Three Dog Night Read Online Free Page B

in the Puffa jacket was standing guard. The policeman squatted down and studied Ramses carefully.
    â€˜When did you find him?’
    Peter had checked his watch. It was now a quarter past three and starting to get dark.
    â€˜At half past two. I went for a walk with the dog.’
    â€˜And you’ve never seen him before?’
    Before Peter had made up his mind, he was shaking his head. The man with the black hair put his ear close to Ramses’s mouth to detect any possible signs of life. Then his fingers found the gold chain with the Star of David and held it up.
    â€˜A religious symbol?’
    The question was aimed at Peter, but it was his neighbour who answered. He didn’t even know her name yet.
    â€˜It looks Jewish.’
    Mark Bille Hansen had another quick look at the body.
    â€˜Hm. That might fit.’
    Peter let them talk. He could have told them that Ramses was not very familiar with religious symbols. He only wore the star because he liked the look of it and because a girlfriend from the distant past had given it to him and told him it would bring him luck. Peter looked at the star and wondered what luck it had brought Ramses. If this was good luck, he would like to see what bad luck was.
    â€˜And you were just passing?’
    The question was addressed to the hitherto nameless woman.
    â€˜I was out enjoying a New Year’s Day walk. I live up there … as well.’
    She pointed up the cliff.
    â€˜As well?’
    â€˜We both live there,’ she said, with obvious irritation in her voice.
    â€˜Together?’ Mark asked.
    She shook her head vehemently. It looked as if it might come off. She glanced at Peter.
    â€˜We don’t actually know each other.’
    She took off her mitten and held out her hand.
    â€˜My name is Felix. Perhaps we should introduce ourselves.’
    â€˜Peter.’
    Her hand was tiny. It was also ice-cold and her handshake was devoid of any strength. Her eyes directed the strength she had at him while everything else seemed as if it might crumble and turn into dust.
    Mark Bille looked at his notepad.
    â€˜Peter Andreas Boutrup. What else?’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜Who are you?’
    â€˜I live up there. In number fifteen,’ Peter said. ‘I’m a carpenter.’
    Mark Bille nodded. Peter could see he was about to ask another question when they heard the emergency sirens.
    More than anything, Mark felt like covering his ears with his hands. His headache hadn’t gone away, despite the pills, and the sound of the sirens cut through his brain with scalpel-like precision and found the centre of the pain. Matters did not improve when he saw the two detectives quickly approaching from the car: a man and a woman. The man was tall and sturdy with a young face and short, steel-grey hair, and Mark had never seen him before. The woman he would have recognised anywhere in the world and he could have kicked himself for not knowing where she was now. Anna Bagger had risen through the ranks and she had obviously ended up in the East Jutland Crime Division. Of course he would have known if he’d bothered to keep up in the last twelve months, and now he was standing there like a moron as she moved towards him with her characteristic glide. He went to meet her. When they were close he realised she was just as surprised to see him. But she hid it well; she stuck out her hand and looked him in the eye.
    â€˜Mark. I hear you got married.’
    Half her smile was professional, probably for the benefit of her colleague. The other half hit him somewhere he didn’t like.
    â€˜And I hear you got divorced.’
    He said it in a low voice. She exhaled and her breath misted in the icy air.
    â€˜A lot can happen in two years. I see you’ve returned to the scene of the crime?’
    There were layers of meaning in every single word and in every little movement, from the way she blinked to the way she gasped as she