The Dinosaur Feather (12 page)

“Open the door,” he commanded.

There was no sound from inside. Clive went downstairs and watched television. Close to midnight, he fell asleep on the sofa.

Chapter 5

She was unmoved by Professor Helland’s death. Monday evening, as Anna climbed the stairs to her apartment, she was ashamed of her reaction. The apartment was empty and cold, so she turned up the heat and closed the door to Lily’s room. She hated Lily not being there, and without a child in the bed the small colorful comforter seemed creepy. She slumped on the sofa, where she stayed for a long time staring into space. At two o’clock she went to bed, but though she was exhausted she couldn’t fall asleep. She tried thinking about Helland’s wife, who had lost her husband, their daughter, who had lost her father, and about the times Helland had been kind to her. But it was no use. Her heart remained untouched.

Helland had let her down, indirectly belittling her academic work through his lack of engagement and had, in every respect, been a useless supervisor. For nearly a year he had let her flounder. She didn’t care that he was dead, and she almost didn’t care how he had died, either. She tossed and turned, kicking off her blankets. Finally, she got up to go to the bathroom.

After the short preliminary interview, they had been driven to Bellahøj police station in separate cars. Anna with Professor Ewald, Johannes with Professor Jørgensen. Professor Ewald dissolved into tears, her hands were shaking and she kept blowing her nose and fidgeting with a soggy tissue.

Somewhere along the way, Anna snapped: “What are you crying for? You couldn’t stand Helland.”

Professor Ewald looked mortified.

“We worked together for twenty-five years. Lars Helland was a good colleague,” she wailed.

Anna glared at the window, knowing full well that the two officers in the front were watching everything that was going on in the back. Every word, every breath, every revelation. She was also well aware that she wasn’t coming across as terribly sympathetic.

At the station they were interviewed again by the World’s Most Irritating Detective. He appeared to have eaten beets for lunch; Anna noticed a purple stain at the corner of his mouth when it was her turn. She was asked the same questions as before, and she gave the same answers. At one point when she irritably repeated herself and made it clear that she had already answered this question, Søren Marhauge raised his eyebrow a fraction and said: “Please understand that we need to do our job properly. An apparently fit and healthy man has been found dead in his office with his tongue sliced off. Imagine he was your husband or your father. I’m sure you would want us to be extra thorough, wouldn’t you?” His voice was mild but firm, and he held her gaze a little too long. Anna looked away. When she had read through and signed her statement, she was free to go.

It was three o’clock that afternoon when she caught the bus back to the university. She was thinking about Dr. Tybjerg. She was due to meet him in an hour. Did he already know what had happened? Anna had no idea how quickly the news would reach the Natural History Museum, but the parking lot had been teeming with police cars, so it was likely to be soon. Then it struck her that she might be the one who told him. Dr. Tybjerg was bound to be deep inside the collection and wouldn’t have spoken to anyone. A strange sense of dread filled her. She turned her head and looked out the window. The sky was still heavy and gray. Then another thought occurred to her: what if her dissertation defense was canceled? She couldn’t bear to wait any longer. The whole situation was already a nightmare, but if her defense was postponed for weeks, until after Christmas even, she would get seriously depressed and Lily would definitely start calling Cecilie “mom.” Last Friday, Anna had handed in four copies of her dissertation; one for Helland, which was now lying, blood-smeared, in a sealed evidence bag somewhere at the police station, one for Dr. Tybjerg, one for the unknown external examiner from the University of Århus, and one for the University Library for future students to use. Surely the library’s copy could be given to Helland’s replacement? Her defense was in two weeks, so someone already familiar with the subject should be able to gain sufficient understanding of the argument to be able to examine her. How about Johan Fjeldberg? Professor Fjeldberg was a highly respected ornithologist at the Natural History Museum, and she knew that he had worked with Dr. Tybjerg before. When she met with Dr. Tybjerg, she would make him promise that her dissertation defense would go ahead.

