Malin found a bottle in one of the kitchen cupboards and turned on the lights over the table with a surprised expression, as if she had only just realized that it was getting dark outside. Jeppe sat down at the kitchen table and accepted a beveled glass with a generous helping of rum in it.

“I’m here because a body was found early this morning. Malthe Sæther, a teacher at Zahles School, is dead.”

She drank a sip of her drink and closed her eyes but made no move to say anything.

“That doesn’t surprise you?”

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” she said with a weak smile. “My son is missing. As far as I’m concerned, you could tell me the sun won’t be rising tomorrow.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. That’s terrible, of course. How did it happen?”

Jeppe looked at her. Did she understand the implication of the coincidence of the timing between Malthe’s death and Oscar’s disappearance?

“He was strangled and thrown in a garbage can.”

“No?!” Malin stopped, the glass midair. “Really? That’s horrible.”

“Do you know him—Malthe?” Jeppe took a sip of his rum, ignoring the protests from his stomach.

“I met him once at a parent-teacher conference, but nothing beyond that. He was friendly, young, from somewhere in Jutland.” She shrugged her shoulders to indicate that that was all she knew.

“What did Oscar think of him?”

“I haven’t heard him complain about his teacher, but then Danish is one of his favorite subjects.” She inhaled and held the breath, then shook her head sadly. “Oh dear! What is happening to the world?”

“You didn’t get the impression that they might be friends beyond the usual teacher-student relationship?”

She gave him a strange look.

“Oscar’s never mentioned Malthe to me.”

Jeppe pulled a folder out of his bag and set the drawing from the teacher’s fridge on the table between them.

“Do you recognize this?”

She looked down without leaning forward, as if she wasn’t willing to commit fully.

“No, not at first glance. It looks like one of Oscar’s drawings.”

“I found it on Malthe Sæther’s fridge.”

She drank again but didn’t say anything.

“Do you have any idea how it could have gotten there?”

“Oscar often gives away his drawings. He’s so talented.”

“Yes, it’s very good,” Jeppe said with a brief smile. “But isn’t it an unusual drawing for a high school student to give his teacher? Considering the subject.”

“Isn’t it just having an imagination?” Her blue eyes took on a hostile gleam. “He also likes drawing dragons and monsters.”

“And Oscar didn’t socialize with his teacher outside of school?”

“No!”

There was no mistaking the hostility now.