Henrik took a bite and chewed noisily.

“Was it Malthe Sæther?” Jeppe persisted. “Did you call and arrange to meet him on Friday night?”

The cough was so violent that small pieces of apple flew over the desk. Henrik wiped his mouth, chewed, and coughed again. This time the cough ended in laughter.

“Ah, so that’s the theory, is it?! Look, I haven’t murdered anyone. And why in the world would a high school teacher care what was going on with my business? That’s just ridiculous.”

“Maybe he felt the same natural indignation as your children did over your playing fast and loose with the environment. Or maybe he was blackmailing you.”

The half-eaten apple glistened in Henrik’s hand. He looked at it and then threw it in the trash.

“I’m not even going to comment on that. But since you’ve been reading my private correspondence, I suppose I’ll have to clarify one thing. Even if it disgusts me.” He rubbed his temples. “Kasper has always had a bit of a problem. He plays poker online. It has cost him dearly, his marriage among other things. And he has accrued a sizable gambling debt, two hundred and fifty thousand kroner, to be precise. He came to me a while ago to ask for help.”

“So what did you do?”

“I loaned him money.” Henrik shrugged, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. “But Oscar found out about it and was… indignant. He wanted to tell Iben. I promised Kasper I would talk him down. But my son wasn’t home Friday night, and then the next day he was missing, and we had other things to think about.”

“And Malthe Sæther?” Jeppe asked.

Henrik looked him right in the eye.

“I’ve never talked to that young man other than at parent-teacher meetings. I didn’t have anything against him, and I’m sorry that he’s dead. I can assure you that neither I nor my sons were behind his murder.”

Jeppe watched the broad-shouldered man, who towered behind his lacquered antique desk, and knew that he wasn’t going to get any further without concrete evidence. He couldn’t do a darned thing, and he could tell that Henrik knew it, too.

“Does your office have video surveillance?” Jeppe asked, standing up. “If so, we’d like to review the footage from Friday night.”

“I’ll check with our security service,” Henrik said with an exasperated sigh. “Was there anything else?”

Jeppe stood looking at Henrik, at those burly features and dark eyes, regarding him frankly.

“That’s all. Thanks.”

He left the office and nodded to the woman in the linen suit, who was now standing under the chandelier all by herself. On his way to the door, Jeppe’s attention was caught by the drawing over the console table, the portrait of Oscar.