20
The moment Jakob turned up at the station the next day, he was summoned by Mr Mortensen, the chief of police, whose office, as always, was foggy with grey smoke from the cigars in the ashtray on his desk near the room’s only window.
‘Pedersen, God damn you,’ Mortensen grunted. ‘What have you got us mixed up in this time?’
‘I don’t quite follow… Good morning, sir.’
‘And good morning to you too. They’ve found another one. Another dead man. His skin gone and his stomach cut open. This is turning into a real mess. And it’s not for this sort of thing that we’re up here, is it?’
Jakob picked at one of his shirt buttons, not sure how he was supposed to respond.
‘Don’t just stand there fidgeting, man. Do something!’ Mortensen slid a piece of paper across his desk towards Jakob. ‘It’s Block P—again. Here’s the address.’
Jakob picked up the note and stuffed it into his trouser pocket.
‘Take Karlo. He understands all that local hullabaloo. Now get out of here. One skinned and gutted man we can handle, but two? Whatever next?’
‘I’ll handle it, sir. If the two deaths are connected, we’ll know and we’ll intensify our search for the killer.’ He hesitated. ‘Any news about the missing girl? Najak?’
Mortensen shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘But we’ll dispatch people to look for her again today, won’t we?’
The fat, balding man nodded and picked up one of his stumpy cigars from the ashtray. ‘Yes. Of course. I’ll see to it.’
Mortensen had come from Horsens, a provincial town in Denmark where he’d been a superintendent, before ending up in Godthåb as chief of police.
‘Get out of here,’ Mortensen growled, and puffed on his cigar, smoke trailing down his chin like heavy evening clouds over a mountain range. ‘I’ll have the bloody mayor and the provincial council on my back before the day is over.’
Less than thirty minutes later Jakob and Karlo had reached Block P, where, as expected, a crowd of locals had gathered outside one of the stairwells in the long concrete building.
Karlo led the way and told the onlookers, whose number included young children with grimy faces and big black eyes, as well as toothless old women and men, that they needed to keep back. When that didn’t have the desired effect, he added that the killer was still at large and might summon evil spirits from the underground.
Whether it was his words about the killer or the bit about the evil spirits that made the dark eyes and red cheeks disperse and seek refuge behind posts, doors and curtains, Jakob couldn’t tell, but scatter they did. Karlo pressed on, taking long strides up the steps to the apartment where the new victim had been found.
He swore loudly the moment he went through the door. Jakob was close behind him. The living room seemed filled with dark shadows and deep, brief cries, as if they were being attacked by demons, but it took Jakob only seconds to realise that it was just a couple of black ravens flitting around the room. Karlo was trying to shoo them out. The birds seemed angry, but Karlo managed to herd them out of the open windows.
‘Bloody birds,’ an agitated Karlo yelled across Store Slette. ‘Who leaves their windows open in this weather?’ He shook his head.
‘Perhaps the killer let the ravens in?’ Jakob ventured.
‘Perhaps,’ Karlo said. ‘But I don’t think so. It’s just so typical. Many of the residents don’t understand these big apartment blocks. My grandmother lives here, and she often has the heating on full blast in the living room while leaving all the windows open.’ He shook his head again and closed one of the windows. ‘I’ve told her that it’s stupid and a waste of money, but she just says that she misses the feel of the wind and the scent of the sea, which always came into her house back in the village. Here the walls are too thick and solid.’
All this time Jakob’s gaze was fixed on the flayed body on the floor. It was a Greenlandic male, like the one they had found yesterday. Muscles, sinews and fat glistened through membranes of congealed blood.
‘He was killed in the same manner,’ Jakob said quietly, and he squatted down on his haunches next to the mutilated corpse. He carefully placed his fingertips on the man’s exposed chest muscle. ‘He hasn’t been dead for very long.’
‘He’s been cut open just like the other one,’ Karlo said. ‘But this is messier.’
‘I think we can blame the birds for that,’ Jakob said, picking up an ulo. It was smeared with a red and brown substance. ‘My guess is that the intestines were laid out as they were with the first victim, until the ravens helped themselves.’
Karlo straightened up and looked around the living room. ‘So we’ve got our very own Jack the Ripper.’
‘We might have.’ Jakob put down the ulo. ‘Except Jack the Ripper’s victims were women. But it’s true he cut open their stomachs and took out their intestines.’
Karlo knelt down by the bloody corpse too, slowly nodding to himself. ‘Whoever did this knew what he was doing. This skin wasn’t pulled off or hacked off by some amateur.’ He looked at Jakob. ‘This man’s skin was removed by someone who has been doing it for years. It’s routine work. Smooth, clean cuts. If we had the skin, I’m sure we would find that it was intact and without holes. Ready to be tanned.’ He looked down. ‘Pardon my choice of words, but that’s what it looks like.’
Jakob felt a shiver down his spine. The skinless face stared at him. The bared teeth. The holes that had once been the nose. The big, staring eyes. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘But isn’t it unusual for a hunter to be that good at skinning?’
Karlo nodded. ‘It is. Every hunter knows how to do it, but most regard it as women’s work.’
Jakob sighed. ‘So all this was done by a steady hand, someone completely unaffected by death?’
‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ Karlo said. ‘But it’s good, solid work. They’ve even left the skin behind on the victim’s hands and feet.’ He looked at Jakob again. ‘When this man was flayed, he was nothing but a dead seal in the killer’s hands.’
Jakob was still staring at the corpse’s raw face. ‘When we leave, would you please ask if anyone has seen this man’s daughter today?’
Karlo got up from the floor and nodded. ‘As far as I know, the rest of the family is with one of the wife’s sisters. She lives right over there, in Block 6. I can follow it up if you want me to?’
‘Yes, please, and I’ll deal with the report.’ Jakob looked through the windows across Store Slette, which was not only covered by snow, but also hidden by heavy clouds and shadows from the feeble setting sun.
21
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee spread like life in a fjord valley in the summer. Jakob looked up from his report and spotted Lisbeth, who had just entered with a tray filled with steaming mugs.
‘I thought you boys could do with some afternoon coffee—am I right?’
Jakob looked around. There were five of them in the office. Him, Karlo, Benno, Fransen and Storm. A couple of the others had gone out with the police boat, and one was dealing with a domestic dispute at one of the blocks.
As always, Benno jumped up like a peacock when Lisbeth entered the room, but she was rarely impressed by his preening. Her trips always ended at Jakob’s desk, after she’d cut Benno down to size with a few cheeky but devastating remarks.