“That’s five to nine hours after the last confirmed sign of life. So now we need to find out what he did after his phone call with Josephine.” Anette looked at her watch. “Do you mind if I don’t walk to the apartment with you? I think I’d like to pop over and see Mads Teigen at Trekroner. I want to find out how well he actually knows Oscar.”

“Now? By yourself?”

“Don’t worry, Jepsen. I can tackle him with one arm behind my back if it comes down to that.”

“You want me to break the news of Malthe’s death to the Dreyer-Hoffs alone?” Jeppe asked with a sigh.

“I’ll try to be back in time, but if not, I’m sure you can handle it without me.” She got up.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Werner.”

“Never!” Anette winked at him and headed for the door. Jeppe saw her lift her face to smile up at the afternoon sun, and then she disappeared around the corner.

When he turned his head, Josephine was once again standing at the table, her canvas bag over her shoulder. She had touched up her eye makeup and applied fresh powder to her nose.

“Unfortunately my partner can’t join us,” he said, standing up. “Are you ready?”

He escorted her out of the café and onto the sidewalk. For such a small person, she walked extremely fast. He had to pick up his pace to keep up with her. In front of Malthe’s building, Jeppe stopped by the bike racks.

“Can you see his bike?” he asked her.

Josephine scanned the rows of bikes and shook her head.

“It’s a mint-green road bike, but it’s not here.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Jeppe greeted the officer at the front door, and they climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. In the doorway of the apartment they were met by a smiling Clausen, the crime scene technician, who handed them both a pair of latex gloves and blue plastic shoe covers to pull on over their shoes. Josephine clutched the doorframe and looked like she might not be able to let go again. Clausen gently loosened her hand and walked the young woman into the apartment. A few minutes later they came out.

“I can’t do it, I have to get my family to come pack up my things. I never want to come back here!”

In her hand Josephine held a photograph of herself and Malthe. She looked like someone who just wanted to pinch herself and wake up from the horror she was experiencing.

“Does anything in the apartment look strange? Anything out of place?” Jeppe asked.

“It looks the same as always.” Her eyes teared up. “Can I go now? My mother lives in Rødovre. I want to go see her now.”

“Of course. I’ll have an officer drive you. Just make sure we have a way to reach you.”