Helene Tursten - Detective Inspector Huss

A pensive silence followed the superintendent’s last remark. Hannu straightened up in his chair and said, “No. Dope processing smells. It seems the bomb was sitting there primed for almost four days. It was von Knecht who was supposed to be blown up.”

“But on Wednesday he had already been dead for twenty-four hours!”

“But not on Friday night. He was alive then. When the bomb was made.”

The color began to rise in Andersson’s cheeks and he stared glassy-eyed at Hannu. “So we’re talking about two different murder attempts on von Knecht!”

“That’s right.”

“Would that mean that we have two murderers?”

“Maybe.”

“So the bomb murderer was beaten to the punch by the one who hurled von Knecht off the balcony!”

Irene looked at Hannu thoughtfully. Circumspectly she said, “There might be something to this argument. Killer number one rigs up the bomb at Berzeliigatan on Friday night and then goes and waits for von Knecht to arrive and blow himself up. But von Knecht catches a cold and doesn’t go there on either Monday or Tuesday. On Tuesday he eats lunch with Valle Reuter. And on Tuesday night he’s murdered by number two! Without having set foot in the office apartment for several days! But the person who made the bomb knows that it’s there, ready to explode as soon as somebody opens the door. There isn’t any back way into the apartment, so he can’t go in and disarm the bomb.”

“How did he fasten the wire to the trip mechanism on the handle of the outer door?” Birgitta wondered.

“He must have stood on the outside and threaded the thin wire through using a long hook. It must have been nerve-wracking and not something he wanted to repeat. It would be far too risky. What does he do now? Well, he sends over an insignificant insect like a Finnish cleaning woman,” Irene replied grimly.

“So the guy who made the bomb doesn’t know that Pirjo has three kids?”

“Or else he doesn’t care.”

Again the cold presence of calculated evil gave Irene a nasty shiver down her spine. She saw both Tommy and Birgitta unconsciously hunching their shoulders. Jonny was unusually silent. She glanced at him and saw that he seemed to be brooding. As if he heard her thoughts, he asked to speak. “I’m sitting here thinking. Who and why? What can we say about Shorty? He’s a notorious hooligan, he knows at least one and possibly more Hell’s Angels, and he has been dealing drugs together with his cousin Bobo. He could certainly make one of these devil bombs. There’s probably a do-it-yourself recipe on the Internet!”

The superintendent agreed enthusiastically. “Shorty? Yes, he could be the common denominator. But why? Why would he murder von Knecht?”

“Maybe it was the other one who murdered von Knecht! Hannu did say there could be two people.”

“The other one. . stop right there. . Then why did the second killer murder von Knecht?”

The silence was answer enough. Andersson sighed heavily. “The damned truth is that in the von Knecht case we’re just treading water! We know a lot about the family and their relatives and friends, but we have no motive for the murder. No answer to the question ‘Why?’ And where does Shorty come into the von Knecht picture? Was it Shorty who blew up his cousin? Hardly, since he didn’t seem to know about Bobo’s murder when he was brought in for questioning. I think we’re heading off on the wrong track. The Hell’s Angels, Bobo, and Shorty are a whole different case that we have to solve together with Narcotics. But in the von Knecht case we need a new angle. Let’s check all observations and witness statements one more time. If it really was Shorty who tossed von Knecht, somebody must have seen him. That guy doesn’t just melt into a crowd!”

Irene began to feel the churning sense of emptiness that always appears in a case that isn’t solved quickly. Check and double-check all the witness statements. And check again, if you don’t find anything new. A routine job. But that’s the way you solve crimes.

Fredrik started preparing for his presentation. He opened his notebook and coughed lightly before he began. “No one in the neighborhood says they noticed anyone suspicious on Tuesday evening. It was rainy and dark, of course, but it was only around five-thirty. No reports that anyone saw Shorty. He would have looked pretty disreputable in that neighborhood. Two meters tall and just as wide! Of course he looks disreputable wherever he is. But maybe we should ask around in the building one more time. Plus we can check up on whether Bobo was seen. He was almost as tall, but thin. Also somebody that people ought to remember.”

The superintendent nodded absentmindedly and sighed. “All right, go ahead and ask. Although I don’t think it’ll produce anything. But we should check. Maybe Bobo or Shorty threw von Knecht off the balcony. But there’s not a shred of evidence that Shorty had any contact with Richard von Knecht, or that they had ever met. And not a single rumor about drug deals around von Knecht. I find it hard to believe that Shorty and Bobo had started speculating in stocks!”

“You’ve got a point, Chief. But maybe we can pick up some new leads on Friday. Now that they’ve cleaned up the site, they can go into the building and start drilling von Knecht’s safe out of the wall. It’s hard because there’s a cellar under the building that they have to prop up from below. Otherwise they can’t bring in the telescopic boom and the standalone forklift. That’s heavy equipment and they don’t want it to fall into the cellar. It’ll probably take a day or two,” Fredrik concluded his report.

“Okay. Tommy, Fredrik, and Jonny will have to plan a strategy and question Shorty. Grill him! Skip the von Knecht stuff for now and concentrate on drugs and the Hell’s Angels. Birgitta, you haven’t found any connection between Shorty and that vice president. . what the hell kind of titles do these idiots give each other?”

“Vice President Glenn ‘Hoffa’ Strömberg. No, I haven’t found anything yet. As for titles, they have all sorts of different ranks. There’s one who’s responsible for weapons, another who makes sure that there’s always food and booze in the clubhouse, and so forth. Lowest in the hierarchy are the girls. They have no rank at all,” Birgitta said dryly.

Jonny sniggered and said, “A well-ordered society, where the chicks know their proper place and function!”

Andersson shot him a dark look, so he didn’t continue his exegesis of the social structure within the Hell’s Angels. Somewhere inside the superintendent a vague uneasiness arose that the old lady in Birgitta’s building could just as well have seen Jonny’s Volvo as Bobo’s Toyota. He firmly pushed those thoughts aside.

Birgitta clenched her jaws but ignored Jonny’s comment and continued unfazed, “We’ll find out more from the Narcs tomorrow. But I have to see if I can find the link between Shorty and Hoffa.”

Resolutely Andersson slapped his palm on the table. “All right, now we’re moving! If you find anything of interest, I’ll be here until this evening.”

They got up and went off to their respective tasks. Irene drew Tommy aside.

“Please come to dinner at six. Jenny will be home. And it’s perfectly safe since Krister’s in charge of the grub.”

IRENE WAS surprised that Sylvia von Knecht was home and answered the telephone. But Ivan Viktors had said that he was going back to Copenhagen on Sunday evening. Sylvia must not have wanted to stay alone out in Särö. Without any great enthusiasm, Sylvia agreed to let her come over and ask some questions at eleven.

Irene tried to start her report on what had happened in Billdal, but it was slow going. She called Krister and agreed to pick him up after she visited Jimmy. She drank the rest of the coffee in the thermos and looked outside. There was a break in the rain, and a pale sun seeped through the clouds. Six degrees Celsius. A regular heat wave, compared to the temperatures in recent weeks. She quickly decided to take a walk up to Molinsgatan. It would take exactly the half hour that was left until eleven if she walked slowly. She put on her leather jacket and went out.