Free Three Dog Night by Elsebeth Egholm Page B

revealed a big gap between her front teeth. He took all this in before she and her colleague zipped each other up at the back and worked together donning their diving hoods. A yellow neck ring had to be attached and then a rubber hood was folded over it – to prevent water from seeping in, he guessed. The only diving he had ever done was snorkelling, and that was in the Mediterranean on holiday in Malta, in somewhat warmer waters.
    He could see they were getting ready to go back out after their break in the diving truck. They climbed into the rubber dinghy and were taken out to the basin, where even the fishing boats appeared to be frozen solid. He stood with his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, freezing and desperate for some coffee, as the two divers in the boat fell backwards into the icy water. Mark shuddered. It wasn’t often he counted himself lucky because of his job, but this was one of those occasions.
    â€˜Coffee?’
    Anna Bagger proffered a double-wall cup, with hot steam rising from it like a pillar.
    â€˜Thank you.’
    He took the cup and raised it to his mouth. The contrast between the freezing temperature and the hot coffee was like an electric shock to his lips.
    â€˜So you were transferred here from the Copenhagen Homicide Division. Why?’
    He looked at her through the steam.
    â€˜It’s a long story.’
    He’d previously thought one single misplaced stroke in the portrait of Anna Bagger would have tipped the balance. Seen in isolation, her jaw was a little too square and her face a little too long, her eyes a little too big and her lower lip a little too full. And yet she was an attractive woman, possibly because she wanted to be and did something about it, with make-up, clothes and the way she moved. This was how some women could create an illusion.
    â€˜It’s a somewhat unusual career choice,’ she said. ‘So you know a lot of people around here, do you?’
    He nodded. He probably did.
    She tilted her head.
    â€˜You’ve lost weight since I last saw you. Are you all right?’
    In a recess of his mind he wondered whether she bore him a grudge, whether in her heart of hearts she was his friend or his enemy.
    â€˜I’m fine. And you?’
    She straightened, as if bracing herself. He didn’t know what for.
    â€˜I don’t suppose divorces are ever much fun. Mine certainly wasn’t.’
    She’d never referred to her marriage with much enthusiasm, but that probably wasn’t the done thing with potential lovers. Mark didn’t want to pry, so he returned to the case.
    â€˜Did you find that Boutrup?’
    She stood for a while scrutinising him, as if she had X-ray eyes, he thought. Then she shook her head.
    â€˜As you know, we had to start looking for a body here in the harbour, so he was given a bit more slack than planned. But I’ve checked him out.’
    â€˜And?’
    â€˜He’s an ex-con. Like Ramses. They were in prison together.’
    She looked across the harbour, to where the dinghy was skirting the edge. Two handlers and their dogs were busy searching the buildings leading down to the dock itself. The dogs looked keen, but neither of them seemed to have a scent.
    â€˜But you don’t think he’s the killer?’
    â€˜Take it easy, Mark. We’re not eliminating anyone or anything at this stage.’
    He drank some more coffee, this time with more care.
    â€˜What was he in for?’
    Her blue eyes blinked in the cold.
    â€˜I thought you were the local cop with your ear to the ground.’
    â€˜Give over, Anna.’
    â€˜Involuntary manslaughter. A trespasser shot his dog. Boutrup shot him with a hunting rifle.’
    Mark sighed. He was a detective, too. He’d learned everything he knew during the Copenhagen gang wars, even though he was only thirty-seven. How had he ended up in a situation where his ex-student and lover was his boss?
    â€˜Let me have a word