There were fewer unfamiliar cars in front of Building 12 now. The door to Professor Helland’s office had been sealed. Professor Ewald and Professor Jørgensen had yet to return, and the whole department felt strangely deserted. Anna shuddered and quickened her pace. She stopped just as she reached the door to her study. It was ajar, and she could hear there was someone inside. A cough was followed by the sound of an office chair rolling across the floor. Anna’s heart started to pound. She was convinced she had locked the door when they left. She heard another small cough, then two footsteps, before the door was opened fully.

“Shit, you scared me!” Anna practically shouted. “How did you get back here so fast?”

Johannes held his head in his hands.

“Christ,” he said, heaving a sigh of relief. “I didn’t even hear you. My interview didn’t take long, so I waited for you, but when you didn’t show, I left.”

Anna gave him a quick hug and sat down in her chair. An echoing silence ensued, then she said, “What the hell’s going on? Was Helland murdered?”

Johannes looked upset.

“I don’t know what to think,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s unreal. Besides, I only got two hours’ sleep last night, which makes it difficult to think clearly. How about you?”

“I don’t care,” she said.

Johannes was shocked.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But that’s how I feel,” she mumbled. She turned halfway in her chair and gave Johannes a lost look. “I feel completely indifferent about his death.” She turned her attention to her screen and started checking her e-mails. Johannes carried on looking at her as though he wanted to say something. An e-mail had arrived from Cecilie, attaching a new photo of Lily. Had Cecilie already picked her up from nursery school? The message had been sent at 2 p.m., which could only mean Cecilie had collected Lily after lunch, even though Anna had asked her several times not to pick up Lily until after three so she wouldn’t miss out on the nap. Anna stared at the photo. Lily was wearing a new dress, and her hair looked somewhat different. Had Cecilie given her a haircut? Anna tried to figure out if the photo was misleading her or whether Cecilie really had snipped off Lily’s baby curls. Johannes was still looking at her.

“Why didn’t you get any sleep last night?” she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen. Lily’s eyes shone as if she couldn’t be happier anywhere but where she was right now. In Granny’s bed with all the picture books Granny had borrowed for her from the library.

Johannes was exhausted; he buried his face in his hands again. The movement made Anna turn around.

“It’s a long story. I met someone at the Red Mask a few weeks ago,” he said, “and we hit it off. No, not in that way or, at least, not as far as I was concerned. And now I’m dealing with a stalker. I haven’t experienced anything like this, ever. E-mails, phone calls in the middle of the night . . .” He smiled, embarrassed. “Anna,” he added, interrupting himself. He swallowed. “I feel really bad . . .”

“But if you’re not attracted to the person, then that’s it. You’ll just have to be honest and—”

“No,” Johannes stopped her. “I feel really bad because I . . .” he looked anguished. “I accidentally told the detective that . . . I don’t know why, but I accidentally told him—”

At that moment Anna’s cell phone rang. She rummaged through her bag, but by the time she found it, it had gone to voice mail. It was Tybjerg’s number, but he left no message. Anna briefly wondered whether he was calling because he had just heard the news. She tossed her cell on the desk and turned her attention back to Johannes.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Johannes looked remorseful.

“I told the detective what you said last spring,” he said, at last. Anna was puzzled.

“What did I say last spring?”

“That you wanted to play pranks on Helland. I told the police that you didn’t like Helland all that much,” Johannes sighed.

Anna stared at him.

“But why?” she said.

Johannes shrugged.

“Because I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I know you’re not involved.” Johannes looked shattered.

“I really—” Anna began. Then her cell rang for the second time. “Damn it,” she fumed and checked the display. It was Dr. Tybjerg again.

“Dr. Tybjerg?” she answered.

“Anna,” Tybjerg whispered. “Have you heard what’s happened?”

Anna gulped.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I have to cancel our meeting today. I can’t . . .” The signal was bad. “You’ll have to come some other time. Next week.”

“Next week?” Anna pushed her chair away from the desk. “You’re not serious? We have to meet, Dr. Tybjerg. I have my dissertation defense, and I want . . .” She took a deep breath and braced herself. “I
have
to have that defense, please,” she insisted. “It’s terrible what’s happened. But my defense has to go ahead, do you understand?”

“I can’t,” he said, and hung up.

Anna turned to Johannes. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t worry,” she said in a thick voice. “You’re not the only who’s let me down.”

