A Death in Denmark

DedicationFor my father, Hanumantha Rao Malladi, who loved a good mystery; and for my friend Radhika Kasichainula, who would have thought Gabriel Præst was as cool as I intended him to be. The world isn’t the same without them in it and my heart aches. EpigraphDon’t you know that a midnight hour comes when everyone has to take off his mask?—Søren KierkegaardWhen the rich wage war, it’s the poor who die.—Jean-Paul Sartre Contents CoverTitle PageDedicationEpigraphLille Jødiske Annemarie (Little Jewish Annemarie)Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42EpilogueAcknowledgmentsAbout the AuthorResounding Praise for A Death in DenmarkAlso by Amulya MalladiCopyrightAbout the Publisher Lille Jødiske Annemarie (Little Jewish Annemarie)Greater Copenhagen, October 1, 1943There were twenty of them, huddled together in a truck that Lars Hansen used to transport vegetables from the farm to the market in Copenhagen. Rumbling down the road in the middle of the night, they were en route from Copenhagen to Hansensgård, the Hansen farm in Helsingør. Annemarie was cradled on her father’s lap. Sitting on the metal bed of the vehicle, he leaned against a sack of onions and garlic, the scent of which tickled Annemarie’s nose. No one had spoken since they had started to drive. Although Annemarie had only just turned seven, she already understood how important it was to remain silent when she was told. She knew their lives depended upon it. Since the Germans had come to Denmark three years ago, she and her family had been living in fear. She heard her parents talk about it when they thought she was sleeping. The truck stopped after what seemed like hours. Annemarie was tired and had dozed off for a while, so her legs were unsteady as she stood and gazed around. There was a family of four awaiting them, a father and mother and their two children.Annemarie’s father helped her out of the truck, holding her in his arms. She wriggled out of them, not wanting to look like a baby in front of the new people, especially the girl who looked to be her age. She had light brown hair, loose around her shoulders, just like Annemarie. She was wearing a blue dress with white stockings and black shoes, just like Annemarie. The girl smiled and introduced herself. “I’m Elvira, and this is my brother, Ib.”“I’m Annemarie,” she said, her eyes lit with pleasure at finding a new friend.Around her, the adults shook hands and introduced one another. Everyone looked tired, gray from stress; Helga Hansen, a stout smiling woman, tried to cheer them with her welcome. “Come on inside where it’s warm,” she said, putting her arm around one of the women who was holding a baby. “You’ve had a long ride. The kitchen has a fire going and I have a meatball and dumpling soup simmering on the stove.” Elvira’s older brother helped by carrying their bags inside the house, and Lars Hansen spoke to each of the adults and children as they settled into the kitchen. “You are the same age as my Elvira,” he said warmly when he shook hands with Annemarie. “She has some dolls you can play with.”Annemarie looked at her mother, who held a cup of coffee in her hands, and when she nodded, Annemarie almost clapped with glee. “Let’s go.” Elvira grabbed Annemarie’s hand and led her into her room.The farmhouse was large and had space for all of them. Everyone slept that first night, scattered around the property. Many slept on beds of hay in the barn, some in the hall of the big house, and two in the large kitchen. The next day, they’d taken quick baths with cold water in buckets and changed into clothes provided by the Hansens. Annemarie was given a dress that belonged to Elvira. It was white and green, and she loved it. It was now her favorite dress. That evening they had dinner in the Hansen kitchen, all seated around a big table. It was like a party, Annemarie thought, seeing her parents and their friends happy and smiling for the first time in a long while. “I wish we could just stay here until the Germans go away,” she told Elvira when they went to the barn to see the new baby goat that had been born just two days before. “Me too,” Elvira said. “But you have to go on a boat to Sweden to be safe. There have been others who stayed with us and then left by boat. They always leave in the night so the German soldiers can’t find them.” “I’m scared,” Annemarie confessed. “What do you think the Germans do to the Jews when they catch them? Put them in prison?”“I don’t know,” Elvira said.“Will they take me away from my Far and Mor?” she asked. Elvira gave her a hug then. “Don’t worry about anything. You’re going to Sweden and there are no Germans there.”They were already best friends—in the way only children could be. They spent that evening together and even slept side by side in the stables on the hay, whispering late into the night about what they’d do when the war was over. “We can go to the town square and eat ice cream,” Elvira said. “Or even go to the cinema. Wouldn’t that be fun?”Annemarie had agreed that it would be super fun. They had barely fallen asleep when they heard loud sounds. Annemarie’s mother told Elvira to run to her family in the house.A German officer was asking everyone to stand in a line in German-accented Danish. Rough hands of soldiers pushed them around, shoving them against one another, squeezing them together. It was cold and they were all shivering, all twenty of them and their hosts, as they stood in front of the main house.There were ten soldiers surrounding