Helene Tursten - Detective Inspector Huss

She broke off and gave Irene a sharp look before she went on. “It probably doesn’t sound too smart to your ears. What a dope I was! But you have to realize that I’m talking about a different person. The girl I’m telling you about no longer exists. She’s been gone for years. But once she was a real person. With tears and laughter and love. She could love unconditionally. And she still believed that people were basically good. You get thick skinned from fighting and losing too many battles.”

Irene saw the reflections from the candle flame glittering in Mona’s tears. Several years as an interrogation leader had taught her that the biggest mistake at such a moment would be to say anything. The person being interviewed has a need to talk things out.

As if she had read Irene’s mind, Mona continued in a more businesslike tone of voice. “What I’m telling you now I’ve never told anyone but Jonas. It doesn’t concern anyone else. But since Richard has been murdered, everything has to be completely aboveboard. I want to explain how everything was and why neither Jonas nor I have anything to do with the murder.”

She was embellishing her speech with many more sweeping gestures now than she had at the beginning of the conversation. It was the result of equal parts fervor and cognac.

“Anyway. It was getting on toward Christmas. Richard said he had to go down to Göteborg. I had moved into his apartment in the middle of December and given up my room on Birger Jarlsgatan. When I realized that he didn’t intend to take me with him to meet his family, I finally staged the big scene that I should have attempted much earlier. We argued for several hours. More precisely, I argued for several hours and said what was in my heart. I was so young and had never heard of the concept ‘fear of confrontation,’ but after a while I noticed that he wasn’t defending himself. I would attack and he would side-step without any particular finesse. He was quite simply not used to arguing! Nobody could argue with the gorgeous, charming, rich, and talented Richard von Knecht! And that’s how it had been his whole life. Free of any conflict. If things got unpleasant, he would just slip away discreetly. If any unappetizing remains were left behind, there was always someone who could be hired to sweep them away.”

Mona was now so agitated that she grabbed Irene’s untouched cognac. Irene didn’t say a word; she hadn’t intended to drink it. Mona needed it more than she did.

“His father suffered a timely embolism and Richard was granted permission from the brokerage firm to leave his job and go down to take over the family empire. You know, of course, that his father was a ship-owner. Richard left for Göteborg in early January. I was entering my second trimester. Abortion had not yet been legalized, nor did I consider it. Deep inside I believed that he would come back to me. And the child. He couldn’t ignore his child, could he? Good Lord, I was so naive!”

There was no mistaking the bitterness in Mona’s voice. She downed half the cognac in the snifter in one gulp.

“He paid the rent for six months in advance before he left. I stayed in the apartment and tended to my studies. I didn’t hear a word from him the whole time. I started using my meager student loan to buy the weekly magazines. There was a lot about him: ‘The crown prince becomes the new shipping king,’ ‘Most eligible bachelor.’ I don’t remember everything I read. In May I saw pictures from a ball in Göteborg. That’s when he met Sylvia.”

She paused and finished off the cognac.

“Then I finally woke up from my coma. The baby inside me was kicking. I felt responsible for this tiny being. And suddenly I realized that I was utterly alone and would have to fight. The new Mona began to take shape. I started calling him, both at home and at the office. I could hear from his voice that he was scared shitless. He didn’t want either his mamma or the delicate little ballerina to find out about his escapades here in Stockholm. Suddenly I had the advantage. And I intended to use it. He paid another six months’ rent. To shut me up, of course. I took it easy and lay low that summer. On July twenty-third Jonas was born. The instant he was put in my arms I knew that for his sake I would be able to fight. He’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Her voice broke a little and she fell silent. When she resumed her story there was a diamond sharpness in her tone.

“I began to demand my rights. And Jonas’s right to a father. After many heated arguments on the phone Richard promised to come up to Stockholm and ‘fix everything,’ as he put it. Instead he sent his lawyer, Tore Eiderstam. He threatened that Richard would deny all knowledge of me. Deny paternity. But I stood my ground. When he realized that I didn’t intend to back down, he started threatening me. I would never get a job, Richard and Tore would see to that. Then I threatened to go to the tabloids with my story. We went back and forth like this for several days. Suddenly one day Tore switched tactics. He said that he and Richard weren’t going to bother with me any longer. They proposed a settlement. Richard would admit to being Jonas’s father. He would put the apartment in my name and pay the rent until Jonas was twenty, plus child support of five hundred kronor per month. Remember that the rent in those days was four hundred kronor. A new car cost about eight thousand. A single mother who wasn’t even half finished with her studies had no choice. I accepted. In return I promised not to tell Jonas who his father was until his twentieth birthday. A week later I read in the papers about Richard’s engagement to Sylvia and their impending wedding. That’s when the old Mona disappeared for good.”

Mona hid her face in her hands. Irene cautiously inserted a question. “Did you and Richard have any contact over the years?”

“No, never. He didn’t even send presents to Jonas on Christmas or his birthday. And that had to be the worst thing. Seeing the boy’s excited anticipation before holidays. And then his wordless disappointment. After a while he didn’t care anymore. On his twentieth birthday I told him the same story I just told you. He just shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘My father never cared about me, why should I care about him?’”

She fumbled in her handbag and took out a tissue. She tried to control herself, but the tears blurred her voice.

“Jonas has always been such a fantastic person, even when he was little. Always happy and kind. He was born with artistic talent. He drew and painted before he could talk. There was never any discussion that he would be anything but an artist. I let him keep the apartment on Fjällgatan. I bought a condo on Lidingö when he was nineteen and had started at the Art Academy. We’ve always been very close. Even after he met Chester, who became like a son to me too. We lost him last summer. And now Jonas is going to disappear too!”

Mona was sobbing uncontrollably now. Out of the corner of her eye Irene could see the waiter fluttering nervously over by the doorway. She tried to calm Mona down, and after a while she succeeded. Mona sniffled and dried away her tears. She gazed steadily at Irene and her voice was totally under control when she went on.

“They got AIDS. Who infected them or whether both of them had HIV when they met, we don’t know. It doesn’t matter. But Chester died six months ago and Jonas is dying. That’s what I want you to see. You have to meet Jonas. So that you will never suspect that he had the least thing to do with his father’s death!”

MONA INSISTED she was going to drive her Audi, but Irene was intractable. If she was going along to meet Jonas, she didn’t want to ride with a driver who risked arrest for drunk driving. Mona gave in. She knew that Irene was right. They got into the car, which smelled like it was brand new. The odometer showed thirty-two hundred kilometers.