“Their house burned down?”
“Yes. It was the electricity, some old stuff, and a fire started at night. The German got the grandchild out. The two others perished inside.”
“So he was left alone with the child?”
“Yes, and a burned home. The insurance paid a little but he had to build most of it up himself, even though we helped a little. He became strange then too. It was as if he no longer understood what was going on. The eastern front he managed, but not the fire.”
“So the boy lived alone with his grandfather.”
“Yes, until 1975 or 1976 and then he died. The German, that is, and then the county took the boy but at that point he was basically grown. Or, wait a little now, he went down to some relatives in Germany.”
Simonsen forced himself to take a sip of the beer. The old man noticed his aversion.
“If you don’t like it, let it be. I’ll give it to Klods-Hans. He knows what’s good.”
He pointed to the dog, who looked up lazily without getting to his feet. Simonsen put the bottle down on the bench. Then he said, “If I wanted to look up Andreas Linke in the church records, who should I go to?”
“Go back to Brugs-Katrine. You talked to her when you were buying beer. She is the reserve deacon, church servant, gardener, choir, and whatever else she can get hold of. She’ll be happy to help you when she gets back. Right now she’s busy helping the retired officer in the forest.”
“The retired officer?”
“Yes, he was also here yesterday. Nice man. They just walked past along the road. For a chief detective inspector you don’t seem very observant. Didn’t you see them? He must be persuasive because she’s not one to take walks.” The old man grinned and his tone was teasing, but not mean-spirited. Then he added, “Out here in the country, we read papers too, you know, Mr. Simonsen.”
Simonsen stood up. The man gave him directions to get up to the forest. The church records could wait. The dog also got to his feet. There was beer waiting for him.
Simonsen weaved in among the beech trees of Ullerløse forest. The terrain sloped up and the forest floor was soft with fallen wet leaves that were heavy to walk in, and after only a short while he was panting like a bellows. He slowed his pace. In front of him to the left in a glade he caught sight of a person with his back to him; he changed his direction and walked toward him. When he was a few meters away, he loudly made his presence known so that he wouldn’t cause any unnecessary shock.
Kasper Planck straightened up without turning around. “Quit your shouting, I’m not deaf.”
“No, and you look better all around, actually. What happened to your fatigue and your failing health?”
“God’s nature does an old man good.”
Planck kicked a tree stump and pointed his toe at two others close-by. “It was here it started. Or almost here. Frank had been the first, but it took place in the barn. Allan joined later and he was a real outdoorsman. But you must know that. I saw you talking with the old man.”
“Apparently not thoroughly enough.”
“No, that has always been your problem. You don’t give yourself the necessary amount of time, and you never learn.”
Simonsen felt a sting of irritation.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Planck didn’t comment on this. He said, “They were felled in the winter of 1984 and later nicely cut up and everything. Four large beech trees in their prime. The whole countryside heard about it, but apparently no one felt it necessary to alert the police or forest ranger. An outhouse was set on fire and that was also not reported.”
“It must have been terrible for him. How long did it go on, do you think?”
“Five-six years. The grandfather couldn’t really watch him. They say he was strange.”
“Everyone knew and no one did anything about it?”
It was a question. Planck was apparently more familiar with the reaction patterns of the village and their small hidden secrets.
“Knew is maybe too strange a word, but in such a small town you can’t so much as fart in a storm without your neighbor holding his nose, so some of them have surely guessed. I mean, there were times that the poor boy couldn’t even walk normally but it took several beers before the old man was willing to talk about it. By the way, that beer tastes awful, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it’s unusually bad, but the poor boy-I mean, Climber-he returned to revenge himself on the past? At least physically, you could say.”
Simonsen pointed to the tree stumps all around. “Well, what’s strange is that he didn’t, if the old man is to be believed. He paid others to do it. They brought a map where the trees were marked. He couldn’t stand to come back himself.”
Simonsen stared thoughtfully out into the air. Then he said, “What brought you up here?”
“The killing of the brothers was personal. That was the starting point, and with a lot of hard thinking you can get far. Suddenly the truth shines through. Like a falling angel that stands on your doorstep one night and illuminates your mind. And when the puzzle has been laid it gives meaning to many other things.”
This was a little too lofty for Simonsen’s taste, not to say incomprehensible.
“Can’t you be a little more down-to-earth?”
“It was because the hot-dog vendor absolutely had to have five tons of copper beech in the head after all life had been beaten out of him. Our good man Andreas had to raise himself back up by the tree where he had been taken down. And his big brother had to dangle in the middle and witness the executions of his traveling companions.”
“Andreas Linke, you know the name. Have you been in the church records?”
Planck patted his coat pocket. “Brugs-Katrine gave me a photocopy but I’m assuming that all your electronic brains also have spit out the name. Where does he live now? You’re bringing him in, aren’t you?”
Simonsen hesitated. They started to walk back to the village. Then he said, “There are certain problems. In the citizen’s registry he is down as having emigrated about half a year ago, and if I put out a search for him I risk having the public work against me. I think I’ll keep him to myself for a couple of days and see if your idea with the Dagbladet bears any fruit. If it does, I may be able to pick him up quietly.”
Planck stopped and looked suspiciously at his former employee. “Be careful, Simon. We’ve both seen this before and it’s thin ice you’re stepping on. He isn’t yours and your explanations sound a bit thin.”
“Only a couple of days.”
Planck shook his head. “It’s always only a couple of days.”
“I will get him. He’s not going to get away with killing six people and the others won’t either.”
“No, they won’t.”
“If I can’t get a confession with some information that only he and we know, I risk ending up empty-handed. The prosecutor almost laughed in my face when I talked about eventual charges filed against Stig Åge Thorsen, and Erik Mørk is nowhere near an arrest.”
“Yes, it’s not easy living in a constitutional state, but we should be able to pin those two and it is just a question of time and you know that very well.”
“Climber also has to be put away. He can’t be allowed to go free.”
“Of course he can’t, that’s not what I’m saying. This is not about him. This is about you.”
Simonsen filled his mouth with Piratos. They walked for a little while, then Planck said, “If I was your boss I would take you off this case and send you home.”