“What I have to tell you next isn’t easy for me. Some of you who were also involved in the Thomsen murder case will know why, but for the benefit of those who weren’t, I want to give you a brief overview and also talk about my personal role in it, to dispel any rumours you might have heard.”
People shuffled in their seats. Heads were nodded. No one looked directly at Simonsen. An older officer fished a pair of mirrored sunglasses out of his pocket and took refuge behind them.
“Carl Henning Thomsen, a trucker, now deceased, was our chief suspect for the murder of his daughter Catherine. We know for a certainty, however, that he was not in Greenland in September 1983 as at that time he was serving a sentence in Vridsløselille State Prison for narcotics smuggling. Thus he did not kill Maryann Nygaard, and if we believe that one perpetrator was responsible for both murders then he was not guilty of killing Catherine either. The apparently damning evidence gathered against him in 1998 was therefore faked-a possibility that was considered back then, but unfortunately not followed up on.”
Tears had started to trickle down Konrad Simonsen’s face, but he kept his voice steady and accepted the handkerchief that Pauline Berg handed him, without ceasing to speak. He turned his head away, however, when the screen showed the photograph of a middle-aged man, tired and beaten-looking.
“Carl Henning and Ingrid Thomsen lived in Haslev, where together they ran a small removals company. They were Jehovah’s Witnesses, and the same applied to their only daughter Catherine, who had moved to Østerbro here in Copenhagen where she was studying to be a physical therapist. In their free time the parents as well as Catherine went door to door evangelising. Often the parents drove in to the city to meet up with their daughter and all three of them spread the word together. On Saturday the fifth of April, 1997 Catherine disappeared; in the morning she took the train from Copenhagen towards Haslev and was last seen with certainty at Roskilde Station. Her mother was in Jutland at that time, visiting her sister, and the father maintained that Catherine never arrived at the family house. Eight months later her body was found at Stevns.”
Simonsen returned the handkerchief with a little nod of gratitude to Pauline. The tears had dried now he had put the worst of it behind him.
“The investigation was exhaustive, of course, and a number of strongly incriminating circumstances soon pointed to Catherine’s father. First and foremost fingerprints from both his hands were found on the plastic bag used to smother his daughter, in positions that indicated he must have held her around the head after the bag was pulled over it. In addition it could be proved that the plastic bag came from a roll discovered in the Thomsen family’s garage. Furthermore he was seen on the beach at Stevns in March 1997, not far from where the body of Catherine was later found. He maintained he had been summoned by phone to give an estimate for a move, which turned out to be bogus. He’d been given directions to the address that involved walking along the shore. He was unable to account for the other evidence against him.”
Here the Countess interrupted her boss.
“What about that phone call? Could it be confirmed or ruled out?”
“It was confirmed, but it was made from an unknown cell phone towards the cell-phone tower covering Carl Henning Thomsen’s residence. We assumed he called himself, but could never connect the telephone or the call directly to him. Okay?”
“Yes, but what you have just told us seems to be incriminating enough.”
“But unfortunately there were various discrepancies, which at the time were noted but dismissed. First and foremost, we could not understand why we found the father’s fingerprints on the plastic bag while there were no fingerprints on the duct tape. Furthermore his truck’s tachograph from the day of Catherine Thomsen’s death showed that it had not been at Stevns, and we were never able to establish what vehicle had been used to transport her body. The family’s other car was in Jutland. Then the nails being cut… we didn’t understand that either. The girl’s nails were not that long, and according to his wife he had never commented negatively on them. There were other small details that didn’t fit either, but you can read those for yourself in the case notes.”
A detective in the front row interrupted.
“You mentioned before that he was in prison for narcotics smuggling in 1983.”
“Correct. Amphetamines and cocaine, if I remember correctly.”
“Did he have a criminal career, and if so how does that fit with his being a Jehovah’s Witness? It sounds like a strange combination.”
“When he was younger he was sentenced twice, both times for importing narcotics, which was easy for him as a long-distance driver. Then he met his wife and by his own account was saved. Nothing suggests that his criminal activity continued after they were married in 1986.”
“But Catherine Thomsen’s age… I can’t really get that to fit.”
“Catherine was his daughter, later adopted by Ingrid when he married her. The girl’s biological mother died in a traffic accident when Catherine was little. But remember, this isn’t meant to be a detailed review. You can read up on all this for yourselves.”
“Okay, I was just curious.”
Simonsen gave a wry smile.
“It comes in useful in our line of work. Well, back to Carl Henning Thomsen. Troublingly, our murder inquiry never established any cast-iron motive for Catherine’s death. We did know, however, that she had been keeping something secret from her parents. She had initiated what can best be described as a cautious or dawning lesbian relationship with a woman we know existed, but never located. The assumption was that the daughter must have informed her father about what was going on, after which, in an outburst of righteous fury, he killed her. But this was all highly speculative on our part, and there were timing issues there also. Another theory was that their daughter continuing her studies had offended the parents-Jehovah’s Witnesses do not believe much in education-but that didn’t carry water.
“Carl Henning Thomsen continued to maintain his innocence, again and again. I don’t know how many hours he was questioned for altogether, but not for the briefest moment did he waver. My boss, Kasper Planck, thought for a long time that we had made a mistake over the prints, which unfortunately I finally talked him out of. He had all the proper doubts, I had all the good arguments, and sadly for Thomsen my view prevailed. In the past few days I’ve realised that I am going to have to live with this mistake for the rest of my life.”
To Simonsen’s own surprise he’d got through the admission he’d been dreading. Or maybe even thinking that way was symptomatic of his own self-importance-he was an egocentric fool, who could not tolerate being wrong, and now felt sorrier for himself than for those who had suffered as a result of his shortcomings.
Pedersen asked, “Should we take a break?”
Simonsen glanced at him in confusion.
“Excuse me, what was that you asked?”
“Whether we should take a break.”
“Yes, in a little bit, I'm just about done. The investigation ended when we brought charges against Carl Henning Thomsen for the murder of his daughter. During the trial he had a mental breakdown and was admitted to Rigshospitalet, where despite close monitoring he managed to throw himself out of a ninth-floor window. That was in October 1998. The case was then archived. Two years later, however, there was an addendum to the notes when sophisticated listening devices were found in Catherine Thomsen’s old apartment during its renovation, but no one knew whether these had anything to do with her murder, and no one made more than a half-hearted attempt to find out. Any questions or comments?”