“I was closing up the shop.” She pointed down at the glass storefront of her cellar shop, which displayed an overwhelming hodgepodge of African arts and crafts. “It was a little before seven. I was bringing in the pots, when he came down and got his bike.”

“Would you mind showing me the bike room, so we can see if it’s there now?”

The woman shrugged and pulled out a bunch of keys. She opened a door next to her shop and led Anette first down a hallway to the backyard and then into a low-ceilinged basement room full of bicycles. She looked around.

“It’s not here.”

“Okay, thank you. Did you talk to him when you saw him last Friday?”

“We chatted a bit, not that much. He wasn’t as talkative as he usually is.” She reached for something inside her poncho and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes. Strangely enough, this time the sight didn’t elicit any craving in Anette.

“I remember asking him if he shouldn’t be wearing a proper jacket. He was dressed in one of those hoodies, and I was already covered in goose bumps myself. But he didn’t think it was necessary. He was only going to Østerbro.”

The skin on Anette’s neck crawled up toward her ears.

CHAPTER 28

The spring light faded over Sydhavn, to be replaced by fluorescent tube lights on the ceilings of those few offices that still held workers. Jeppe regarded the transformation and slid his hand along the window frame. Who ever invented windows that don’t open? In trains and buses and office buildings like this one. Sealed rooms with a view of a world that can’t be reached and air that can’t be breathed. Behind him Thomas Larsen was hacking away on his computer keyboard, the clicking sounds only adding to Jeppe’s discomfort. An artificial breeze from the air-circulation system blew gently on the back of his head and he felt a spasm of claustrophobia followed by a vehement aversion to his new workspace.

His cell phone rang, and he answered the call without taking his eyes off the power plant at the end of the street.

“Hi, Kørner,” Anette yelled. She was always a loud talker, but even more so when she was excited about something. “I just left Malthe Sæther’s apartment. He rode his bike to Østerbro Friday night at about seven p.m. The woman who runs the shop next door chatted with him on the street as he was leaving.”

“Well, that fits with the information from the cell signal. Did you find anything else in the apartment? A bloody chain saw the rest of us overlooked?”

Anette sighed. “Go fuck yourself. Oh, and have a good evening!”

“You too, Werner. Say hi to everyone at home!”

Jeppe turned to Thomas Larsen, who was hunched over his laptop.