The Dinosaur Feather

said: ‘Please would you get Henrik for me? If he’s not busy, we’ll go to Johannes Trøjborg’s home in half an hour. I’ve got to speak to him.’
    Linda nodded.
    ‘And Dr Tybjerg?’ Søren asked, feeling weary now.
    ‘No luck there either,’ Linda said. ‘Answering machine at the university, no reply to e-mails, and when I tried his mobile, I got a recorded message telling me the number was no longer in service.’
    ‘Oh,’ Søren said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t it go to answer when you called it the other day?’
    ‘Yes, it did,’ Linda confirmed, ‘and when I called the telephone company, they informed me that Dr Tybjerg’s mobile had been cut off because he hadn’t paid his bills. They had sent three reminders.’
    Søren nodded and turned to enter his office.
    ‘I nearly had a row with them,’ Linda added. ‘Imagine, they cut off his mobile because he owed them 209 kroner. Petty, don’t you think?’
    ‘Rules are rules,’ Søren said.
    ‘Yes, but even so. Such a tiny amount. I think that’s mean.’
    ‘Just as well you work for the police and not for the telephone company, then. Your generosity would soon bankruptthem.’ He had an idea and looked at Linda. ‘Tell me, did we ever check his address with the National Register of Persons?’
    ‘You mean: did
I
ever check it?’ She sent him a teasing look. ‘I did. It’s twenty-six Mågevej, second floor flat in northwest Copenhagen.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Søren said and went into his office. A moment later he stuck his head around the door.
    ‘I think I’ll take a rain check on the pastries,’ he said. He was starting to see parasites everywhere.
    Less than thirty minutes later there was a knock on his door and Sten appeared.
    ‘Am I interrupting you?’
    ‘No, come in.’
    Sten closed the door behind him. ‘I’ve finally ploughed through Johannes Trøjborg’s e-mails. There was a lot of them.’ Sten took a seat opposite Søren’s desk.
    ‘We already knew he was having a row with Helland from Helland’s computer, but . . .’ Sten flicked through a pile of papers. ‘Yeah, here it is. It would appear that Lars Helland wasn’t the only person at the Department of Cell Biology and Comparative Zoology to receive mysterious e-mails.’
    Søren leaned forward, intrigued now.
    ‘Someone calling himself
YourGuy
sent three e-mails to Johannes in the last four weeks.’ Sten read aloud from a sheet:
    ‘
I want to see you again. Don’t you get it? Call me!
And the next one:
I’m crazy about you. I’m beside myself with desire because of what you let me do to you. Call me!
’ Søren and Sten exchanged knowing glances. Sten read on:
    ‘
Hi Jo. I crossed a line the other day. Sorry. I lost the plot because you’re so gorgeous. I’ve tried getting hold of you all week, but you won’t come to the door or take my calls. I respect that you don’t want to, but can we talk, please?
’ Sten lowered the sheet.
    Søren drummed his fingers on the table and looked out of the window.
    ‘What can I say,’ he said eventually. ‘Some kind of gay fling?’
    ‘Take a look at this,’ Sten said as if he hadn’t heard Søren, and handed him a printout of a photograph. It showed an androgynous person, which Søren took to be a man due to the flatness of the chest behind the corset. The hair was scraped back in oily furrows, the clothes were tight-fitting black leather and he wore fishnet stockings. The lips were painted scarlet and the lipstick was smeared on one side, as if the lips were bleeding or had just been kissed. The eye make-up was theatrical. Thick lines of kohl and a decorative spider’s web spread its silvery threads towards the left temple.
    ‘Who’s that?’ Søren asked.
    ‘I’m convinced it’s Johannes,’ Sten replied. And now Søren could see it too. In a flash, Johannes’s features grew visible behind the make-up. Søren gasped.
    ‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ he said.
    ‘Johannes is a goth,’ Sten explained.
    ‘A goth?’ Søren frowned.
    ‘It’s a subculture. I read about it on the Internet. Men and women worshipping the darkness and dressing up as everything from Count Dracula to dominatrices in leather corsets. They love black and white make-up, and they have tonnes of piercings. The photo is from the Red Mask, which appears tobe the most active goth club in Copenhagen. The club is open the first Friday of every month, and as far as I can see, its fame extends beyond Denmark. Photos are always