Christian Jungersen - The Exception

Earlier, while she was carrying things down to the van, she felt warm. After the accident, she hadn’t noticed how cold it had become. When Dorte speaks, her breath condenses into little clouds in the chilly air.

‘What you have is a typical stress reaction. It’s quite natural after an experience like this. Spend the rest of the day with some close friends and take a couple of days off work. Talk to someone about it. And if you still feel on edge you can get free counselling from a trained psychologist because you knew the victim and saw the consequences of the accident first-hand.’

Iben thinks that now, for the first time, there’s a trace of warmth in this woman’s officious way of talking.

‘I’d like to help you, but I can’t. I’m not trained for it. It’s not my job.’

Iben walks a few paces behind Dorte towards the door to the yard. Maybe she should give in and accept the opinion of the professionals, but something inside her insists that they’re mistaken. What has happened is simply too terrible to be an accident.

She must phone Malene to warn her. Anne-Lise might be on her way to Iben’s flat right now.

She tries to imagine the two police officers telling Malene that Rasmus is dead. God knows how she will react after having slammed Rasmus for several days. Shouldn’t Iben get home as soon as possible? Or would Malene prefer to be alone?

Iben knows that she must go back up to Malene’s flat to fetch her jacket and her bag with her mobile phone, wallet and bicycle keys. But first she has to see the yard once more.

Rasmus’s body is covered with a pale-grey tarpaulin. It looks like a big sack, suspended only by the thin wire netting. The area around it is cordoned off with red-and-white tape.

The police photographer has left. An officer is keeping an eye on the place, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. It’s quiet. Are there faint noises coming from the neighbouring flats? Or is her hearing overly sensitive? Like the moment in Malene’s kitchen — did she actually hear the voices?

She moves closer to Rasmus’s covered body and looks up at the broken window in the dirty brick wall rising high above her. He landed far away from the wall. He must have slid down the stairs at some speed.

That’s how he was. Always in a rush.

When her father died it was cold too. She paced back and forth in the hospital parking lot, across its hard asphalt. She looks at the surface on which she stands now. It’s not black — more like a pale grey.

Police tape cordons off the landing where Rasmus fell and the flight of stairs to Malene’s flat. Another officer tells Iben to go back down and then up the back stairs. However, when she explains who she is, he lets her through.

There are no signs of the police having been in the flat. Everything looks the same as before. Iben uses the telephone to call Malene.

‘They’ve told you, haven’t they?’

‘Yes.’ Malene’s voice is composed, low, and without any trace of emotion.

After waiting for her to say something more, Iben breaks the silence. ‘Shall I come home now?’

‘How did it happen?’

‘Didn’t they tell you?’

‘Yes. But weren’t you there?’

Iben tries to describe exactly how it was. Then she warns Malene about Anne-Lise, realising she’d rather not go home at all.

When they finish, Iben picks up her bag and her jacket and walks into Malene and Rasmus’s sitting room. She stands there for a moment. Not a sound to be heard. She walks into the bedroom. It too is quiet. Then she visits every room in the flat to memorise them. Back in the sitting room she calls out in a low voice, ‘Rasmus, I’m taking the posters down now.’

Silence. She slams the kitchen door behind her and takes the narrow stairs back down. Dorte Jørgensen is still in the yard.

‘There’s something I didn’t tell you earlier.’

Dorte looks uninterested.

‘Something factual.’

Dorte turns away from the policeman she was talking to.

‘OK. Let’s deal with this in the car.

They go to sit in the police car. Iben explains that she thought she heard a woman’s voice. And that it could have been Anne-Lise’s.

Dorte pulls out her notebook. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’

‘I wasn’t sure. It was very faint. A woman’s voice, I think.’

‘Are you sure that it was Anne-Lise’s voice?’

‘No, I’m not. As I said, I can’t be sure.’

‘It could have been, say, Malene’s voice?’

‘Why do you ask that?’

‘The most common murderer by far is the spouse or partner.’

‘But I know Malene. She’d never kill anyone.’

Dorte looks at her.

Iben repeats herself. ‘I’m certain she’d never think of doing something like that. She wouldn’t. Never.’

‘Take it easy, Iben. I believe you. You’re the one who brought up the idea of murder, not me.’ Dorte’s voice drones on monotonously, as if everything she is saying is routine.

‘If you’re sticking to this statement, then I have to pursue it. The flat will be out of bounds for quite some time. My superior will call Malene and your colleague to ask them where they were at the time of the accident and if they can prove it.’

‘Will Malene be questioned?’

‘Yes. And if the case proceeds I shall have to call you in to make a formal statement, which you will be asked to sign. Are you aware of all this?’

‘Yes. I am.’

Dorte might have noticed Iben’s hesitation. ‘You also know that perjury carries a prison sentence?’

‘But I haven’t said that I know for sure that Anne-Lise was there. All I’ve said is that I heard a woman’s voice. Maybe. And that maybe it was her voice.’

The look on Dorte’s face gets to Iben. Iben is aware that she’s acting in a way that, coming from someone else, and at another time, would annoy her more than anyone.

Dorte speaks calmly: ‘Now, you must think carefully about what you did and didn’t hear. Take your time.’ She waits, rolling her biro between thumb and index finger.

‘I’ve said before … I’m not absolutely sure.’

Dorte puts her notebook away. ‘Tell you what. Just for now, I won’t make this a priority.’

She straightens up and starts to open the car door. It’s time for Iben to get out of the car again.

Rasmus’s parents have arranged for the funeral to take place in six days’ time. Most of his belongings are already packed, which makes things easier. His parents pay off his student loans and Malene takes over what he owes on his Illum shop card. She is allowed to keep the pieces of furniture she and Rasmus bought together. Legally his parents and his brother have a right to claim all Rasmus’s possessions, but they let Malene hold onto what she wants from their life together.

No one mentions Rasmus’s new girlfriend.

Others are also alert to Malene’s needs. Iben talks to her on the phone every night and goes to see her often. She also helps Malene with the many practical issues that she must now deal with. It is her chance to prove to Malene that she is a loyal and reliable friend. Ever since Kenya, when she failed to reply to Malene’s phone calls and emails, Iben has been unable to convince Malene that she would never abandon her.

Iben finds grief has made Malene less attractive. She has lost weight, maybe a couple of kilograms, and because she was already so thin, her sharpened features make her look older. Not that it seems to matter to men. Malene still turns as many heads as ever when she walks down the street with Iben at her side.

Gunnar offers to help Malene as well. Before he heard about Rasmus’s death Gunnar had left a message on Iben’s answering machine: ‘Hi. This is Gunnar. Good to see you the other night. It was a terrific evening …’ A pause. When Iben played back his message for the third time, she decided he must have worked out what to say, only to change his mind and improvise something else instead. His voice sounded a little flat at first, as if he had rehearsed what he was saying. ‘I’m sitting here reading an article in the Guardian that reminded me of what you said about the lack of political awareness in American literature. It’s an interesting article, but not as interesting as what you said.’