“Can we flip through the photos again,” Henrik interrupted her, “and you can point him out to us?”
“I was just coming to that.” She suddenly looked shy. “This guy was absolutely stunning, he had auburn hair, but not dyed like Johannes’s or a lot of other goths, it was genuine. And he was tall. When I saw him, I got the feeling I had seen him somewhere before. I noticed him when he arrived. He was alone, and I’ve no idea if he knew anyone. Later, I saw him by the bar. He was by himself, but it was obvious that people were staring at him. The women circled him like sharks. I started taking pictures for the Red Mask homepage, and I thought it was a good excuse to chat with him. At that point, he was on the right-hand side of the bar where later I saw Johannes entertain the masses.” She smiled. “But when I tried taking his photo, he wouldn’t allow it . . .”
“Wouldn’t allow you to photograph him?”
“No, he put his hand on my camera and pushed it down. He wasn’t aggressive or anything, he just didn’t want his picture taken, and I respected that, of course. When I had uploaded the pictures to the computer, I went through them to see if I had accidentally caught him in one of the other photos. I was curious. But he wasn’t there. Like I said, I took around two hundred and fifty pictures, we were around one hundred guests, so in theory each guest should appear two and a half times, but not this guy. It was as if he hadn’t even been there. But several of my friends had noticed him. He was gorgeous,” Stella Marie emphasized.
“Can you describe him, please? What was he wearing?” Søren asked, his pulse quickening. A man with auburn hair had been waiting for Anna.
“He wasn’t in costume. But that’s normal. There’s always a crowd that shows up in regular clothes, people wear what they feel like. So I can’t really remember. Black clothes, I think.” She shrugged. “And like I said, I had a funny feeling of having seen him before. I thought about it the next day, but since then . . . well, I’ve got a lot on my plate.” She nodded in the direction of the little girl who was watching cartoons. “But he might come next time, who knows? Why don’t you join us, you’re both more than welcome.” Stella Marie’s eyes moved teasingly from Søren to Henrik.
“By the way, do you know when the funeral is?” she added. “I’d like to attend. I know plenty of others who would want to go too. It’s tragic that Johannes has died.” A vertical furrow appeared on her forehead. “We’re really going to miss him.”
“Check with the family,” Søren said abruptly. “Johannes’s mother is still alive, so you should contact her.”
“Ah, Johannes’s mother,” Stella Marie exclaimed. “I heard Johannes came from a rich family, but he had turned his back on it. Susanne Winther told me when she was going out with him. And one day, while I was cleaning up after a Red Mask party, a delivery guy came in with two sofas, would you believe it? I was convinced it had to be a mistake, but the guy insisted. Two sofas from Kampe Furniture to be delivered to Stella Marie Frederiksen. Sponsorship. At that point I didn’t know Johannes’s family owned Kampe Furniture, but Susanne told me. I didn’t get a chance to tell Johannes until our next party, and he nearly had a heart attack when he heard it. We never found out how his mother knew about the Red Mask, and I don’t think Johannes ever asked her. But that night he kept saying, ‘My mom loves me!’ He was ecstatic! He made us all laugh because it was so touching.”
“What happened to those sofas?” Henrik asked.
“They’re in our van with the rest of our gear. The bar, the lights, and so on. They’re ultra cool. Black leather, obviously. We don’t really do chintz.” She laughed.
Once again Søren had the feeling that a minute twist to the kaleidoscope had resulted in a completely different picture.
When they were back in the car, Henrik said: “Are you absolutely sure you can trust Susanne Winther?”
“Yes,” Søren said.
“Would a repressed and downtrodden housewife send two sofas?”
“Perhaps it’s not that straightforward, Henrik. There might be a positive side to Johannes’s mother. Things aren’t always black and white.”
Henrik was driving. Søren buried his face in his hands.
“Hey, are you okay?” Henrik said. His anger seemed to have evaporated.
“Do you know what my life has been like?”
“Er, no.”
“Things were just as they looked. A led to B, B led to C, D, and E.”