Helene Tursten - The Torso

“Wasn’t there a baton with the other uniform?”

“No.”

“And no signs of bloodstains on that uniform?”

“No.”

“Were the bloodstains on the real uniform or on the one Emil bought in the gay shop?”

“On the one he bought in the shop.”

So Emil hadn’t dared to use his mother’s uniform during the dismemberment itself, maybe out of fear that she might sometime ask to have it back. A thought struck Irene.

“Wasn’t there any of Carmen’s blood on the uniform?”

“No. Though it had never been washed.”

Irene thought. “On the video, Emil was wearing a uniform when he dismembered Carmen. That must mean that he had still another uniform at that time,” she said.

“Very possible.”

Svante was already on his way into the corridor when Irene heard his farewell. “Good-bye. We’ll be in touch when we know more about Bolin.”

Irene brooded for a long time about the mystery of the absence of Carmen’s blood from the uniform worn during her dismemberment. That must mean Emil had had a third uniform. Where was it now? Maybe he had burned it afterward if it was very bloody? And bought a new one for the dismembering of Marcus?

Irene trembled. That meant that Marcus’s murder had been planned long in advance. Which must mean that Carmen’s murder had also been planned. Were the strange assaults on the two prostitutes in Copenhagen shortly before Carmen was murdered the first clumsy attempts at trying to secure a mutilation victim? Third time was the charm, in that case.

The description the police had of “the policeman” matched Emil, and the description of “the doctor” matched Basta. And what was it that had clicked when Svante Malm started talking about Stridner? Something that Stridner had said? Something that her assistant had said? Irene had only met Britt Nilsson a few times and that had been a while ago. No, it was useless. To her irritation, she was forced to give up. But something had definitely registered.

She went through every name on the lists from Marcus’s computer. Even names that only popped up in connection with job requests were noted. All of them would be checked. It would be a huge job but Irene felt convinced that Basta was hiding behind one of those names. He could be a link between the victims and the murderer. But another certainty had grown ever stronger inside her: he was the murderer they were looking for.

“ITHINK we have him!”

Tommy stormed into the office they shared. He seemed elated. Normally, Tommy was calmness personified.

“I’ve come directly from the prosecutor. We’re going to get him immediately. He’s at work right now.”

“Who?” Irene asked, confused.

Tommy stared at her. Then he exploded, “Jack the Ripper, of course!”

“ The New York Ripper and Jack the Ripper. . It’s a bit much now,” Irene said, trying to make a joke of her blunder.

Tommy gave her a sharp look before he continued. “I went through the employee lists of all the bars in Vasastan and its surroundings. I checked all males between the ages of twenty and forty. What a job! But it paid off. Yesterday I found Rickard ‘Zorro’ Karlsson. Thirty-two years old and works as a dishwasher at a pizzeria on Molinsgatan.”

Irene formed a silent whistle with her mouth. A dishwasher at a pizzeria, just a stone’s throw away from the pub where her husband worked as master chef.

“He got the nickname Zorro from his fellow inmates in prison. He raped a waitress who was working at the same bar that he was. After the rape, he carved two deep Z marks on her thighs with a meat knife. Afterward he couldn’t explain why. He was convicted of aggravated sexual assault and he got seven years.”

“Dare I guess that this was max four years ago?” Irene said ironically.

“Almost right. Four and a half. The crime happened in Gävle. After his time in prison he moved to Göteborg. His brother works as a cook at another restaurant here in the city but Rickard didn’t get a job there as a dishwasher. He works at the pizzeria instead.”

“When did he start?”

“In February.”

“And at the end of March, Jack the Ripper started to wreak havoc,” Irene determined.

“Yup. And now I’ve checked his time sheets against the times of the rapes. All of them have occurred when Zorro was working a late-night shift!”

“And the prosecutor has given the OK to pull him in right away?”

“Yup. Fredrik is tagging along. See you!”

His good-bye echoed from the corridor. Strange how everyone seemed to be in a hurry to leave her office today.

Personally, she was stuck with all of the names on Marcus’s computer lists. Her intuition hadn’t given her the verdict when she went through them but she felt certain the murderer’s name was there.

Two names connected with Marcus weren’t on the lists: Pontus Zander and Tom Tanaka. Irene knew of them so she noticed they were missing. That meant there were probably other people close to Marcus who were not listed in the computer. The absence of Pontus’s name wasn’t as remarkable as the fact that Tom’s name was missing. According to Pontus, he and Marcus had never been well acquainted. But Tom and Marcus had been.

Irene sighed. It felt hopeless but she had to start the phone calls. Just as she reached out for the phone it rang. She grabbed the receiver.

At first it was quiet on the line but she could hear quick, nervous breathing.

“This is Angelica Hendersen,” said a thin female voice.

The name didn’t mean anything to Irene. Cautious, but in a friendly tone of voice, she said, “OK. And what can I help you with?”

“Marcus. . I knew Marcus Tosscander. Have you caught the killer?”

“No. Not yet.”

“It’s so terrifying. I can’t understand it. . Marcus!”

To Irene’s dismay, the woman started sobbing. There was no point in trying to comfort her. Irene patiently held the phone and waited for the crying fit to ease. It took a long time but the woman finally calmed down. Sniffling, she said, “Forgive me. But this is a shock for me.”

Irene heard her blow her nose. Her voice sounded steadier when she started speaking again. “I live in Los Angeles. I came home yesterday to visit my parents. They told me what had happened to Marcus. It’s. . horrendous! They didn’t want to tell me anything before I came home because they knew how sad I would be.”

“How did you know Marcus?”

“We grew up together.”

“In Hovås?”

“Yes. I was named Sandberg at that time.”

The lightbulb came on. This was the girlfriend Marcus’s father had desperately tried to drag out as proof of his son’s heterosexuality. Irene had actually thought about contacting her, but since no more women’s names had come up in connection with Marcus, she had forgotten about Angelica.

“I visited Emanuel Tosscander today but he didn’t want to talk to me about the murder. He said that I should contact an Inspector Huss at the police station if I wanted to know anything. Please, tell me what you know,” Angelica Hendersen pleaded.

“Yes, I will, if I can ask you a few questions afterward.”

“That’s fine.”

“Even if the questions might be a little sensitive?”

“Yes. I promise to answer them,” Angelica replied in a firm voice.

Irene told her about the investigation from the very beginning but without going into great detail. She outlined the connections between the murders of Carmen Østergaard, Marcus, Isabell Lind, Emil Bentsen, and Erik Bolin.

Angelica didn’t interrupt her account. Her response, when it finally came, took Irene aback.

“Despite everything, I’m not completely surprised about what happened to Marcus. The connection to violence and to the other victims, that also adds up.”