Helene Tursten - The Torso

“According to the preliminary report from Stridner, Bolin has been dead for more than twelve hours. That means the murderer must have arrived pretty early in the evening. Someone may have seen him,” said Birgitta.

Irene wasn’t so sure about that. Kastellgatan was relatively quiet and calm, without many shops. But there was always a possibility.

PETER MØLLER answered the telephone despite the fact that it was after six o’clock. Irene couldn’t hear any guardedness in his voice; instead, it sounded as though he thought it was nice that she was calling. She started by asking if The New York Ripper was among Emil’s films. Peter promised to find out. When she had relayed the day’s discovery of the latest murder he became very serious.

“He’s following you,” he said.

That wasn’t what Irene wanted to hear. The short hairs rose up on her neck and she shivered, despite the summer heat. Peter wasn’t the first one to point this out. And she had thought about it herself many times lately. The murderer was close by.

“How’s Tom?” she asked in order to change the subject.

“He’s conscious but very tired. The doctor said that he had to be sewn up with over a hundred stitches. Your friend Tom is beautifully embroidered.”

Irene’s heart ached in sympathy. Poor Tom, who was so appearance conscious. She remembered the silver threads he had twisted around his hair knots and his blue nail polish.

“Could you please say hello to him from me? Actually, can you buy a bouquet of flowers from me? I’ll send money.”

“Buy flowers! If I could understand what you and that. . OK. I’ll do it.”

It was quiet for a moment and Irene was just about to end the phone call when Peter said, “Jens told me that you had asked him about my trip to South Africa. That you thought I became cross and strange when you asked about it.”

“Yes. . it had to do with the fact that Marcus had talked about a police officer who worked in Vesterbro, and then he was tricked into going to Göteborg with the promise of a trip to Thailand. . and you were tan,” she tried to explain.

She quietly blessed the fact that the Göteborg police didn’t have videophones. A blush spread across her cheeks. Peter’s answer strengthened her wish that videophones might never become standard.

“The trip to South Africa was an attempt at patching up my marriage. But it didn’t work. The trip was a catastrophe from beginning to end.”

He paused and then added, “It’s too bad that you brought up that trip. I became. . upset. Otherwise it could have been a very pleasant evening …and night, for both of us.”

Irene was surprised. At the same time she became aware of the tingling warmth spreading between her thighs. Peter was beautiful. His eyes were so blue and his body so muscular and agile. He smelled good and he moved in a sexy way. Her breathing quickened. God! Two police officers almost having phone sex, while talking about a bestial murderer!

She couldn’t help but laugh. Half joking, she said, “Maybe I should drive down to Copenhagen and visit my good friend Tom?”

“Do that. I promise to take good care of you.”

Before they hung up they agreed to call each other again soon.

Irene was forced to sit in the room for a while, until the pressure in her pelvis ebbed.

“IT SEEMS as though the first part of the address list is customers but at the end there are several pages with names and addresses of different guys. I found Anders Gunnarsson and Hans Pahliss listed there. They were listed together. Erik Bolin is also there and a lot of other names that I don’t recognize since I haven’t been involved in this investigation,” said Birgitta.

She set down a bundle of papers on Irene’s desk.

“Thanks. I’ll take them home and read them tonight. Krister is working and the girls aren’t home either. It’ll be a perfect time to sit and work,” said Irene.

But she suspected that her concentration would be disturbed by fantasies of what might have happened that night in Copenhagen.

SVANTE MALM KNOCKED ON the doorjamb before he stepped through the open door. Irene looked up from the pile of printouts from Marcus’s computer. She set down her coffee mug in order to avoid getting stains on the papers. It was the fourth mug of the morning and she was actually starting to wake up.

“Thought I would drop by and bring you up to speed. I missed morning prayers. You need to know about some developments.”

Svante sat in Irene’s visitor’s chair. He declined the offer of coffee. Irene pulled out pen and paper and got ready to take notes.

“My colleague in Copenhagen and I have been exchanging information the last couple of weeks. They have better resources than we do and they can get results a lot faster. Now we think we have enough evidence from the murderer that we can run a DNA profile. And we’ve also found fingerprints.”

“Fantastic! But what kind of evidence? And where were the fingerprints? He used gloves, it seemed.”

“For the most part. But he made a mistake here and there.”

Svante put his right hand up in the air and started counting the mistakes, at the same time he let his fingers point toward the ceiling, one after another.

“One: the semen stain found in Copenhagen under that murdered guy’s bed. Two: saliva from the stamp on the postcard you received. We also got an extra bonus there. Three: there’s a clear thumbprint in the middle of the stamp! You often push with your thumb when you attach a stamp. For some reason he wasn’t wearing gloves then. There’s always the risk that it could belong to the mailman but we’ve just found a new trump card. . .”

He paused for effect. Irene discovered that she had scooted forward in her seat and was leaning over the desk, as if she were hard of hearing.

“The videocassette that Hannu brought us yesterday. We could eliminate Jonny’s and Hannu’s fingerprints right away. We found Marcus’s and Emil’s prints on the cover. But there were only two prints on the video itself, Emil’s and that of an unknown. We’ve secured the unknown thumbprint. And it matches perfectly with the thumb on the stamp!”

Irene stared at Svante and exclaimed, “I’ll be damned! He’s been smart, and had incredible luck, but he hasn’t realized how dangerous a series of small mistakes are, when put together!”

“He has become too arrogant and self-confident. A bit sloppy. If you catch him, we’ll definitely be able to nail him. Even if he denies it.” Svante sounded very pleased.

“You haven’t gotten anything in on Erik Bolin yet?”

“No. Several samples will come from the autopsy today. Stridner’s assistant called. That young girl, what’s her name? Britt! Britt Nilsson called from Pathology and said that they had found a skin scraping under Bolin’s nails. Apparently the body also has injuries that are indicative of a serious struggle.”

Something clicked, but when Irene couldn’t grasp it, she tossed it off as her imagination, and asked instead, “So Erik Bolin fought with his killer?”

“The evidence points to it. But you’ll get a preliminary report today.”

“Probably.”

“The bloodstains on the police uniform in Copenhagen are from Marcus Tosscander but those on the baton turned out to be significantly older. They came from a prostitute who was killed two years ago.”

“Carmen Østergaard! You mean that her blood was still on the baton after two years?”

“Apparently. There were traces of blood in the hole for the leather strap and on the leather itself. Most of the blood had been wiped or rinsed off, but there was still enough for a positive test. According to our colleagues in Copenhagen, it can’t have been used after the murder.”