The Hanging: A Thriller Read Free Page B

at six forty-one. The officer on duty … excuse me…”
    He stopped and appeared to reflect on something.
    Simonsen said, “The name is not particularly important. But tell me, those two children. Aren’t they a little on the early side? I thought instruction began at eight o’clock.”
    “That’s correct, and I wondered about that too, so I asked the headmaster. It turns out that the school has a handful of children that meet up long before lessons begin. All schools are familiar with the problem. For some parents it is simply a matter of wanting to save money on morning care, for others it is a pressure they face each day—”
    “Okay, Okay, go on,” Simonsen interrupted.
    “Yes, of course … now where was I?… right. The officer on duty instructed the girl to wait until a teacher arrived, and she then contacted her mother’s workplace in Gentofte. The mother could not be located immediately, but the owner—a Danish resident of Lebanese origins who is somewhat familiar with the girl—decided to drive out to her. He arrived at the school a little before seven A.M. At the gymnasium he chased off eight children who had gathered there. He also called the Gladsaxe police again and at seven thirty-eight A.M. a patrol unit arrived—”
    “At seven thirty-eight!” Simonsen interrupted sharply.
    Pedersen avoided his gaze and adjusted his tie, a movement that his boss was all too familiar with.
    “Cough up that name and tell me what happened.”
    Additional delays were futile, and the name of the officer on duty was produced. Also the explanation.
    “He said that the calls could be deprioritized … since it was clear that they were from ‘Mujafa types.’ Yes, unfortunately that is a direct quote.”
    Simonsen was genuinely incensed.
    “Why are you protecting a thug like that? Do you know him?”
    Pedersen had been blessed with a youthful appearance. Despite his forty years he resembled an overgrown youth, and now he blushed from ear to ear so that his complexion matched his fiery red hair.
    “We were at the police academy together. He and I are in a betting pool together.”
    Simonsen frowned and closed his eyes, but decided not to ask further questions. Pedersen was a good investigator—creative as well as effective—and it was a distinct possibility that he would eventually become the next division chief. But his passion for gambling was well known and there was more than one story circulating about him. One day they would have to have a talk, but not now, and if Pedersen owed the thug some money, he did not want to know it.
    “We’ll drop it. Go on.”
    “The patrol officers called for backup, the school was sealed off, and the children were sent home. The staff were assembled in the teachers’ lounge and we were contacted of course. I arrived around nine A.M. and sent for you, whereupon I informed the police chief as well as rounding up Troulsen, Pauline, and the Countess. Then I got the whole thing under way and called in anything that can crawl: investigators, technicians, forensic specialists, canine units—yes, even Elvang is here.”
    “Why the dogs? What are we looking for?”
    “Ten hands, among other things.”
    “Bloody hell.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Have you been inside the gymnasium?”
    “No, just the doorway. On two different occasions. The first time I felt sick, as I told you. They’re running around in space suits and it looks like a science fiction film, and as soon as I as much as breathed in there I got long lectures about contamination of crime scenes. You can guess who from. It’s completely hysterical.”
    “The head of our Criminal Forensics Division is paid to get hysterical like that. What about Elvang?”
    “Yes, what about Elvang? Obviously he had to wait. And in addition…” He searched for the words.
    “In addition?”
    “He called me a slave to fashion, but that’s not particularly relevant.”
    “No, apart from the fact that he evidently still has some