Simonsen arrived twenty minutes after the scheduled start time and nodded curtly at his audience. Mostly they occupied the first or second row of seats, Berg and Pedersen with a bit of space around them out to one side. The Countess took a vacant seat alongside Pedersen, but got up again when the man from the Foreign Ministry went after her boss before he had even started.
“Let me say right now, Chief Inspector Simonsen, that this is absolutely the last time you arrive late to an appointment with me. I hope you understand that.”
The man was relatively short, middle-aged, and appeared harmless enough at first glance, dressed in a scruffy suit and with his hair badly in need of a comb. Strange, considering his place of employment. But something understated and ominous in his tone suggested that normally he was obeyed without any objection being raised. Not even his peculiar high-pitched voice, which sounded almost like a child’s, detracted from the impression that this was someone you did not want to pick a fight with. Perhaps it was the calm way in which he spoke, the conviction with which he made the subtle threat.
The Countess tried to take the blame for the delay. You didn’t need to be a fortune teller to predict that an unstable homicide chief and a conceited bureaucrat were not a good mix. Rescue came, however, from an unexpected quarter in the form of a secretary from the front office of the national chief of police, who was usually known for her friendly manner. With a completely unaccustomed show of aggression she spoke up, and there was no doubt as to whom she was addressing, even if she pointedly remained seated.
“The national chief of police asked me to say that you are a guest here, and if you can’t behave properly, you can shove off. The last is a direct quote, which he specifically asked me to use, and afterwards to apologise for the fact that unfortunately he has not been schooled in diplomacy.”
The Foreign Ministry representative got to his feet and left the room in dignified silence, ignoring the slide of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue, which Malte Borup had conjured up on the big screen like lightning. Immediately afterwards the secretary also left, saying her presence was no longer required.
As the door slammed behind her, Pedersen spoke for them all.
“Well, that was edifying. Without our visitors’ presence we might even get something done… and then we’ll have to face the music later, because there will be trouble. That gnome isn’t to be trifled with. Malte, you could get five years’ deportation.”
Simonsen, who had not said anything throughout, suddenly took control.
“Then we’d better make good use of the time we have. Malte, give me the first images. The floor is open if anyone has anything sensible to contribute. No need to stand on ceremony.”
Images of the two dead women quickly dampened the group’s high spirits. The photographs had been carefully selected from the hundreds taken at each crime-scene, so that camera angle and distance were near-identical, further underscoring the similarities between them. Simonsen expanded on this.
“The woman to the left is Maryann Nygaard. She was killed on the thirteenth of September, 1983 at the DYE-5 station on Greenland’s ice cap, and found just over a week ago in circumstances I’m sure you have heard about. The woman to the right is Catherine Thomsen. She was killed on the fifth of April, 1997 at Nordstranden outside Stevns’s Klint. Her body was discovered some eight months later by two amateur archaeologists, who picked up her bracelet with their metal detectors. There is a long list of similarities between the two murders, which means, I believe, that we are dealing with the same perpetrator. I still want you to listen with an open mind and maintain your usual healthy scepticism, though. You all know how fatal to an investigation it can be to jump to the wrong conclusions early on.”
There were nods of agreement. Simonsen continued.
“Both women’s hands were secured with duct tape to their thighs, just above the knees. The ankles likewise were tied together with duct tape. This was done before death. Both women were dressed only in panties and undershirt. Both had their breasts exposed or partly exposed, their clothing torn in front. We know that Catherine Thomsen wore a bra, so that was removed. We do not have corresponding information on Maryann Nygaard. Both women’s nails had been clipped, in all probability by the perpetrator. Both were buried immediately after their death-Maryann Nygaard in ice and Catherine Thomsen in gravel, close enough to the sea that her body was regularly covered with chalky water and thereby to some degree kept partially intact. Bright red lipstick has been applied to the mouths of both women before their death. In their mouths and throats textile fibres have been found-the result of a rag having been stuffed into their mouth. Specifically in the case of Catherine Thomsen some of these fibres contained microscopic traces of lipstick, while others did not, from which the technicians conclude that the perpetrator put the lipstick on while she had the rag in her mouth. We won’t know if the same approach was used on Maryann Nygaard until we get the final autopsy report, and that won’t be ready for a couple of days. Last but not least, both women were suffocated by pulling a transparent plastic bag over their heads and fastening it around their neck. The rag in their mouth was removed prior to that.”
Simonsen paused briefly. None of his listeners said anything, and the mood was heavy. Malte Borup, who had illustrated his boss’s points with corresponding close-ups, returned to the original two photographs.
“In addition to this, there are a number of features common to both homicides which may or may not be coincidences. Judge for yourself. Maryann Nygaard was twenty-three years old at her death, Catherine Thomsen twenty-two. Both women were medium height and slender, almost athletic in build. Both had black, wavy hair down to the middle of their back, and in both cases their hair was let down when they were found. If you look at their faces, there are quite a few similarities. Both must be considered pretty, with fine features, high cheekbones and brown eyes. Naturally there are differences, especially around the nose, but without being able to support it objectively I would say there was a close resemblance between them.”
Pedersen took Pauline Berg by the hand. She misunderstood and pushed him away, annoyed at first, only to freeze the next moment when she stared at the screen and, shaken, grab hold of his hand again. Simonsen went on speaking.
“For further parallels it should be mentioned that the women were not raped, and we must assume there had not been any other form of sexual molestation, apart from the exposed breasts. Maryann Nygaard’s vagina contained an intact tampon, and Catherine Thomsen was a virgin-she was an active member of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, who as you know do not sanction pre-marital sex. And besides, no semen residue was found at either of the crime scenes.”
He paused here, waiting for a reaction which quickly came. They were all in agreement that the person who had murdered Maryann Nygaard in 1983 most likely also killed Catherine Thomsen almost fourteen years later. He took a deep breath. He’d reached the part of the briefing he’d been dreading. His words were chosen with care.