The Library of Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page A

you're taking the car out anyway, I'll catch a ride with you,' said his client. 'Some of us have work to do.'
    Jon started packing up his papers. Several colleagues and acquaintances came over to congratulate him on the outcome, and Jon good-naturedly had to decline invitations to dinner to celebrate. He didn't feel the euphoria that usually followed a victory. The encounter with the firm's partner had been a little too odd for him to be able to concentrate on celebrating.
    Mehmet seemed to sense his mood. In the car he said, 'Hey, we scored!' and gave Jon a playful shove on the shoulder.
    'I know. I'm sorry,' said Jon with a smile. 'I guess I'm a little tired.'
    Mehmet accepted Jon's explanation and began talking about suing for damages – how much money they should demand for damages to the door of his flat, about compensation for his cut eyebrow and about whether they could demand money for besmirching his reputation in the neighbourhood.
    Jon gave curt replies as he drove towards Nørrebro. When they arrived at Mehmet's flat, his mobile rang, and Jon switched on the hands-free to take the call. Detective Sergeant Olsen introduced himself and explained why he was ringing. Jon listened to the man's monotone voice and offered brief replies, mostly to acknowledge that he was still there.
    When the conversation was over, he took off the headset and sighed.
    'Yet another fan?' asked Mehmet.
    Jon shook his head. 'I wouldn't say that. My father is dead.'

3
    Luca was going to be buried in Copenhagen's Assistens Cemetery, among the great Danish authors, just as he had lived his life among their works.
    Jon arrived at the last minute and was met by an obviously nervous Iversen, who was standing on the gravel path outside the chapel, waiting for him. Jon recognized him at once as his father's long-time assistant at Libri di Luca. They had spoken on the phone several days earlier. It was Iversen who had found Luca in the shop that morning, dead of a heart attack; he had also taken care of all the practical arrangements for the funeral. He had always been the one who got things done, and he handled all tasks willingly.
    When Jon had visited the bookshop as a child, he could always persuade Iversen to read stories to him when Luca either didn't have time or was out on business. During the past fifteen years Iversen's hair had turned whiter, his cheeks were fuller and the lenses of his glasses were thicker, but the same warm smile still welcomed Jon when, with his briefcase under his arm, he hastily approached the waiting man.
    'It was good of you to come, Jon,' said Iversen, giving him a warm handshake.
    'Hello, Iversen. It's been a long time,' said Jon.
    Iversen nodded. 'Yes, you've certainly shot up, my boy,' he said with a laugh. 'The last time we met, you were no taller than Gyldendal's four-volume encyclopaedia.' He let go of Jon's hand and placed his own hand on the younger man's shoulder, as if to demonstrate how tall he had grown. 'But the service is about to start,' he said, giving Jon an apologetic smile. 'We'll have to talk afterwards.' His eyes assumed a solemn expression. 'It's important that we have a chance to talk.'
    'Of course,' said Jon and allowed himself to be ushered into the chapel.
    To his surprise the place was almost full. The pews were occupied by people of all ages, from mothers with whimpering infants to wizened old men who looked as if the ceremony could just as well have been for them. As far as Jon knew, Luca's only contact with the rest of the world, aside from the bookshop, was through an Italian friendship society, but the crowd was a diverse gathering of people who didn't look as if they were of Italian origin.
    A murmur arose as everyone turned to look at the two men walking up the centre aisle to the two vacant seats in the front row. On the floor before the altar was a white-painted coffin surrounded by wreaths that overflowed into the aisle in a river of colour. The wreath that Jon had asked his