The Dinosaur Feather (28 page)

Søren nodded and got into his car. He sat there for a while, trying to calm down.

Søren drove down Falkoner Allé toward Nørrebro with a renewed sense of purpose. After crossing Ågade, he turned right and parked behind Anna’s block. He walked around to the front door and rang the bell. For a long time. No reply. He rang the next-door neighbor. Time passed, then he heard an elderly voice.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Snedker?” Søren said, reading the name next to the bell. “I’m a police officer. Please will you let me in?”

He heard a noise and thought she was opening the door, but she appeared to have had second thoughts because she replied: “And why would I believe you?”

Søren was taken aback. “Er, no why would you?” he said. Now what? The intercom hissed again.

“If you’re the chap who has been waiting for Anna,” the old voice snapped, “then I suggest you run back home to your mommy. We’re not interested in whatever garbage you’re peddling, or whatever it is you want. Be off with you.” She hung up and Søren was left standing there. He took a few steps back and looked up at the building. On the fourth floor, opposite where Anna’s apartment had to be located, he saw an old lady in the window. She was watching him and when he looked back at her, she waved. He pressed the bell again.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the old lady said when she answered. “And don’t think I’m stupid enough to let in a stranger just because he claims to be a police officer.”

“Mrs. Snedker,” Søren said with all the authority he could muster, “I’m going to give you a telephone number and you’ll call directory enquiries and find out whose it is. You’ll be told that it’s the duty officer at Bellahøj police station. Then you wait two minutes before you call the duty officer and ask him if he thinks it’s a good idea to let in a man who calls himself Søren Marhauge who claims to be a policeman, and if he says yes, you let me in, all right? I’ll call them right now and give them my location. Do you follow?”

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” she said cheekily. “I promise you, sir, that I wasn’t. I was born long before you were even a twinkle in your mother’s eye.”

Søren smiled. “Right, we have a deal, then.”

She hung up. Søren called the duty officer and four minutes later, he had a call back to say his identity had been confirmed. A Maggie Snedker, born February 26, 1919, had just called. She had been highly suspicious, but they had reached an agreement in the end. The duty officer sounded amused. The intercom crackled and Søren was buzzed into the stairwell.

Mrs. Snedker was waiting on the landing. Her arms were folded across her chest and she looked fierce, but Søren detected an element of teasing in the corner of her eyes.

“You’re a long way up, Mrs. Snedker,” he panted, holding out his badge.

“You’re right. The air up here is too thin for weaklings like you.” She scrutinized his badge. “What do you want?”

“I urgently need to get ahold of your neighbor, Anna Bella Nor, and she won’t open her door or answer her telephone.”

“Now why wouldn’t Anna open her door to a nice cop such as yourself?” the old lady asked. She was elegantly dressed and had long red nails. He couldn’t believe she was over eighty. Her hair was thick, curly, and very soft, and Søren wondered if it might be a wig. Elvira’s hair had turned silky and fine when she reached her early sixties, and she had had it cut quite short.

“What’s this about?” Mrs. Snedker asked. “That poor girl has suffered enough. First there’s that cad who abandons her and the baby. I’ve no time for him. Lily hadn’t even turned one. What a charlatan. Anna’s a good girl, she really is. But she’s unhappy. And when you’re very sad, you put on a brave face. She doesn’t fool me, though. So, what do you want?” The old lady’s eyes were as piercing as a nail gun.

“I’m afraid I can’t go into details, but it’s nothing very serious,” he assured her. “You wouldn’t have a spare key?” he tried.

“Of course I have, but I’m certainly not giving it to you.” Mrs. Snedker gave him a stern look; she measured him from head to foot, and he had a strong suspicion she was checking him out.

“Why don’t you join me for a drop of something?” she offered, looking at her watch. “It’s four o’clock and Anna is probably picking up her little munchkin from nursery school, such a cute girl. Can you believe it? Imagine deserting a little thing like that? Anna may not be the easiest woman in the world to live with, but then again, no one ever said living together was meant to be easy, eh? And what about the child? It’s been nearly two years since she last saw her father.” Mrs. Snedker leaned forward as she whispered the last sentence. Søren picked up the scent of a dusty, heavy perfume. Mrs. Snedker turned resolutely on her heel and disappeared inside her apartment.

