The Dinosaur Feather

up and down.
    It was nearly over. All she had left to do was to meet with Professor Freeman tomorrow.

CHAPTER 17
     
    When Søren arrived at the Natural History Museum, Anna had vanished. He had been driving to Copenhagen when she called and his blood had turned to ice.
    ‘
Help me
,’ she had said. He could hear her breathing heavily. ‘
My friend Troels killed Johannes. He’s here. In the Whale Room at the museum. I’ve tied him to a bench. But I have to go now
.’ Then she had hung up. Søren called Bellahøj police station for back-up and accelerated. A patrol car with two officers reached the museum at the same time as him. He told them what little he knew as they raced up the stairs. ‘The Whale Room?’ he shouted to the young woman behind the counter. She pointed dutifully to the lift. When they reached the fourth floor, they ran through the foyer and into a large room. A whale was mounted on the wall, several people had gathered and it was mayhem.
    Søren pushed through the crowd. The man he had seen on the poster outside Magasin was sitting on a bench. He must be Troels. Søren was astonished. Troels was pulling and yanking his left arm, which was tied to the back of the bench. His wrist was bleeding and he snorted like a wild animal.
    ‘Sit still,’ Søren ordered him. Troels refused.
    ‘Bloody well sit still,’ Søren thundered.
    Troels turned his head and sent Søren a furious stare. His eyes were bloodshot. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he kicked Søren’s shin with his boot. Søren hobbled out of the way and let his colleagues take over.
    ‘Now calm down,’ one of them said. The other cut the cable ties and handcuffed Troels.
    ‘What’s your name, apart from Troels?’ Søren said, amicably, limping closer.
    ‘Not fucking telling you, pig.’ Troels scowled.
    ‘Where is Anna?’ Søren asked him instead. Troels’s eyes flashed.
    ‘I’ll kill her when I see her.’
    ‘Of course you will,’ Søren said, humouring him. ‘It’s 3.22 p.m. and I’m arresting you and charging you with . . . assaulting a police officer.’ Søren was aware that his colleagues were looking at him, but he ignored them. In a few hours, when he had more information, he would charge Troels with Johannes’s murder.
    ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you may later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,’ he added. The light in Troels’s eyes changed; he opened and closed his mouth, then he accepted the situation. ‘Take him to the station,’ Søren ordered his colleagues. ‘I’ll follow shortly.’
    Søren went through the museum, but Anna was nowhere to be found. He called her several times with only a minute’s interval, but she didn’t reply. Finally, he left a message tellingher he wasn’t prepared to run around the museum looking for her and expected her to call him as soon as possible. He thanked her for making a citizen’s arrest and requested a proper explanation. As soon as possible, he emphasised.
    At five thirty Søren still hadn’t heard from Anna. He sat in his office debating his options. He had spent two hours trying to get Troels to tell him his surname. Troels refused. In the end, Søren had telephoned Stella Marie Frederiksen. She was visiting friends, but agreed to take a taxi to the police station. She spent fifteen minutes there, looked at Troels through a one-way mirror and confirmed that it was him. No doubt about it. She also provided Søren with a guest list for the Red Mask on 7 September. Troels’s full name would be on it. Søren scanned it, but was none the wiser. There were two guests by the name of Troels. One called Vedsegaard, the other Nielsen. He scratched his head and looked at the clock.
    Tick tock.
    He ate a sandwich.
    He wrote a report.
    He stared out into the darkness, but couldn’t see past his own reflection.
    When Anna finally returned his call, his nerves were twitching.
    ‘Where are you?’ he practically shouted when she said her name.
    ‘At home now,’ she said, calmly. Søren relaxed.
    ‘It’s Vedsegaard,’ Anna confirmed, glumly, in response to Søren’s question. ‘He was my best friend . . . when I waslittle. I promise to explain it all another time. I’m sorry for running off.’
    Søren underlined the name
Troels Vedsegaard
.
    ‘He confessed,’ Anna said.
    ‘I assumed so, since you arrested him.’ Søren