Helene Tursten - The Torso

“What kind of evidence?”

Andersson smiled contentedly when he saw her restrained excitement.

“Hairs. Two of them. They were in the sack, under the lower part of the body. And they don’t belong to Marcus Tosscander because they’re too light. Svante has sent one of them to his colleagues in Copenhagen. It will be a direct hit if they’ve found hairs from the same person at one of their crime scenes.”

“Have they found rice powder at the crime scenes in Copenhagen or in connection with Carmen Østergaard?” Irene asked.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Svante. He’s in touch with Copenhagen.”

IRENE FOUND police technician Svante Malm in the Forensics break room. He was sitting, his eyes closed and his back leaning up against the wall. At first Irene thought that he was asleep, but when she hesitantly approached, he opened his eyes slightly. A happy smile crossed his long freckled face. He quickly ran his fingers through his carrot red hair in a futile attempt to make himself presentable. Wisps of hair stood up on the top of his head. He looked like he had just awakened.

“Now you caught me red-handed,” he said.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“Not at all. I was meditating.”

He smiled again and got up to get some coffee from the pot on the hot plate. Irene had just had three cups of coffee after lunch, so, just to be different, she declined his offer. When he had seated himself at the table with his aromatic-smelling mug, Irene asked how much data he had on the murders in Copenhagen. She had copied the information with respect to Carmen Østergaard herself, but she hadn’t had a chance to read it over.

“As far as the murder of Carmen is concerned, it has been determined that the murderer was wearing rubber gloves there as well. They found talcum powder on both the body parts and in the sacks.”

“Talc? Not rice powder?”

“No, regular talc. Because of allergies they’ve recently begun to use rice powder, instead of talc, on examination gloves.”

“Did the sacks reveal anything?”

“The body parts of each corpse were found in the same type of black trash bag. The only difference is the way they were sealed. Marcus’s sacks were taped with masking tape. Carmen’s were tied together with nylon string. According to my Danish colleagues, strong string of the household kind was used. Unfortunately, that type of string is very common and is used throughout both Sweden and Denmark.”

“But Andersson said that you had found two hairs in one of Marcus’s sacks.”

“Yes. I sent one of them to Copenhagen, but haven’t heard anything yet.”

“It’ll probably take a while. Isabell Lind was murdered in an old hotel room. Naturally there were a lot of hairs.”

“Yikes. Then we’ll have to bet on the other crime scene where that guy was found.”

“It was also very dirty.”

“Were you there?”

“Yes. I was there when he was found.”

An image of Emil’s desecrated corpse suddenly flashed before Irene’s eyes. The scene was crystal clear. She started talking about the murders of Isabell and Emil in order to dispel the agonizing picture.

Svante Malm absorbed her information. Finally, he said, “Strange. The murders of Carmen and Marcus are almost identical. Just like the murders of Isabell and Emil. The medical examiner is still convinced that we’re dealing with the same murderer. What kept the killer from completion? From cleaning out the bodies of the victims and dismembering them?”

Malm had put his finger on exactly the question that was gnawing at Irene. Why hadn’t he finished the dismemberment? Incomplete. Irene remembered that word had come to mind earlier.

“One theory is that for some reason he didn’t have access to the circular saw he had during the last two murders. Another reason could be lack of time,” she said.

“Maybe so. A third factor could be the lack of a suitable place to carry out the dismemberment. Remember, it’s a messy procedure. To avoid being caught, he’d have to have the ability to clean up afterward.”

Malm fell silent as he thought.

“The internal organs and heads of the mutilated victims were never found. What did he do with them? And with certain muscles that were removed.”

Irene replied, “Yvonne Stridner thinks that he’s a cannibal. That he’s eaten the muscles. Apparently, this occurs with necrosadism. Have you run across anything like it before?”

Malm shook his head heavily. “No. The closest is probably a woman who was suffering from postpartum depression. She put her newborn baby in the oven and baked it. But she didn’t eat it. Damn! That was one of the worst things I’ve seen.”

Irene was happy that she had already finished her lunch, even though it was trying to come up again. Normally, after so many years in the field, she was hardened, but this was so disgusting that she had no defense against it. Cannibalism. The most forbidden and repulsive act.

She quickly changed the subject. “I actually came here to ask you about something completely different. Is it possible to make decent enlargements of Polaroid photos?”

“You should ask one of the photo guys about that. But I don’t think there are any problems if the initial picture is sharp.”

She would have to depend on Tom’s skill as a photographer. Thinking of skill as a photographer reminded her that she should start looking for the person who had taken the pictures of Marcus and his friend.

IRENE FLIPPED randomly through the Yellow Pages. Lots of different photographers and studios were listed. Who could have taken the pictures of Marcus and his friend? She put the phone book aside with a sigh and decided to wait until later to make inquiries, until after photos from Tom had arrived. If she was lucky, they would be on her desk with the morning mail on Monday.

It was five o’clock and time to go home. Since Krister had the night off, she was looking forward to a nice dinner, just the two of them, for a change.

Katarina was going out with Micke, and Jenny had a gig at the student union with her band. Polo. Strange name for a pop group. But it was going well for them. That evening’s gig would be the biggest yet. Jenny had been feverish with excitement all week and could speak of nothing but the approaching performance. Krister had cautiously wondered if parents were allowed to come and listen, but at this hint Jenny had thrown a fit. It was the most embarrassing thing she had ever heard! Her old parents were going to stand there and bring the average age in the place up several notches! How awkward could it get!

It would have to be a cozy night at home for the old fogies. They could always entertain themselves by petting the dog.

Irene smiled at her thoughts. The truth was that she wanted to do nothing more on Saturday night than eat a good dinner. But afterward she was definitely planning on petting something other than the dog.

MONDAY MORNING STARTED NORMALLY but things began running amok a little ways into morning prayers. The door opened and an inspector stuck his head in and said, “There’s a Dane on the phone. And he insists on speaking with Huss.”

Irene excused herself. She was escorted by her colleague to her office. He told her, “I said that you were conducting a case review and wondered if he could call back later. He told me to go to hell!”

“That sounds like a Danish colleague I know,” Irene said. She smiled.

She closed the door. The call had been transferred so she picked up the receiver.

“Hey, Jens,” she said.

“Hey, yourself. Hope you have plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time?” she asked, surprised.

“You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do!” Metz roared into the receiver.