“Er . . .” Søren began, but she ignored him. He followed her into a dark, rustic-style hallway and into her living room, the likes of which he had never seen. The floor was covered with thick-piled rugs, and there was no space left on the walls. Pictures in heavy gilded frames, plates and photographs, and on the end wall, broken only by the balcony door, there were books from floor to ceiling. A gramophone, which had to be at least fifty years old, sat in between the books. Mrs. Snedker was standing by a low drinks table, pouring a rust-colored liquid into two glasses.

“Ah, there you are.” She sounded delighted.

“I don’t drink while I’m on duty,” Søren said, not very convincingly.

“Nonsense,” she said.

Søren studied an old gun mounted on the wall. The metal was freshly polished and the woodwork was in good condition, but the weapon looked hundreds of years old.

“It used to belong to Count Griffenfeld,” Mrs. Snedker explained. She had followed his eyes. “Stunning example, isn’t it? Right, down the hatch.” She handed him a glass, knocked back her drink and frowned when Søren swallowed only half of his. She went to the window and looked out.

“Oh, look, there they are,” she said, triumphantly. Søren joined her. She was right. A figure, holding a small child by the hand, had just stepped out of a low, black wooden building Mrs. Snedker informed him was Lily’s nursery school. Anna was dragging the child, who was wearing a snowsuit.

“Just time for a little more Dutch courage, my friend. Now what’s that about?” She looked outraged at Søren’s half-full glass. He put it down on the table.

“Listen,” he said. “What did you mean when you said someone had been waiting for Anna?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Snedker said. “I wouldn’t want to force you.” She emptied Søren’s glass. “Well, you see. Twice this week, a man waited for Anna on the landing. Someone she doesn’t know. Or, at any rate, she can’t figure out who it might have been.”

“When exactly was he waiting for her?”

“When? When?” she snapped. “A couple of days ago. I no longer keep track of insignificant events. Two long days ago.” She refilled their glasses, and Søren seriously considered whether alcohol might not be good for you after all. The old lady appeared strong and fearless.

“Please try to remember,” Søren asked. “Was it yesterday? Was it last week?”

“Sorry,” Mrs. Snedker said. “My memory is still on summer time.” She pursed her lips. “Talking about summer time . . . would you mind terribly changing the clock on my video recorder to winter time? While we wait for Anna to drag the little piglet up four flights of stairs? Look, I’ve found the instructions, but that’s where my technical expertise ends.”

Søren plodded obediently after Mrs. Snedker. She handed him a torch and a yellowing booklet. The VCR was from 1981. Søren went down on all fours and started pressing various buttons until the clock was correct.

As he got up, Mrs. Snedker said, “How funny, my memory seems to have returned. I remember it vividly. The first time the man waited was Monday afternoon and the second time was Wednesday evening.” She beamed.

“Last night?”

“No, May, ten years ago,” she teased him. “Of course it was last night! Yesterday, tenth of October.”

“Where was Anna, since he had to wait?”

“How would I know? Up to no good, I expect.”

“And Anna has no idea who he might have been?”

“No, she was convinced it was Johannes, a fellow she shares an office with at the university. Mainly because of his hair color. The man was wearing a hat, but I think some auburn hair stuck out from under it, and I told Anna that, which made her think it was Johannes. But I’m not so sure. I was busy closing my door. It could have been him, but how would I know?” Mrs. Snedker suddenly sounded hurt. “I’m not hired help here, am I?”

“What’s keeping them?” Søren said, suddenly impatient. Even with a toddler in tow they should have been home by now.

“Perhaps it wasn’t them after all?” Mrs. Snedker shrugged.

Søren gave her weary look. “Of course it was,” he said. “They must have gone somewhere else.”

“The supermarket in Falkoner Allé is probably your best bet. Another glass while you wait?”

Søren declined.

“I’ll come back and talk to you later,” he said.

Mrs. Snedker pretended to be terribly flattered. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to buy me a small white loaf?” she called out after him.

