“As usual, you’re wrong, Sergeant Schäfer.” He turned his key, and the car’s engine started to purr. “My house of cards is very solid, thank you, and now you’ll have to excuse me. I’d like to get home and enjoy the rest of the day with my lovely wife.”

He grasped the door handle to close the door but then stopped.

“How’s it going, by the way, with that chocolate-colored woman of yours? Connie’s her name, right?”

At the sound of her name, Schäfer’s heart skipped a beat.

“Wowza, that’s an exotic beauty you’ve got yourself there,” Mossing continued, whistling in appreciation. “You’d better keep a close eye on her. Somebody might snatch her away from you one day when you’re not looking.”

A primitive rage bubbled up in Schäfer.

“How the hell do you know my wife’s name?” he demanded.

“Oh, I just like to keep informed.” Mossing shrugged nonchalantly.

“You stay the fuck away from her, you understand?” Schäfer rapped on the car’s rear door with his knuckles—a reaction that made Johannes Mossing burst out laughing.

“You have a nice day, Schäfer.” Mossing slammed his door shut and stepped on the gas pedal.

The car pulled away so fast, it kicked up gravel that ricocheted off the finish of the red Porsche Cayenne that was parked next to it in the lot while the dust from the unpaved lot swirled up and enveloped Schäfer.

He stood there watching Mossing until the car turned left onto Rungsted Strandvej and accelerated.

Then he cussed loudly and angrily kicked an empty cola can, sending it bouncing on its way.

CHAPTER

24

THE SKY THAT had been so blue earlier in the day was now covered with a doomsday-like cover of black clouds, which opened up over Copenhagen and flooded several of the city’s lower-lying streets in under twenty minutes. The downpour fell so hard and in such vast quantities that even the most dedicated of atheists had to contemplate hammering some nails into a couple of boards and building an ark—or at least a raft of some sorts.

It was the third torrential rainstorm in only two months, and the city’s sewer system was not up to the tremendous masses of water, which had insurance company assessors working overtime in the basement-level businesses in the city.

Outside, the rain had perforated petals and snapped stems in flower beds. But the rest of the botanical gardens just looked all the healthier, even more lush in the pouring rain: wet, green, and beautiful.

The drops drummed on the glass roof of the Palm House, where the temperature inside was near a hundred degrees. Heloise stripped her wet denim jacket off her shoulders as she walked through the greenhouse, searching for what had brought her here: the Amorphophallus titanum.

The corpse flower.