“Unless there was someone along who forced him to take the pills.” Mosbæk raised an index finger and then asked, “Is your theory that he killed his teacher and ran off?”

“Yes,” Anette replied while Jeppe shook his head.

Mosbæk looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Well, I see that everything is as usual. Don’t forget Occam’s razor, my friends.”

“Is that my cue to ask what it means, so that you can dazzle us with your knowledge?” Anette asked with a sigh.

“Exactly.” Mosbæk smiled. “Occam’s razor is an epistemological justification, which can basically be paraphrased as “the theory based on the fewest possible hypotheses is the best. You should slice right to the bone and find the simplest theory.”

Jeppe looked up at a little swath of sky over their heads, outlined by the gray concrete of the hospital on all sides. The white clouds froze in a snapshot, while happy squeals from children flew through the air like the calls of seagulls.

Like the squeal of train tracks.

“I’m sorry, Mosbæk, but the razor hits a knot.” Jeppe looked at Anette. “A knot by the name of Lis Christensen.”

“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes.

“We have to at least look into it.”

“Uh, is anyone going to tell me who this Lis is?” Mosbæk said, flinging his hands up in the air.

Jeppe got out his cigarettes.

“Lis was hit by a train at four thirty p.m. yesterday while Oscar was lying in Fort Prøvestenen. If she was pushed, there’s no way Oscar could have done it.”

“Am I supposed to understand any of that?” Mosbæk folded his arms over his chest. “And if you light one of those I will personally headbutt you.”

“Sorry, Mosbæk. It’s too complicated to explain properly.” Jeppe put the pack of cigarettes back in his pocket. “You want to give it one more go with Oscar?”

The psychologist sighed, but then nodded.

“I doubt if he’ll remember any more today, though. He’s weak, and his mother doesn’t seem like she’s the best support for him, even if she’s trying.”

“You’re a good guy, Mosbæk!” Anette patted him on the back.

“So are you.” He smiled reluctantly. “Just because I want to coax some information out of him, doesn’t mean I don’t care about his well-being.”

“Great,” Jeppe said. “I’ll call the desk and find out who’s on the train case. Maybe Lis Christensen has some next of kin who will talk to us.”

While Jeppe dialed, he looked at his partner. Somehow she had grown even slimmer in the last few days and her cheekbones had suddenly appeared like unexpected guests on her face. They made her look worn and raw in an almost romantic way, which was completely unlike Anette Werner.