“Anna . . .” Johannes pleaded. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said it. And that’s what I told the detective, Marhauge. I told him that you definitely had nothing to do with Helland’s death. I was beside myself.”

Anna got up.

“Where are you going?” Johannes whispered, as she headed for the door.

“To the museum to find Dr. Tybjerg.”

“Does it have to be right now? Can’t you stay for a while? I have to go soon, and I don’t want to leave . . . until we’ve made up.”

“That’s not my problem,” Anna said, icily.

She heard Johannes heave a sigh as she walked down the corridor to the museum.

Dr. Tybjerg could invariably be found in one of three locations: his basement office, the cafeteria, or at the desk below the window by the door to the Vertebrate Collection, measuring bones. She tried the collection first. No sign of Tybjerg. Then she tried the cafeteria. Still no Tybjerg. Some young scientists had gathered around a table. Anna could smell pipe tobacco. That left only his office.

Anna had been puzzled by Tybjerg’s office ever since she first saw it. Dr. Tybjerg was one of the world’s leading dinosaur experts, but his office was small and damp as though the faculty were trying to keep him out of sight. Two walls in the tiny room were filled with books from floor to ceiling, Tybjerg’s desk stood against the third wall, and at the fourth, below the basement windows, was a low display cabinet with dinosaur models and Tybjerg’s own publications. The door to his office was locked, and Anna peered through the window but it was empty and the light was off. She called him on her cell phone. No answer. Finally, she found some scrap paper in a trash can and wrote him a note:
We need to talk. Please call me to arrange a new meeting.
She stuck the note to the door.

At that moment the light in the corridor timed out and she realized just how dark it was. Outside, someone walked past the low basement windows, and she saw a pair of legs wearing red boots, heels slamming against the cobblestones. Her heart raced as she stumbled along the corridor. She found the switch near the door to the stairwell and turned on the light. It was empty and quiet.

Anna and Karen had been friends since they were children. They were in the same class at school and were always together in the village of Brænderup, where they grew up. One day, while roaming around Fødring Forest, they met Troels. A hurricane had raged recently and there were fallen trees everywhere, their roots ripped out of the earth like rotten teeth. The girls had been told not to play in the forest under any circumstances.

They were jumping on the slimy leaves and daring each other to leap into the craters because they had heard stories that the wind might cause the trees to swing back up and crush you. Karen was the braver; she stood right under the roots of a dying tree and clumps of earth sprinkled onto her shoulders as she reached out her hands toward the sky in triumph. They had strayed further and further into the forest, until they remembered a giant ladybug made from the stump of a tree that had been felled. They wondered what might have happened to it during the storm and decided to investigate; after all, they weren’t far away. What if the ladybird had been uprooted and was lying with her legs in the air?

They discovered Troels sitting on the ground, leaning against the ladybird. They didn’t notice him at first. They were busy chatting and patting the ladybird. It wasn’t until Anna climbed up on its wooden wings and had made herself comfortable that she spotted a tuft of hair sticking up on the other side. It belonged to a boy with freckles and a sad look on his face.

Anna said “hi” and tossed him a pine cone, which he caught. The next hour they were absorbed in their play. The darkness came suddenly, as if big buckets of ink had been poured between the trees. Troels grew anxious and said: “Shouldn’t we be going home now?” The girls nodded. Oh yes, they ought to. The three of them skipped through the forest and, as they reached the edge, the beam from a torch picked them out and they met Troels’s father for the first time.

Cecilie’s reaction would have been: “Where on earth have you been, you horrible little brats,” then she would have hugged them and pretended to be mad.

Troels’s father said nothing. He slowly pointed the torch from one face to the next.

“Sorry, Dad,” Troels whispered.

“See you later,” Anna said, taking Karen’s hand. If they cut across the field, they could be home in twenty minutes.

“Oh, no,” Troels’s father said. “You’re coming with me. You’ll walk to the parking lot, where my car is, like good girls, and I’ll give you a ride home. Is that clear?”

Anna had been told her whole life never to go with strangers. Never ever. The three children plodded down a gravel path in total silence, past dimly lit houses, in the opposite direction to where Anna lived.