Søren spotted Anna and her daughter almost immediately. They were plodding along very slowly and had only just passed the spot where Søren had parked his car. He followed them at a distance and when they crossed Ågade and walked down Falkoner Allé, he crossed to the other side and followed them on the pavement. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but he observed their body language. The child was walking at a snail’s pace. She kept stopping to look at things, and several times she sat down on someone’s doorstep. In one hand she held a soft toy, which she dragged along the muddy pavement. Anna seemed lethargic. Her body language told Søren she needed every ounce of her strength to stay calm. One hundred feet from the supermarket, Lily sat down in the middle of the pavement. Anna pulled her arm. The situation boiled over and Anna stomped off after yelling at Lily so loudly that Søren could almost make out the words. When Anna had almost reached the entrance, she stopped and buried her face in her hands. Lily was still sitting on the pavement, sobbing her little heart out and several passersby threw anxious looks at the toddler. Anna went back and picked Lily up. At first, the child kicked her legs in anger, but Anna whispered something in her ear and the crisis passed. For the time being, at least. Anna carried her daughter inside the supermarket, and Søren crossed the road and entered as well. He waited at the entrance where some sad-looking flowers were hoping to find a buyer and watched Anna put a coin in a shopping cart, remove Lily’s snowsuit, and ease her into the child seat. Their first stop was the bakery at the front, where they bought a snail-shaped pastry for Lily. Anna took off her jacket and beanie and briefly looked up. Søren took a step backward and when he looked out again, Anna and her cart had gone down an aisle. Her face was grimy and her hair flattened and greasy from the wool beanie.

Once they were out of sight, Søren found a basket and started doing his own shopping. He trailed them around the store, keeping a suitable distance. He could hear snippets of their conversation. Lily wanted to get down from the cart. As soon as Anna lifted her down, she ran off. Anna caught her, and Lily laughed out loud. Anna wasn’t laughing. Anna grabbed her firmly to put her back in the child seat. Lily went rigid. The two of them struggled. Søren watched them and felt an urge to pick up the child. The girl was the same size as Maja would have been, Søren imagined. Not that he knew anything about children. Lily looked huge in Anna’s arms, like a wild animal Anna couldn’t control, but Søren knew the child would be tiny in his arms. She would curl up like a mouse and fit perfectly inside his shirt pocket. Together, they could smell funny cheeses in the delicatessen or find a bicycle with training wheels and colored streamers on the handlebars while Mommy did the shopping.

“Now stop it, just stop it, Lily,” Anna screamed. “Do you understand? Or there will be no ice cream for a week, no, a whole month!”

Lily howled and Anna plunked her hard into the body of the cart and stormed off. They stopped at the vegetable section and Anna patted Lily’s cheek to make up. Lily sniffled. Anna hugged her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “All we need now are some potatoes and we’ll be done.”

“Me do it,” Lily yelled.

“No, darling,” Anna said, exhausted. Søren was very close to them now. Anna and Lily both looked dreadful. Tired, red-eyed, and run down, mother and child both. Lily got ready to throw another tantrum, so Anna lifted her out of the cart.

“Okay.” She gave in. “I’ll hold the bag and you put in the potatoes.”

“Lily help Mommy,” Lily insisted.

“Yes, darling, that’s right,” Anna said.

Lily picked up potatoes with both hands and dropped them into the bag.

“Gently,” Anna said.

“Gently,” Lily echoed.

“Gently, I said,” Anna repeated. Lily carried on. There were now ten potatoes in the bag. Lily picked up a large potato with both hands and hurled it into the bag.

“Right, that’s enough,” Anna said, and at that very moment the bag split and the potatoes rolled off in every direction.

“Oh, no,” Anna gasped. Her hands hung limply by her sides. It was all too much. “Now look what you’ve done.”

Lily started crying again.

“Come on, allow me,” Søren said. He put down his basket, which contained a strange mix of groceries. “Let me help you, please?”

Anna straightened up and gave Søren a look of disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” Søren said, innocently.

Anna started picking up the potatoes. “I’m not talking to you,” she snarled, keeping her eyes on the floor. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I don’t want to hear it.” She looked up at Søren and her eyes glowed yellow.

“I’m going to pick up your potatoes,” Søren said. “And then I’m going to carry your groceries and your kid home.”

“Oh no, you’re not,” Anna snarled.

“You bet I am,” Søren said.

“Over my dead body,” Anna said, theatrically.

“Sure, if that’s how you want to do it,” Søren replied, unperturbed.