Farewell to Freedom Read Online Free PDF Page B

cautiously placed his hand on her shoulder. “What is it, Sanne? What’s wrong?” he asked.
    The woman didn’t turn to look at him, instead raising her arm and trying to push him away.
    Mikkelsen pressed one of the doorbells and a moment later the door buzzed. He gallantly held it open for her as she staggered unsteadily toward the stairwell, fumbling along the wall with one hand. Then she disappeared from Louise’s view. Mikkelsen had picked up her bag and hung the strap over the woman’s shoulder before pulling the door closed.
    Rejoining his colleagues, Mikkelsen made no comment about the incident and just kept walking.
    â€œIt’s always deserted around here in the early afternoon. But in an hour or two the johns will start heading home from work, and then the girls will show up,” he told them as he waved to a couple of middle-aged men sitting on a bench, each holding a beer. Louise fell in behind Jørgensen as a group of schoolkids passed them, taking up most of the sidewalk as they made their way toward DGI-Byen, the enormous conference center complex that included a gym, spa, and restaurant.
    Mikkelsen was headed for Skelbækgade, which felt different to Louise in the daytime. There had been much more life on the street the night before than there was now.
    â€œLet’s just go over and ask Nesip what sorts of rumors are going around,” Mikkelsen said, sounding like a local. He motioned for them to follow as he went down four steps into a basement grocery store, calling out: “Hello! Is the little shrimp working today?”
    Louise saw a young immigrant boy behind the counter give him a high-five over the candy bins and the neat stacks of morning newspapers.
    â€œHe’s in back,” the boy said in the thick, local neighborhood accent.
    Mikkelsen led the way through the shop, and Louise noticed the boy following them with his eyes, curious. Apparently he wasn’t concerned about a group of police officers tromping through the place.

    In the back room the tea was sweet and the music was so loud that Louise had a hard time following the conversation when Mikkelsen sat down next to a small man who was apparently the shop owner. It seemed as if Mikkelsen was a friend, and Louise and Lars were merely along for the ride.
    Mikkelsen placed the photo of the dead woman on the table, and Louise didn’t need to hear what they were saying to see that Nesip didn’t know her. She leaned forward to listen as Mikkelsen tried to ferret out what people in the neighborhood had been saying, and whether there was anything the police hadn’t caught wind of yet. At one point, the Turkish man had a highly emotional outburst, his voice rising in passion and temporarily drowning out the Middle Eastern music as he expressed his great sorrow that the harsh reality of street life had claimed yet another soul.
    Mikkelsen glanced over at them and winked as he paused in his questioning until the shopkeeper had calmed down a bit.
    Ten minutes later they were back on the street again. They hadn’t learned anything new, and the sweet tea had left a cloying sweetness in their mouths.
    â€œSo he didn’t know her name, but apparently he had seen her walk by a few times lately, although he couldn’t say whether it was a week ago or a month ago.”
    They started walking back toward Halmtorvet. When Louise looked across the street, she grabbed Lars’s arm—she had seen the same drunk who had been sitting on the steps outside the Høker Café when the body was found.
    â€œIsn’t that the guy?” she asked, pointing at the opposite sidewalk.
    â€œIt sure is, and it looks like he’s finally on his feet,” her partner said. He told Mikkelsen that the man was one of the first witnesses he’d talked to. “But the guy was so far gone, he hadn’t even noticed anything was happening.”
    â€œOh, that’s Kai,” Mikkelsen