— Understood. But, unfortunately, this is so.
— Did Graham tell you this? — the deacon suddenly calmed down.
— Yes.
— Then forget it. He is sick. This guy has a rich imagination and a problem with reality. Sometimes he doesn't see the difference between them. He sees ghosts, now rape. Just a sick person, what can we take from him?
— But you won’t deny that you don’t know what’s going on behind the closed door in his room?
— Go away. I will not allow the name of the best woman among our parishioners to be defamed. Ms. Anderson may not be a saint, but I'm sure you're maliciously trying to smear her name.
Iver, Jack and Glenda got everything they needed. It is pointless to prove to a saint blinded by the charm of a beauty that he is wrong. Or maybe it's all about money? Then it is all the more necessary to quickly find this pervert and stop her lawlessness.
— We didn't tell Graham about Jornas's death. Do you think this is very bad, he will be waiting for him, right? — Glenda was alarmed.
— Badly. But we'll come back for it. And now hurry up to the police station.
Chapter 7
Double sensations now tormented Glenda. Either she should finish off Katerina herself, and then calmly plead insanity and go to a mental hospital instead of prison. Or let justice do it.
“It’s a pity that the death penalty has been abolished in Denmark,” the girl complained.
— Nothing, now we will approve the permission to detain Miss Andersson and go to her. Prison will be worse than sweet death.
— Iver, do you think it will all end today?
— You'll see, baby. Tomorrow I’ll take a day off, and you and I will go for a walk through all the museums in Copenhagen. We'll drink beer and dance in the rain.
— Fine. It also seems to me that today we will save your city from this dangerous villain. Jack, what do you think?
— I think you guys have done a good job, and everything should end today. A criminal in the government is a disaster for the state.
— We don’t yet know whether her father is aware of his daughter’s perversions. This will be difficult to prove if they hire a good lawyer.
— Then I’ll just write in the Politiken newspaper and definitely ruin his reputation. Doesn't raising a criminal daughter mean he's a bad father? But aren’t father and ruler synonymous concepts when viewed on a large scale?
— You're right! — concluded both cops.
Then all three drove in silence to the sounds of the car and the city. The radio was silent. The dispatcher reported that there was noise on all waves, apparently a technical problem.
The engine roared at intersections, so that the tires squealed throughout the street. One hundred and twenty with a siren, and now they are already in their station.
The queen of the police hive did not immediately give permission. Behind the glass wall, Glenda did not hear their conversations, but clearly observed the actively gesticulating Iver, Jack, who non-stop wandered around the office like a lion in a cage, periodically interjecting his word to the boss, and the site manager just shook her head. Unshakable, but with kind eyes, she rather irritated those who spoke with her appearance.
And so, when they both gave up, they ran out of arguments and gave up, the phone rang, Mrs. Matka picked up the phone.
Her face contorted with unpleasant surprise, after which she finally spoke.
The strange expression on his face spread like an epidemic to others present in the office.
All three left.
— Glenda… — Iver came closer and put both hands on her shoulders. This happens before someone tries to deliver bad news. And also this guilty look, as if something terrible had happened — the Deacon from the Church of Grundtvig called. — the girl tensed, Iver waited a second and continued, taking her shoulders even tighter. — Graham died.
— How did you die? Did Katherine do this?
— The deacon said that she came into his room, then Graham suddenly started banging his head against the wall, and…
— What and…?
— And in the end he broke his skull.
— God! — Glenda, sitting in a chair, leaned between her knees as if she was about to throw up. Not from what Jornas’s brother did to himself, but from his own helplessness. She couldn't save the second of the Kronwood family, but she could have. I could have done this just an hour ago if I had taken the boy with me under the supervision of the police until the killer was imprisoned. I could have forbidden the deacon to let this woman in to see him today. By any means, but I didn’t. And this is her sin, which no communion will wash away.
— Sorry.
— For what? We were all there… — cried a tearful Glenda.
— Yes…And now I asked the deacon not to let Miss Andersson leave the church, to hold her, without showing it, until we arrive.
— Do you already have permission to detain?
— Yes. Go.
Glenda tried to get up, but her legs felt like cotton wool.
She looked at them and saw first the torn jeans, and then the charred limbs underneath them. The smell of burning human flesh stuck in my throat, sweet and bitter at the same time, penetrated my nostrils in a matter of seconds. There were people with decaying bodies standing around, they were all busy working. And opposite her, two male corpses were saying something. Glenda fell into unconsciousness.
Chapter 8
— At little Mary's
A great mishap did unfold,
Her right shoe gone, we're told.
In one she leaps and wails,
Impossible without its pair, it pales!
Yet, dear Mary, don't you weep,
For the lost shoe, a secret to keep.
A new one we'll craft, without dismay,
Or purchase a match, without delay.
Just take heed, be watchful, take care,
No more losses, a tale rare!
How nice it is to hear again the kind English song that her mother sang to her before bed as a child.
Glenda lay with her eyes closed on something hard, her body did not obey. But she would have lain like that for a long time, if only the song would not stop.
The gentle female voice suddenly cleared her throat loudly and ceased to be pleasant.
— Get up, slut!
Glenda's eyes widened.
In front of her face was the ceiling of her house with a pattern from the dim light of a floor lamp, a new house in Copenhagen. Looking around, she didn’t see anyone, but she clearly realized that she was lying on the floor in the living room. It was night outside, the lights weren’t on, you couldn’t even see the sky, it was a dull, impenetrable darkness.
“Get up, I said!” the nasty voice commanded again.
Catherine appeared in the doorway.
Tall with long white hair and plump pink lips, the girl could have looked like an ordinary blonde from a teen comedy, if not for the bloody ax in her hand.
On a white silk dress, small red splashes outlined a cross pattern.
— Did you kill the deacon?
— Yeah. The old scoundrel decided to reproach me. — the girl answered coolly in the doorway and approached Glenda, who was lying motionless. A sharp heel pressed against his bare hand. — Get up, whore. You stole my boyfriend and then started stalking me, and you expect me to leave everything as it is?
— Why did you kill Graham, he’s still just a child?
— He killed himself, I only told about the death of his brother!