Helene Tursten - The Torso

She immediately knew who Pontus was when she stepped out of the elevator and looked through the glass wall toward the reception area. He was tall and blond, and looked a lot like Anders Gunnarsson. Apparently Pahliss was attracted to a certain type. The difference was that Pontus had longer hair, pulled together in a neat ponytail at the back of his neck.

Pontus stood talking with two uniformed police officers. They were laughing and seemed to know each other, which wasn’t all that surprising since Pontus worked in an emergency room. Irene cleared her throat lightly before saying, “Pontus Zander?”

He stopped in the middle of his conversation and smiled at Irene. “Yes, and you must be Irene Hysén?”

“Huss.”

They approached each other. His handshake was warm and firm. The two patrolmen said good-bye and went out through the main entrance door.

Irene made a stop at the coffee machine when they got to the fourth floor. With a steaming mug in each hand, she led Pontus into her office. She placed one mug on the desk next to her chair and the other in front of the visitor’s chair.

“Please sit down,” she said and gestured toward the chair.

Pontus Zander sat. The sun shone on his blond hair and a ray was reflected in his steely blue eyes, which were framed by thick dark eyelashes.

“I don’t know if my colleague had time to tell you what we wanted to ask you about,” Irene started.

She intentionally allowed her question to hang in the air. Pontus answered immediately, “No, I was very stressed when he called. We got a guy with hemorrhaging varicosities in his throat at the same time as five people injured in a minivan accident. Plus the usual bunch of emergencies that had been sitting and waiting for several hours. It was tough last night. God!”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. Irene was not absolutely certain as to what bleeding varicose-something was but she decided not to pursue the matter.

“As you know, we’re investigating the murder of Marcus Tosscander. Did you know him?” she asked instead.

“Not very well. We met at a party that Anders and Hans had. And at their wedding, of course. But otherwise I actually haven’t spent any time with Marcus.”

“You two never dated?”

Pontus looked genuinely surprised. “No, as I said, we didn’t know. .” “Marcus wasn’t always diligent about getting to know his partners. . beforehand. Are you absolutely sure that you were never together?”

Now Pontus had a mischievous look on his face. He smiled when he answered, “To be honest, I actually tried flirting with him at the wedding but he wasn’t interested. He only had eyes for a big dark-skinned American named Leon. A real motorcycle-and-leather queen.”

“Does Leon live in Göteborg?”

“No, Los Angeles. He’s a doctor. A virologist, just like Hans. That’s how they met and became good friends. Leon’s research concerns various HIV viruses, and Hans works with the herpes virus.”

“Do you know if Hans and Leon have been more than friends?”

“I actually don’t think they’ve ever been together. They aren’t each other’s type.”

“But Marcus and Leon were?”

Pontus pursed his lips and thought before he replied. “Leon was Marcus’s type. That much I can say.”

“But you weren’t.”

“No.” Pontus sighed lightly.

It was about time to discuss Copenhagen. In a neutral tone of voice, Irene said, “Exactly when did you live in Copenhagen?”

He looked surprised. “How do you. . Almost three years ago.” “When exactly?”

“In October ’96.”

“What did you do there?”

“We have an exchange program within the union. You trade jobs and living quarters with a colleague in another Nordic country. Loads of fun!”

“How long were you in Copenhagen?”

“One month. But what does this have to do with Marcus-”

“How did you end up at Emil Bentsen’s?”

Now Pontus looked confused. “What does that matter? Isn’t it Marc-”

“I’ll get back to that. Could you please answer my question?”

“OK. The colleague who I was going to trade with was named Lise. Lise called two weeks before I was going to leave for Copenhagen and she was completely distraught! There had been a fire in her building and it wasn’t possible to stay in her apartment because of smoke and water damage. But she promised to arrange a place where I could live and she did. I know that she put an ad in the paper and got some replies. She decided on Emil Bentsen’s apartment and that’s where I stayed the whole time.”

“I understood from Hans Pahliss that you recommended that others rent from Emil when they needed a place to stay in Copenhagen.”

“Yes. The location and the rent are excellent.”

“What did you think of Emil?”

“He’s a little. . strange. I didn’t see much of him. I was out on the town when I wasn’t working. But he was weird.”

“Weird? What do you mean?”

Pontus sat for a moment searching for words. Finally he said, “He played strange heavy metal at the highest volume. Completely incomprehensible music. It seemed to me that he was sneaking around. A few times I had the feeling that someone had been in my room while I was out, and sometimes I heard someone moving on the other side of the door in the kitchen. It led into Emil’s apartment. And one time I clearly saw and heard the door pulled shut when I came out into the kitchen early in the morning. God! He was scaring me half to death!”

“Was anyone else living there aside from you?”

“No, but I was only paying for one room.”

“Were you ever inside Emil’s apartment?”

“No. I kept my distance from him. I don’t really know what it was, but I didn’t like him.”

“Yet you recommended his place to others?”

“Of course. It’s impossible to find a cheaper place at such a good location. And you don’t have to hang out with Emil if you don’t want to. He didn’t make any attempts at getting to know me, except for that strange sneaking around.”

“Who else have you recommended Emil to?”

“Hans Pahliss and a guy at work named Sven. Emil asked me to put up a notice in a good place about his room for rent. He gave me some flyers with little strips at the bottom that you can tear off. Emil’s name and address were on the strips. I put one up at work and the other in the union offices. And I put one up at a club. Are you familiar with the Sodom and Gomorrah Club?”

Irene was very well acquainted with Göteborg’s largest gay club. If Pontus had put up the flyer there three years ago, it would be hopeless trying to track down everyone who might have taken a strip.

“Could you please tell me why you’re asking about Emil and Copenhagen?” Pontus requested.

Irene described the connection between Marcus’s murder and Emil Bentsen’s. Pontus was visibly shocked when she spoke of Emil’s murder. There had only been a little article about it in the Swedish papers, with no mention of a name.

Pontus sat quietly for a long time after Irene had finished her account. Finally he said, “It feels horrible that two people I know have been murdered by the same person, and because I recommended Emil to Hans and, in turn, he recommended him to Marcus. . I know it sounds silly but I feel responsible.”

Irene admitted they shared that feeling. Her guilt after Isabell’s death would not go away.

She leaned back in her chair and looked at Pontus’s beautiful face, which reflected anguish. Up to now he had seemed very sincere. Yet he could be a skillful liar who was concealing the truth. Had he been closer to Marcus than he was willing to admit? With these thoughts in the back of her mind, she asked, “Since you work in the health-care field, do you happen to know if Marcus was in a relationship with a doctor during the summer and fall of last year?”