The Drowned Girl by Sara Blaedel

Author:Sara Blaedel [Blaedel, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Crime, Thriller, Suspense
ISBN: 9781538759851
Google: 8E6xswEACAAJ
Amazon: B0796S524K
Goodreads: 38245656
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-12-24T06:00:00+00:00

20

We’re going to release the body,” Storm said from their office doorway, and then asked if Louise didn’t need to take a spin back to Copenhagen to water her plants. If so, could she swing by the morgue and bring the certificate back? The family had requested permission to fly Samra back to Jordan so she could be buried in Rabba, where she’d grown up and where her grandparents still lived.

“I’m sure my plants would love that. I suppose I might as well go do it now?” she said, looking from Storm to Mik, who both nodded.

“Of course you could also stay for a cup of tea before you go,” her partner coaxed once Storm had left. “Bengtsen brought in some of Else’s macaroons.”

Louise smiled and held her hands up in refusal.

In the car she called Flemming Larsen’s direct number and said she was on her way in to pick up Samra’s death certificate. Did he have time to step out for breakfast or a cup of coffee?

“I’m going to have trouble getting out of here,” he said and explained that he was about to start an autopsy. “But if you want, we could have a cup of coffee here when you arrive. I’d really like to see you before you leave town.”

Louise laughed into her headset. The tall pathologist was a master at making her feel like she was special, which made her cherish their friendship.

“I’m in the basement,” Flemming said. “Just come on down and we’ll get the death certificate all sorted out, too.”

When she arrived at the Teilum Building, she said hello to one of the pathology techs whose name she couldn’t remember and found out that Flemming was in the first room on the right at the bottom of the stairs.

Her heels echoed. She’d been down to the cold-storage rooms several times, but had never attended a postmortem there. She wasn’t usually there until they did the formal autopsy. She knocked and waited a bit before pushing the door open.

“Hi,” Flemming said, walking over to her in his white lab coat. Louise stayed out in the hallway, but saw that the deceased on the table was an older man. She received a quick peck on the cheek from Flemming.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready. I picked up some pastries across the street from the cafeteria at the Rigshospitalet,” he said, indicating a chair a little farther down the hallway.

“I’ll wait,” she said, smiling at the thought that he’d gone out of his way to pick up pastries for her.

Down the hallway a heavy steel door opened and a man in a gas mask came out. She raised her eyebrows at Flemming, wondering what that was about.

“They just started embalming your Jordanian girl,” he said. “That has to be done before she can be sent abroad. Have you ever seen how they do that?”

Louise shook her head and followed him to a glass window in the wall. It was a small room that was dominated by a steel table, which was screened by a thick plastic curtain on all four sides.

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