“She’s your secretary now?” Carl put down his coffee cup and pointed toward the door. “The woman sitting out there?”
Marianne Koch was the complete opposite of the woman who had escorted Carl up to the office. She was petite, with thick, curly black hair that seemed fragrant with temptation even from the other side of the desk.
“Why weren’t you still working as Merete Lynggaard’s secretary during the period just before she disappeared?” he asked, after the requisite introductory remarks had been exchanged.
She knitted her brow in thought. “I couldn’t understand it either. Not at the time, at any rate. I was actually quite ticked off at her. But then it came out that she had a disabled brother she was taking care of.”
“And?”
“Well, I thought she had a boyfriend since she was always acting so secretive and was in such a hurry to go home every day.”
He smiled. “Was that what you told her?”
“Yes, it was dumb. I can see that now. But I thought we were closer friends than we really were. You live and learn.” She gave Carl a wry smile, revealing a whole set of dimples. If Assad ever met her, he’d never be able to get on with his life.
“Did anyone ever try to make a pass at her, here at Christiansborg?”
“Oh, yes. Men were always leaving her messages, but there was only one who made a serious attempt.”
“Would you care to reveal who that might be?”
She smiled. She was willing to reveal anything if it pleased her.
“Of course. It was Tage Baggesen.”
“OK, I’ve heard that name before.”
“That would really make him happy to know. I think he’s held chairman positions for the Radical Center Party for at least a thousand years.”
“Have you ever mentioned this to anyone else?”
“Yes, to the police, but they didn’t seem to think it was relevant.”
“Do you?”
She shrugged.
“Were there others?”
“Lots of others, but nobody serious. She took what she needed whenever she was traveling.”
“Are you saying she was an easy lay?”
“Good Lord, is that how you interpret it?” She turned away, trying to suppress her laughter. “No, she definitely was not. But she was no nun either. I just don’t happen to know who she went into the convent with. She never told me.”
“But her preference was for men?”
“Well, put it this way, she always laughed when the gossipmongers hinted otherwise.”
“Could you think of any reason why Merete might want to put her past behind her and create a whole new life?”
“You mean whether she might be sitting out there in Mumbai, soaking up the sun?” Marianne looked indignant.
“Some place where life might be less problematic, yes. Could you picture her doing anything like that?”
“That’s totally absurd. She was extremely conscientious. I know that some people collapse like a house of cards and one fine day they just disappear, but not Merete.” She paused for a moment, looking pensive. “But it’s a lovely thought.” She smiled. “I mean, that Merete might still be alive.”
Carl nodded. Plenty of psychological profiles had been done of Merete Lynggaard just after she disappeared, and all of them had come to the same conclusion. Merete had not simply run away from her old life. Even the tabloids dismissed that possibility.
“Did you ever hear anything about a telegram that she received during her last week here at the castle?” he asked.
“A valentine telegram?”
The question seemed to annoy Marianne. Apparently she was still upset that she hadn’t been part of Merete’s life at the end. “No. The police asked me about that, but just as I told them I have to refer you to Søs Norup, who took over my job.”
He raised his eyebrows as he looked at her. “Are you bitter about that?”
“Of course I am. Wouldn’t you be? We’d worked together for two years without any problem.”
“Do you happen to know where Søs Norup is today?”
She shrugged. Nothing could have interested her less.
“What about this Tage Baggesen? Where can I get in touch with him?”
She drew Carl a little map showing the way to Baggesen’s office. It didn’t look easy to find.
It took Carl nearly half an hour to find his way to the domain of Tage Baggesen and the Radical Center Party, and it was no cakewalk. It was a mystery to him how the hell anybody could work in such a hypocritical environment. At least at police headquarters you knew what you were dealing with, where friends and enemies weren’t afraid to show their true colors, and yet everyone was able to work side by side toward a common goal. Here it was just the opposite. Everybody pretended to be the best of friends, but they were all thinking only of themselves when it came to settling scores. Everything was based on kroner and øre and power, not so much on results. A big man in this place was someone who made the others seem small. Maybe it hadn’t always been this way, but that’s how it was now.
Tage Baggesen was obviously no exception. His role was to safeguard the interests of his distant constituency and handle the traffic policies of his party, but after one look at him, you knew better. He’d already secured himself a nice fat pension, and whatever he took in before he retired was spent on expensive clothes and lucrative investments. Carl looked up at the walls that were covered with certificates from golf tournaments and detailed aerial photographs of Baggesen’s country homes all over Denmark.
He considered asking whether the man might have misunderstood which party he belonged to, but Tage Baggesen disarmed him with a friendly slap on the back and a cordial welcome.
“I suggest that you close the door,” said Carl, pointing to the corridor.
That prompted a jovial squint from Baggesen. A little trick that he used successfully in negotiating new motorways in Holstebro but it had no effect on a deputy detective superintendent whose specialty was bullshit.
“I don’t think we need to do that. I’ve got nothing to hide from my fellow party members,” said Baggesen.
“We’ve heard that you took a great interest in Merete Lynggaard. You sent her a telegram among other things. And it was a valentine telegram at that.”
The man’s complexion turned a bit paler, but his self-confident smile was back.
“A valentine telegram?” he said. “I don’t remember that.”
Carl nodded. The lie shone out of the man’s face. Of course Baggesen remembered. Now Carl had an opportunity to really go to work on the MP.