Asimov's Science Fiction: April/May 2013 by Penny Publications Page A
Authors: Penny Publications
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if you make it 'Chris.' And I'm not trying to stretch your time frame, Tim—if I may call you that?" Marchese nodded, and Juul went on. "I've pretty much done my courier and liaison duty here. I've got a court appearance myself next week and I'm booked for a flight home Saturday morning."
"I'll be staying on," Bente Flindt said.
"Where are you staying?" Tim asked.
"The Beresford. Christian has been kind enough to show me around, but he is going to spend most evenings at the Berkeley campus where he has friends. They'll take him to the airport."
Tim looked at the Danish policeman. "Christian Juul. Chris Juul. You were Cal's field goal kicker in the '90s. Fine one, too. No wonder your English is so good."
Bente Flindt laughed. "You're making Chris' ears burn. Look at them!"
"At least they don't
stritter
like mine," Tim said.
The Danes stared at him.
"Sounds like you've had some Danish exposure," Juul said. "Not too polite an exposure if you're told your ears stick out."
"Danish girlfriend, a long time ago. And it was teasing, not malice. Besides, my ears do stick out."
"I've seen worse," Juul said. "And when it comes to sticking our noses in someone else's business—like our carpet cleaning Mr. Conerly—we'll for sure do it your way. What do you plan for the afternoon?"
"Checking any tenants in the Dennison apartment building that we can still find to see if they had scheduled carpet cleaning that day or the days before. But if our man is smart, he had a job in the neighborhood but not that building. The rape and murder took place at noon. Lunch hour. But we'll try anyway." Tim turned to Bente Flindt. "Want to come along?"
"It's not the investigative procedures that will help me. It's the confrontation with the killer and his arrest. For the moment what I can use is a good run."
"Take the afternoon off, then. Chris can brief you tonight."
Juul turned out to be good company on a nonproductive afternoon. The trail was far too cold. Only two of the eight apartments were occupied by the same tenants, and they hadn't ordered their carpets cleaned or remembered a cleaner in the building or a truck outside. Tim and Juul ended up at the Buena Vista and ordered burgers on sourdough. Tim ordered a Mt. Tam Pale Ale for the Dane, and Juul countered with a Carlsberg Elefant for Tim. Their talk was wide ranging, and eventually got around to Bente Flindt.
"She was third woman in the Copenhagen marathon two years ago," Juul said.
"That's good running."
"She downplays it. Says the Danish national championship was coming up in two weeks, and Denmark's best sat this one out. She claims her time wasn't near world class."
"But, still..."
Juul smiled and nodded.
Tim dropped Juul off at his hotel, promising to leave a message if he were able to contact Conerly. He was back at his desk at 5:45, cleared out and rerouted some old correspondence, and called Marilee. He was careful to ask first thing about her morning. Good workout. An extra bonus—she had seen a red fox on the path. She was excited about the encounter, or said she was. She didn't sound it. Her voice was tailing off at the end of sentences. He listened till she had talked herself out, then asked her gently what was wrong.
He could hear her breathing in short intakes while she picked her words.
"Just the hell that other people can be."
"Hang in there," he said. "I'm coming home."
He called Conerly's home and got his voicemail. He didn't leave a message.
Tim eased out of the garage at half past the hour. Across Market, up Van Ness to Bay, then a semi-straight shot for the Golden Gate Bridge. Quick detour into the crowded parking lot of the Marina Safeway, the only supermarket he knew with a bay view. He grabbed a handbasket, elbowed his way by the slow moving bachelors picking out their single portion glassine wrapped lasagnas or pizzas, their eyes on the single females doing pretty much the same.
Past them to the wine and beer section for a Sterling cabernet
"I'll be staying on," Bente Flindt said.
"Where are you staying?" Tim asked.
"The Beresford. Christian has been kind enough to show me around, but he is going to spend most evenings at the Berkeley campus where he has friends. They'll take him to the airport."
Tim looked at the Danish policeman. "Christian Juul. Chris Juul. You were Cal's field goal kicker in the '90s. Fine one, too. No wonder your English is so good."
Bente Flindt laughed. "You're making Chris' ears burn. Look at them!"
"At least they don't
stritter
like mine," Tim said.
The Danes stared at him.
"Sounds like you've had some Danish exposure," Juul said. "Not too polite an exposure if you're told your ears stick out."
"Danish girlfriend, a long time ago. And it was teasing, not malice. Besides, my ears do stick out."
"I've seen worse," Juul said. "And when it comes to sticking our noses in someone else's business—like our carpet cleaning Mr. Conerly—we'll for sure do it your way. What do you plan for the afternoon?"
"Checking any tenants in the Dennison apartment building that we can still find to see if they had scheduled carpet cleaning that day or the days before. But if our man is smart, he had a job in the neighborhood but not that building. The rape and murder took place at noon. Lunch hour. But we'll try anyway." Tim turned to Bente Flindt. "Want to come along?"
"It's not the investigative procedures that will help me. It's the confrontation with the killer and his arrest. For the moment what I can use is a good run."
"Take the afternoon off, then. Chris can brief you tonight."
Juul turned out to be good company on a nonproductive afternoon. The trail was far too cold. Only two of the eight apartments were occupied by the same tenants, and they hadn't ordered their carpets cleaned or remembered a cleaner in the building or a truck outside. Tim and Juul ended up at the Buena Vista and ordered burgers on sourdough. Tim ordered a Mt. Tam Pale Ale for the Dane, and Juul countered with a Carlsberg Elefant for Tim. Their talk was wide ranging, and eventually got around to Bente Flindt.
"She was third woman in the Copenhagen marathon two years ago," Juul said.
"That's good running."
"She downplays it. Says the Danish national championship was coming up in two weeks, and Denmark's best sat this one out. She claims her time wasn't near world class."
"But, still..."
Juul smiled and nodded.
Tim dropped Juul off at his hotel, promising to leave a message if he were able to contact Conerly. He was back at his desk at 5:45, cleared out and rerouted some old correspondence, and called Marilee. He was careful to ask first thing about her morning. Good workout. An extra bonus—she had seen a red fox on the path. She was excited about the encounter, or said she was. She didn't sound it. Her voice was tailing off at the end of sentences. He listened till she had talked herself out, then asked her gently what was wrong.
He could hear her breathing in short intakes while she picked her words.
"Just the hell that other people can be."
"Hang in there," he said. "I'm coming home."
He called Conerly's home and got his voicemail. He didn't leave a message.
Tim eased out of the garage at half past the hour. Across Market, up Van Ness to Bay, then a semi-straight shot for the Golden Gate Bridge. Quick detour into the crowded parking lot of the Marina Safeway, the only supermarket he knew with a bay view. He grabbed a handbasket, elbowed his way by the slow moving bachelors picking out their single portion glassine wrapped lasagnas or pizzas, their eyes on the single females doing pretty much the same.
Past them to the wine and beer section for a Sterling cabernet
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