Read The Killing - 01 - The Killing for Free Online

expanded and the houses fell into the hands of men who made beer. They came onto the market slowly, sought after even if some needed much expensive restoration. Theis Birk Larsen had bought the cheapest he could find. Squatters had been in before, leaving behind their junk, mattresses and cheap furniture. It needed clearing, a lot of repair work. He’d do most of it himself, quietly, without telling Pernille, not until it was close to time to move in and escape the tiny apartment above the garage.
    Vagn Skærbæk was helping. The two had known each other since they were teens, gone through a lot together, including a few appearances in court. To Birk Larsen he’d become almost a younger brother, uncle to the kids, steady employee in the transport company. Reliable, trustworthy, kind to Anton and Emil. A solitary man who seemed to have no life of his own once he took off the scarlet uniform.
    ‘Pernille’s looking for you,’ Skærbæk said coming off the phone.
    ‘Pernille’s not going to know about this place. I told you. Not a word until I say.’
    ‘She’s phoning round, asking where you are.’
    There was scaffolding on the outside, sheeting against the rotting windows. Birk Larsen was paying his own men to carry in new floorboards, guttering and piping, making them promise to keep quiet about the place when Pernille was around.
    ‘The boys can have their own rooms,’ he said, looking at the grey stone house. ‘You see that top window?’
    Skærbæk nodded.
    ‘Nanna gets that whole floor, a staircase of her own and some privacy. Pernille a new kitchen. And me . . .’ He laughed. ‘Some peace and quiet.’
    ‘This is going to cost a fortune, Theis.’
    Birk Larsen stuffed his hands into the pockets of his red bib overall.
    ‘I’ll manage.’
    ‘Maybe I can help.’
    ‘Meaning?’
    Skærbæk was a slight and fidgety man. He stood there shuffling from foot to foot even more than usual.
    ‘I know where there’s thirty B&O TVs going cheap. All we’ve got to—’
    ‘You’re in debt? That’s it?’
    ‘Listen. I’ve got buyers for half of them . . . We can share . . .’
    Birk Larsen pulled a wad of notes out of his pocket, ripped off a few.
    ‘All I need is to borrow a forklift . . .’
    ‘Here you go.’ He folded the money in Skærbæk’s hand. ‘Forget the TVs. We’re not teenagers any more, Vagn. I’ve got a family. A business.’ Skærbæk kept hold of the money. ‘You’re part of both. Always will be.’
    Skærbæk stared at the cash. Birk Larsen wished he’d lose that stupid silver neck chain.
    ‘How’d the boys feel if they had to visit their Uncle Vagn in jail?’
    ‘You don’t have to do this . . .’ Skærbæk started.
    Theis Birk Larsen wasn’t listening. Pernille was riding towards him on the Christiania trike, so quickly the shiny scarlet box on the front bumped up and down over the cobblestones.
    He forgot all about the secret house, about building work and where the money might come from.
    She looked terrible.
    Pernille got off, came straight up to him, took the collars of his black leather coat.
    ‘Nanna’s missing.’ She was breathless, pale, scared. ‘The police found your video rental card out near the airport. They found . . .’
    Her hand went to her mouth. Tears started in her eyes.
    ‘Found what?’
    ‘Her top. The pink one with the flowers.’
    ‘Lots of kids wear tops like that. Don’t they?’
    She gave him a sharp look.
    ‘And the video card?’
    ‘Did they talk to Lisa?’
    Vagn Skærbæk was listening. She looked at him and said, ‘Please, Vagn.’
    ‘You want any help?’
    Birk Larsen stared at him. He went away.
    ‘What about that bastard kid?’
    ‘She isn’t seeing Oliver any more.’
    There was a touch of red anger in his cheeks.
    ‘Did they talk to him?’
    A deep breath then she said, ‘I don’t know.’
    He had his keys out, called to Skærbæk, ‘Take Pernille home. And the trike.’
    A thought.
    ‘Why didn’t you