“It feels almost disloyal to talk about.” He took off his glasses, set them carefully in his lap, and rubbed his face. For a moment he sat, lost in his own thoughts, then he put the glasses back on. “Malthe had challenges with admin because he took the students’ interpersonal relationship issues too seriously. Teenagers can be really emotional, and they should be permitted to express that, but adults don’t need to keep tabs on all their moods. Lis was trying to teach Malthe that. You need to support them but also know when to act and when not to. Sometimes you just need to let them figure things out on their own.”

“Do you mean the trouble with Victor Dreyer-Hoff?”

“Well…” Robert turned his palms upward in a dismissive gesture. “Of course that played a part in their conversations, but lately there was something else bothering Malthe, something even more serious. He and Lis talked after school as recently as Thursday, because Malthe suspected that a student had been sexually abused by a family member. He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.”

Jeppe’s stomach did a somersault.

“Did Lis say which student was being abused?”

“No, Lis is very discreet. I don’t know what she advised Malthe to do, either, but I’m sure she urged him to be level-headed. You need to be careful in cases like that. The story really got to her, though. I could tell that.”

And now she was dead. Malthe had asked Lis for advice on Thursday. He was murdered on Friday, and she fell in front of a train at Nørreport Station the following Tuesday.

“Well, we don’t want to take up any more of your time.” Jeppe got to his feet. “Thank you so much for talking to us. We’re really very sorry about your wife.”

“We had plans to visit Malta this summer, to see Valletta and the Order of St. John’s palaces,” Robert said, raising his chin bravely. “But now that’s off, of course.”

He walked them to the blue door and shook their hands before closing it softly behind them.

Jeppe and Anette walked to their car in silence.

Not until they hit the highway back to Copenhagen did Anette speak.

“Whoa, he was so sad,” she blurted out. “That poor guy! It really got to me, seeing him like that.… Anyway, where should I drop you off?”

“At headquarters. Larsen asked me to come in. Are you coming with me or going home?”

Anette sped up, overtaking a Volvo on the inner roadway.

“Home, if that’s okay with you. Maybe I’ll just swing by Malthe Sæther’s apartment first. I want to see it for myself.”

“You just refuse to trust that the rest of us are doing our jobs right?” Jeppe laughed. “And, hey, aren’t you done with that gum yet?”