Helene Tursten - Detective Inspector Huss

Startled, she turned toward the voice and stared straight into the barrel of a rifle. It trembled ominously in the hands of a fat, bald, elderly man.

THE THREE detective inspectors had almost managed to convince the armed man that they were actually police by the time the squad car arrived. The two officers came around the house with their weapons drawn. Fortunately one of them was Hans Stefansson. Or perhaps unfortunately, Irene wasn’t sure. She was sure of one thing, though. The story of how a suspicious neighbor stood holding the three detectives in check with a moose gun while he waited for the patrol car would be all over PO1 before evening.

The poor elderly gentleman was terribly embarrassed when he realized his mistake. He defended himself in a shrill voice. “You can’t be too careful these days. The wife saw some strange figures creeping around here and peeking into cars. A gang of burglars, that’s what I thought!”

Irene suspected that “the wife” was the woman behind the curtain who had spied on her and Tommy the day before. It’s better to have them with us than against us, she thought. Some average citizen who thinks he has the confidence of the police might start telling us something that would prove useful. As long as it was about someone else, that is. So in a confidential tone Irene said to the corpulent neighbor, “We’ve been trying to get hold of Henrik von Knecht, but with no luck. Do you happen to know where he is?”

There was no risk, since she knew he was in Stockholm. But the neighbor probably didn’t know that. He shook his spherical head and said indifferently, “Henrik von Knecht? He’s almost never home. For a while I thought he and his wife had gotten a divorce. But last week we saw him again.”

“We met with Charlotte von Knecht yesterday, but would like to get hold of her again. You understand. . everything has to be checked and double-checked in a homicide investigation.”

The neighbor nodded eagerly in agreement. But when he thought about it, he turned grumpy. This was an excellent opportunity to complain. “We don’t see much of the wife either. I mean. . she’s never out in the garden. Which really needs it! We always have to clean up the hedge between our properties. They never take care of their side. And I’m the one who has to clip it. Every year!”

“Don’t they have a gardener to take care of their side?”

“No, and you’d think they could afford it! But they expect me to take care of their part too!”

Irene clucked her tongue sympathetically and decided to approach the actual target. Evasively she said, “If her husband is away so much, does she have a lot of friends and relatives visiting?”

The reply was curt and quick. “No.”

There was something. Best to keep dangling the bait. She took a new tack. “But does she have parties occasionally? Otherwise she’d be pretty lonely in this big house, wouldn’t she?”

The neighbor looked uncertain, and Irene thought she sensed some reserve when he replied. “No, there haven’t been any parties all year. The house is empty most of the time. But sometimes she has had. . visitors.”

“Gentleman visitors?”

A light blush spread over the round cheeks and up toward his forehead. Probably about the person who had been standing behind the curtains and indignantly taking notice of these visits. Those lucky dogs who were allowed to visit the beautiful Fru von Knecht. For his own part it was out of the question, for several reasons. But he could always dream. And enviously keep an eye on those granted access to the beauty.

Irene clarified her question. “Have there been different gentlemen, or perhaps one special gentleman?”

The well-meaning neighbor began to have a vague sense that he was being subjected to a regular questioning, but it was too late to retreat. Once you’ve said A, you have to say B. Self-consciously he stood digging the toe of his worn-out loafer into the soft lawn and muttering indistinctly.

Quickly Irene said, “Excuse me, I didn’t hear you.”

He gave up and puffed, “There used to be various cars that picked her up. Sometimes they stayed overnight. But not very often.”

“How often?”

“Well, maybe ten times.”

If he said ten times, then it was ten. He probably kept track.

“There used to be, you said. Have things been different recently?”

Embarrassed, he twisted his voluminous body before he answered. “Well, yes. Early last fall a red Porsche would come to pick her up. The first few times we didn’t think so much of it, because it was her father-in-law coming to pick her up. We recognized him from the newspapers. But one night he. . spent the night.”

“When was that?”

“At the end of August, maybe early September. It doesn’t have to mean anything. . inappropriate. We knew that it was him, Richard von Knecht, and he was her father-in-law, after all. But you start to wonder. . He always came when his son, Henrik, wasn’t home. And he’s basically never home. But we’ve never seen the mother-in-law there.”

Thunk! Thunk! Irene’s heart was pounding wildly with excitement. She thought the others must be able to hear it. But the noise of their own hearts must have drowned out the sound, since all five officers were totally focused on the older man. Did he understand what he was saying? Probably. They could tell that he had been thinking about what this might mean and finally was forced to draw the only reasonable conclusion. It was something “inappropriate.”

They thanked him for his valuable information and said that they would be in touch to go over things in more detail. As he was about to return to his own house, he suddenly put his chubby hand on Irene’s arm. Embarrassed, he said, “Well. . excuse me for pointing my rifle at you. . but it’s not loaded. I couldn’t find the ammunition. But that wasn’t. . Do you have to tell Fru von Knecht that I was the one who told you this?”

Despite the freezing weather, his forehead was covered by a thin layer of sweat. Irene gave him a few calming pats on the hand, which she hoped would instill trust in him and said in her best official police voice, “Not unless it turns out to be of crucial importance for the investigation. At this point it’s just one of many leads. If necessary, you may be called to testify in court. However, at present there is nothing to suggest it will be necessary. If it is, we’ll let you know in plenty of time.”

Statements that sound official always calm the public. They instill a feeling that the authorities have the situation under control. Which was hardly the case for the three inspectors at the moment. The whole investigation had been turned upside down!

After the neighbor had toddled back to his house, with the barrel of his rifle dragging through the wet lawn, Irene turned to the patrol officers and said, “Stefansson, you and I know each other well, don’t we?”

Hans Stefansson nodded, at the same time giving her a puzzled look.

“Under no circumstances, and I repeat, under no circumstances will you and your colleague mention to anyone what this neighbor just told us! You will report precisely what happened out here, but not a word about the conversation. Word of honor!”

She held out her hand and they shook on it. Stefansson’s colleague was a young assistant and he didn’t seem to have understood a thing. But his expression was solemn and serious as he shook Irene’s hand.

The two officers took off in their car, and the three inspectors were left standing in the overgrown yard. They looked at each other but were unable to make real eye contact in the gathering dusk.

It was Tommy who broke the silence. “We have to talk. And eat! It’s almost three-thirty.”