Helene Tursten - Detective Inspector Huss

THEY WERE lucky. Valle Reuter was home. Irene was about to hang up when he answered after a great many rings. Over the phone she introduced herself as Detective Inspector Huss. Would it be all right to come over and check some new information that had just turned up in the investigation? Yes, of course, she was quite welcome to come by for a visit. Had she tried Neil Ellis yet? Irene was rather disconcerted, but muttered something that could be interpreted as both yes and no. Ho ho, how tactful she was! But he just happened to take out a few bottles. This could be quite a pleasant evening!

Somewhat baffled, Irene hung up. But she had an idea what was going on.

“He thinks I’m the charming Birgitta. I-or rather Birgitta-have been invited to a wine tasting this evening,” she said chuckling.

Tommy gave a hearty laugh. “It would be a shame to disturb your little party. What do you say I go a round with Sylvia von Knecht? If I’m lucky she’ll still be at Marstrand. And little Arja might be in need of some entertainment. She certainly wasn’t hard to talk to.”

“Not bad looking either.”

“No. I prefer her mug to Valle’s.”

TOMMY CALLED Sylvia von Knecht from his cell phone. From his disappointed expression Irene understood that it was Sylvia herself who answered. She reluctantly agreed to a little “chat.”

“But not too long! I have my elderly mother here!”

Irene could hear her hoarse voice, even though Tommy had the phone pressed to his ear. She snorted when he hung up. “The elderly mother who’s well enough to bake cookies for the funeral! Even though there’s an excellent bakery right in the neighborhood. I know. I’ve tried everything they make.” With a shudder she remembered the coffee klatsch with the little dachshund owner.

Tommy asked, “Is that the same bakery where Richard von Knecht bought his sandwiches?”

“Yes, it is.”

She slowed down and put on her blinker. A free spot just fifty meters from the building they were going to. No chance of hoping for anything closer. They parked and headed toward the beautiful front door. Irene had an idea.

“Don’t forget to ask Sylvia about those sandwiches. According to her there weren’t any sandwiches in the fridge when she came home on Wednesday. Richard promised in their last phone call that he would pick some up.”

Tommy started to chuckle. “Imagine if the techs devoured them. So they wouldn’t be wasted. Sylvia wasn’t going to come home for a while, since she was in the psych ward,” he said, giggling.

Irene stopped short. “Good Lord, it’s not completely unlikely! We’ll have to ask them. Remind me about it.”

They had reached the front door. Hannu materialized silently at their side.

“Hi.”

“Heavens, you scared me! Hi.”

“Hello,” said Tommy. “It might be best if you accompany me up to see the ladies. And you understand Finnish if it’s needed.”

Sylvia had exceedingly reluctantly given them the code to the front door, and now they punched it in. With a soft humming the door indicated it was unlocked. They pushed it open and turned on the stairwell light.

Even though Irene knew that the paintings would be there, she was still amazed by them. Springtime floated toward her in his flowered cart, and on the other wall the fiddler played so hard the sweat was flying. She hurried up the steps to spend a moment with the graceful black marble swan on the floor of the foyer. She glanced at Hannu but couldn’t see the slightest glimmer of response. He stepped purposefully up to the elevator and opened the door. Irene thought it was silly to take the elevator up one floor, but she did anyway.

VALLE REUTER opened the door with a broad, welcoming smile on his face. It was extinguished at once when he caught sight of Irene. Disappointed, he said, “Who are you? And where is that sweet little police sister?”

“I’m Detective Inspector Irene Huss. Just as I told you on the phone. Apparently you’re confusing me with Detective Inspector Birgitta Moberg. She was the one you talked to at headquarters last week. Right now she’s busy with a major investigation concerning one of Sweden’s worst narcotics criminals.”

She couldn’t help herself. It slipped out of her before she could think. It was in reaction to that “police sister” line.

Valle Reuter looked very impressed. He raised his eyebrows to his hairline and said, “Are you really going to send little Birgitta on such dangerous missions?”

He moved his shapeless body and made an inviting gesture toward the hall. It wasn’t as big as von Knecht’s. But the lovely carved closet doors were there, along with a magnificent mirror. Irene stepped in and hung her leather jacket on an ornate brass hat rack. At first she didn’t notice it, but then she had an unpleasant déjà vu experience. A distinct smell of Ajax and cigars hung in the air. Involuntarily she shuddered. The last time she had been in this building surrounded by this mixture of smells it was due to an evil, sudden death.

Aloud she said, “There’s a nice smell of Ajax. Have you already done the Christmas cleaning?”

He laughed and peered at her. “You could say that. As a matter of fact I’ve hired a cleaning firm. Three people were here all day yesterday. Fantastically talented people. They cleaned the whole apartment and put up new curtains everywhere. I want the place to look good when my fiancée comes here for the first time,” said Valle.

He smiled happily and glided before her into the large living room. It was somewhat smaller than the room upstairs at the von Knechts, but still about a hundred square meters. With a proud gesture he motioned for her to take a seat in a pompous-looking leather easy chair. The smell of new leather stung her nose. The leather furniture was heavy, shiny, and obviously brand new. Two sofas and four easy chairs. The glass table was the biggest one Irene had ever seen; it reminded her of an octagonal pool. In the large open fireplace of iridescent green marble and black slate a wood fire crackled. High cupboards with shiny glass doors towered on either side of the fireplace. Silver pieces glimmered behind the glass. Large paintings with heavy gold frames were reminiscent of the art in the von Knechts’ apartment. Reuter also owned a paint-laden monster, like the one von Knecht had on the wall of his library-although von Knecht’s was green and this one was blue.

At the other end of the room a large dining table with twelve chairs was enthroned. Above it hung a heavy crystal chandelier. Glittering light from thousands of prisms radiated over the room.

Valle Reuter stepped over to the wall and began twisting a small control dial. Softly the illumination was toned down; then with a quick twist in the other direction he bathed the room in light.

“They came to install this today. A dimmer, it’s called.”

With a thoroughly contented expression, he turned the light back down to a comfortable level.

“Your fiancée will like this apartment, I’m convinced of that.” Irene said this with genuine honesty, because it was actually very pleasant.

“I think so too. Everything is new! It all came today.”

“Everything?”

“Well, not the art and the carpets. Those are things that Henrik bought for me. Investments. The crystal chandelier is old too, very old, but superbly renovated. The furniture is new. You’re the first one to sit in that chair.”

“And all this you bought because your fiancée will be coming here for the first time?”

He gave her a long look and nodded solemnly a few times before he said, “She accepted my proposal last Tuesday. I was overjoyed! My life has been as black as night. Dreary years. . alone. . and then this thing with Richard. When Gunnel said yes, I thought a light was being lit for me too. I almost don’t dare believe it! I decided to start a new life. Got rid of all the ugly old furniture that Leila picked out once upon a time! I’m not very good at cleaning. . the place was a little dirty. But the cleaning company took care of that. Although I had to pay double because they had to come at such short notice. But it was worth it! The day before yesterday I went into that furniture gallery on Östra Hamngatan. I pointed out exactly what I wanted. Some of it wasn’t in stock, so I took the display items. The dining room table and one of the sofas. ‘I need it delivered Friday evening at the latest,’ I said. It cost quite a bit, the whole thing. But it’s worth every öre! I donated the old furniture to the City Mission. They came and got it yesterday. May I offer you a glass of something? No, I suppose not.”