen on Friday.’
    ‘Who’s she?’ Lund asked.
    ‘Rikke’s in charge of our team of volunteers.’ Weber shrugged. ‘Anyone can volunteer. We use temps when there aren’t enough.’
    He glanced at Meyer who was now pacing the room, hands in pockets, like a cockerel pushing for a fight.
    ‘You’ve phoned her?’ Meyer demanded.
    ‘Her phone’s off. She’s probably organizing the posters.’
    Meyer nodded sarcastically.
    ‘Probably?’
    ‘Yes. Like I said. Thirty drivers to coordinate. It’s a lot of work.’
    ‘Stop!’ Meyer was back at the table again. ‘There’s a dead girl and you’re sitting here as if it’s beneath you.’
    ‘Meyer,’ Lund said.
    ‘I want answers,’ he barked.
    ‘Meyer!’
    Loud enough. He stopped.
    ‘Call headquarters,’ she ordered. ‘Give Buchard an update. Tell him we’re going to interview the volunteers.’
    He didn’t move.
    ‘It’s past Buchard’s bedtime . . .’
    She locked eyes with him.
    ‘Just do it.’
    He went off to the window.
    ‘Do you have any idea where this woman is now?’ Lund asked.
    Weber looked at a piece of paper. He highlighted something with a green marker.
    ‘My best bet.’
    Skovgaard took it, checked the names, then handed it on.
    ‘The press,’ she said. ‘There’s no need for them to know.’
    Lund shook her head, puzzled.
    ‘A young girl’s been murdered. We can’t keep this secret.’
    ‘No,’ Hartmann said. ‘If it was our car we need to issue a statement. It’s important no one can accuse us of hiding anything.’
    ‘I don’t want you making details public,’ Lund insisted. ‘You talk to no