Heloise still didn’t know him well enough to rule out his possible involvement. The last few weeks had proved that she didn’t know him that well. It was as if suddenly her life was full of criminals and violent offenders.

Her eyes fell on a mother duck that was heading for the bridge to find shelter from the rain with her ducklings. One of the little yellowish-brown balls of feathers had fallen behind and was now slogging across the water to catch up to the flock.

What was it that Anna was trying to tell her?

What was it that she wanted her to see?

In one way or another, all of the pieces seemed to come from the same puzzle, but none of the pieces Heloise had found so far fit together.

She stood there until the duckling had made it safely to its mother. Then she turned around and headed for the garden’s east gate.

Schäfer found Lisa Augustin alone in their office at police headquarters. She was sitting on the floor leaning against the wood-chip-wallpapered wall behind her as she looked at a document she was holding in her hands. Papers were spread across the floor in front of her, and Schäfer could see that she had underlined things, added comments, and drawn squiggles on several of the pages.

“Where are Bro and Bertelsen?” he asked.

August glanced up briefly and said, “They went over to Forensic Unit.” Then her eyes returned to the document in her hands.

“What are they doing there?” Schäfer pulled off his rain-soaked suede jacket and tossed it over the back of his desk chair. He sat down heavily and swiveled the seat from side to side as he waited, watching Augustin.

“That print from the shoe sole that was lifted off the toilet seat on Amager Strandvej, you know?”

“What about it?”

“It doesn’t match the victim’s size.”

Schäfer nodded. “That’s not a surprise. What else did they say?”

“That it’s from a Puma sneaker, size seven. Ulrich Andersson wore a size eleven. I haven’t heard anything else.”

Schäfer didn’t say anything.

“Are you okay?” Augustin asked, pushing her reading glasses up on top of her head. “You look a little grumpy.”

Schäfer just grunted in response.

“Did you get ahold of Mossing?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Was he home?”

“No, down at the marina. Man, the rich really know how to live, huh?”

Augustin nodded. “What did he say?”

“The usual: nothing. He denied knowing anything about anything and referred me to his lawyer. But he’s lying. I know he’s lying.”

They were quiet for a moment, and then Schäfer nodded to Augustin. “What about you? What are you up to?”

“I’m just looking at the letters from Anna Kiel.” She pointed to the copies in front of her.

“Have you managed to make any sense of them?”