Glenda

“What?” Glenda pretended that she didn’t understand the question. How can she explain why she ran in her dressing gown through Copenhagen at night and ended up right next to a corpse? What will they think if they find out that blackness has been creeping behind her, and that there are ghosts in the house?

— What did you do at the crime scene?

Glenda picked up her mug of tea and took a long sip through pursed lips, obviously stalling for time. What can you think of to say to a fairly straightforward question? Or maybe the truth?

— I didn’t know that Jornas was killed. The night before we had a fight and I was left alone at home. Unable to fight the grief, I went out into the fresh air for a walk. And four blocks later I saw him completely by accident.

Iver and Jack looked at each other. Their faces expressed either disbelief, or understanding that both had a common train of thought, or simply fatigue from the lies of witnesses.

“Glenda,” the taller cop began softly. — If you don’t tell the truth to us, the people who can help you, then other investigators will simply make you a suspect.

“But I’m telling the truth,” the girl begged.

— Stop it! — Iver got angry, but lowered his voice again. “You didn’t even lock the door behind you.” It wasn't like taking a walk before bed. Plus, you were barefoot.

Then Glenda realized that the cops had already been to her house, perhaps there was no ghost there anymore, but there was also no evidence, because she didn’t kill anyone. There is nothing to be afraid of, it’s time to tell it like it is.

— Good good. I didn't go out to get some air. The house that Mr. Holstein kindly sold me, your honorable friend, Mr. Larsen — she emphasized this phrase — turned out to be a den of ghosts.

The men peered into the narrator's face, but did not interrupt.

— There was no one in the house, I heard a scream right in the middle of the hall, and also these damn traffic jams.

— Traffic jams?

— Yes, they took off at the most inopportune moment. And in complete darkness I became scared. Headlong, I rushed wherever my eyes looked. That's all — “They have nothing to know about the dying lights, they don’t concern murder.” “It’s like someone kicked me out of the house so I could be in the right place at the right time.”

— It's clear. — Jack concluded and called Iver aside. They talked about something, and Jack went into the back office.

Ten minutes later, a couple more guys in uniform arrived, it looked like ordinary lieutenants, handed something in a bag to Iver, saluted and left.

— These are your things and keys, I asked you to take them from your house so that you have something to wear for the first time?

— First time? I will never return to that house again, everything had to be taken away.

“You’re not going to sell a house just because of…” the man with the major’s shoulder straps stopped for a while.

"Oh no. He doesn't dare talk to me about my mental health! I’m out of my mind, you can find out from that old Jew, he himself said that there are ghosts in the house.”

Glenda silently grabbed the bag with her things and went to the toilet so demonstratively that Iver even chuckled out loud.

Khaki trousers with a brown leather belt went perfectly with a burgundy jumper from Ruban, and moccasins kept the feet warm instead of terrible off-brand trainers. Glenda felt fit again. She liked herself better this way, confident, rich and beautiful. And not at all crazy, she is in full bloom and will now show this criminologist how to investigate murders. Having gathered her hair into a ponytail and adding a little blush, Glenda went out again to the police.

— Bro, take more money with you. Let’s get used to the role of clients of the damn brothels.” Iver turned to Glenda and it’s impossible to say that he wasn’t surprised. Opening his mouth in surprise, he quickly came to his senses and turned to Jack again: “Why are you digging around there?” Let's go already!

— I'm going with you.

— No, I’ll take you to my home, it’s on the way to our establishment, and then we’ll do it ourselves. Tomorrow you will join the interrogation of the manager of the Rigshospitalete.

— I dont want to sleep. I'm going with you, period.

— Start thdriving — Jack turned on, seeing his partner boiling. “We could use some help from women if their boys are not gay.”

Iver muttered something displeased under his breath, but did not protest further. This is usually done by a boss who has been persuaded by his subordinates with the help of whims and sound ideas at the same time.

Satisfied, Glenda jumped into a government-issued BMW with license plates, and realized with horror that her boyfriend had died a couple of hours ago, and she was not grieving at all. “Such callousness is not respected by the people; no one likes arrogant bitches who quickly forget their love. How can you not be heartbroken after the death of the guy you imagined as your husband three hours ago? Cold bitch. That's who I am. Poor, poor Jornas.”

Chapter 5