Helene Tursten - Detective Inspector Huss

Irene waved her hand. “Good that you’re talking about Marstrand, Jonny. Henrik asked me if it was okay for him and Sylvia to go up there this weekend. I said I didn’t think there would be any problem.”

Jonny leaned across the table and said in surprise, “Sylvia? Don’t you mean Charlotte?”

“No, Charlotte is going to her sister’s in Kungsbacka.”

“Ha! Now you see that Henrik and Sylvia have an incestuous relationship! They did away with Richard and the next in line is the lovely Charlotte. She needs a bodyguard! I’ll volunteer!”

“And who stuck a quarter in you? Such a shame that the two of them were standing five stories below when he was shoved off the balcony.” Just at the right moment the intercom beeped and a voice reported that the pizzas were ready to pick up down at the front desk.

“THIS PIZZA habit is getting a little monotonous. I’m going to make a radical change in diet. Next time I’ll have a kabob.” Tommy Persson groaned and unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. He leaned back in his chair and drank his light beer in big gulps. It was his turn to report on the day’s activities. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand before he began.

“Fredrik already told you what it was like last night on Berzeliigatan. The damage to the adjacent property is quite extensive. All the windows on the neighboring buildings were blown out. The only one that survived, strangely enough, was the shop window of the tobacconist’s on the corner. Irene already knows who owns it, but the rest of you don’t. Any guesses?”

Jonny grumbled, “A lot of damned guessing here today!”

Tommy ignored him. “Our own Lasse ‘Shorty’ Johannesson!”

Even Jonny shut up.

The color rose in the superintendent’s cheeks, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. “The worst possible hooligan right at our doorstep! Literally. That might mean something. Damn it, it’s got to mean something!”

He was unconsciously rubbing his hands together. Impatiently he signaled Tommy to continue.

“The arson techs can just barely get up to the third floor. Higher than that it’s too risky. As luck would have it-well, depending on how you look at it-the guy’s body was found behind the door to von Knecht’s office. Apparently he barely managed to make it that far and crept behind the door for protection. He was horribly burned. The pathologist is looking at him now. Poor devil,” Tommy said glumly.

He paused briefly. Then he went on with his report about the legwork in the neighboring buildings. No one had noticed anything suspicious. Everyone had heard the powerful explosion and felt the blast wave. The techs had found parts of a large homemade bomb in the entryway to von Knecht’s office. Pelle, the arson tech, had found some lumps of plastic around the site of the bomb. According to him, they were probably remnants of gasoline cans. Whoever placed the bomb there wanted to make sure that everything would burn up. The techs would report tomorrow with more details about the bomb.

Andersson was still looking flushed when he said, “Tommy, you and Fredrik check out Lasse ‘Shorty.’ Find out when he got out. This might be a lead. Hans, did you get hold of anyone who saw anything at the parking garage Tuesday night?”

Hans Borg shook his head. “I went through the building a second time. I concentrated on the apartments facing Kapellgatan, but there was nothing. From two o’clock until four-thirty I talked to people who came to get their cars from the parking garage. No one saw a thing. A teacher from Ascheberg High School loaned me a notepad and a felt-tip pen. So now there’s a note inside the entrance of the garage asking for anyone who saw anything unusual on the night of the murder to contact us.”

“There’s not much more we can do. Maybe we should show up around five-thirty in the evening. Someone who may have observed something might put in an appearance at that time. No, now I know what we should do. Tomorrow we’ll launch an intensive drive in the parking garage. We’ll start at six in the morning and keep it up till seven in the evening. Everyone who parks in the garage will be quizzed about anything they noticed Tuesday night. If that doesn’t produce anything, we’ll have to call this approach a dud. But I think it’s unlikely that the killer would have walked away in the pouring rain after the murder. I still think he had a car. Jonny and Hans, I’m giving this assignment to you,” Andersson said firmly.

Neither of the designated officers looked particularly enthusiastic about it, but they realized there was some logic to their superintendent’s reasoning.

“All right, only Hannu is left. Did you get hold of Pirjo?”

“No, just the kids. I drove out there this afternoon. They live near Angered Square. Two rooms and a kitchen.”

“Not much room for five people.”

“Four. Göte Larsson took off. The kids haven’t seen him in two years. Maybe he’s at sea. He’s a sailor.”

“But he and Pirjo are still married?”

“Yep. The little boys, Juha and Timo, were at home. They have the flu. Pirjo hasn’t been heard from since Wednesday afternoon.”

“So who’s taking care of the boys?”

“Marjatta. She’s thirteen and is used to taking care of her brothers.”

“Does Pirjo usually disappear like this?”

“No, it’s never happened before. Marjatta says there isn’t any other man. I checked with the Angered Police and called all the emergency rooms. Not a thing. We should probably report her missing.”

“Yes, we probably should. You’ll have to look for her, Hannu. It definitely seems strange. Why should the von Knechts’ cleaning woman disappear at the same time he’s murdered and his office is bombed? She must have seen something last Monday when she was there cleaning. By the way, wasn’t her daughter with her?”

“Yes, she was.”

“Thirteen, you said?”

“Right.”

Andersson thought about it. He turned again to Hannu. “Did she hear or see anything of interest last Monday?”

“No. But her Finnish is hard to understand.”

“Are there different kinds of Finnish?”

“Yes, Pirjo and the kids come from northern Karelia. From Joensuu. I’m from Övertorneå. Different dialects, almost a different language.”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. The techs had arrived, and there was a short pause while they greeted everyone and chairs were found for them. They’d already eaten, so they declined the remnants of pizza that Irene and Birgitta offered them. They did want coffee though.

After everyone had settled down, Hannu continued, unperturbed. “Pirjo doesn’t take a newspaper or listen to the Swedish news. She didn’t know that von Knecht was dead. She went to the von Knechts’ place, as she does every Wednesday. There she was met by the techs, heard about the murder, and went home. According to the boys she got home at eleven-thirty. She doesn’t have a car, but always takes the bus or streetcar. Marjatta came home from school at three-thirty. Pirjo made dinner. After five she said she had to go out and do some extra cleaning, but she didn’t say where. She hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

There was a moment’s silence in the room. It was as though everyone had to catch their breath after this unexpectedly long speech from Hannu. Andersson was the first to recover. He asked, “Do you know how long Pirjo and the kids have lived in Sweden?”

“Three years.”

“And Pirjo has never disappeared like this before?”

“No.”

Andersson looked genuinely worried. What did Pirjo’s disappearance mean? Was it a coincidence? Had she gone underground voluntarily? Was she threatened? From pure instinct the superintendent felt that this had something to do with the von Knecht case. He slammed his hand on the table.