“Maybe she sat next to you in primary school? In her next letter she’ll probably write that your favorite color is pink and that your favorite food is mac ’n’ cheese.” Bøttger was the only one to laugh at his joke.

“What’s your middle name?” Aagaard asked.

“Eleanor,” Heloise said. “And Anna’s full name is Anna Elisabeth Kiel.”

“Eleanor …” Bøttger said, as if tasting the name.

Heloise held up her hand. “Mogens, I’m warning you!”

“And what’s this amor–something or other …” Aagaard continued. “She says it’s her favorite flower. Does it have something to do with love? Amor?”

“Funny you should ask that,” Heloise said, opening her notebook. “That was my guess too, but no. Amorphophallus titanum—more commonly known as the corpse flower—is pretty much as far as you can get from a plant symbolizing love.”

Aagaard and Bøttger both stared at her.

“Corpse flower?” Bøttger echoed.

“Yes. It’s a giant plant that in the wild grows only in Sumatra in western Indonesia and in a handful of botanical gardens across the world. There’s currently one in Copenhagen. What’s unique about it is that its smell can be easily mistaken for that of a rotting corpse.”

Heloise found her notes from the botanical reference website and read aloud: “ ‘The flower’s purple-red leaves and texture also contribute to the illusion that it’s a piece of decaying meat, and it helps the plant attract carrion beetles, which are lured into the plant where they pollinate it. The literal translation of the plant’s Latin name is “malformed giant penis”—’ ”

Bøttger raised an eyebrow.

“ ‘—and it is sometimes referred to as “the penis flower,” presumably due to its phallic shape. However, because of its revolting stench of death, it’s also known as a corpse flower.’ ”

“Right …” Mogens Bøttger said. “And Anna Kiel’s favorite flower is this corpse-like penis plant?”

“So it would seem.” Heloise nodded.

“Charming,” he said, pushing aside his coffee.

Silence descended upon the room.

“All right,” Aagaard said, “let’s discuss practicalities for a second. Have you told the police what you’ve been sent?”

Heloise shook her head.

“No, fuck the police,” Bøttger exclaimed. “They’ll just snatch the letters from her and tell her to mind her own business.”

“I have to tell them,” Heloise said. “Anna Kiel killed a guy. If I can help the police put her behind bars, I will, regardless of how ‘connected’ she thinks the two of us are.”

“So then why haven’t you called them yet?” Bøttger asked.

“Because you’re right, they’ll probably try to sideline me. But I can’t sit on this much longer. I just have to work out a strategy first, so I don’t lose the story.”