Helene Tursten - The Torso

IRENE WAS on her fifth mug of coffee of the morning and she had almost finished writing the report on the questioning of Henning Oppdal when Hannu stuck his head in and asked if she was ready to tag along to the interview of Sara Bolin. She quickly hurried to finish and logged out.

Hannu drove as Irene leaned back against the headrest, trying to relax.

“Did the witness ask if we’d found anything in the mausoleum?” Hannu asked.

“No. He became completely absorbed by Manpower .”

Hannu laughed. “I can understand that. Did he recognize Basta?” “He said that it could very well be Basta. Hard to say for certain since the face is in shadow.”

Hannu said, “Exactly. Then why is Basta so anxious to get this picture? We haven’t found any of the other pictures Bolin took of him. Basta probably found them.”

“There is a connection between himself and Marcus through the pictures Bolin took. But I don’t think he functions like the rest of us. Could Manpower have become an obsession?”

“Maybe. But I put more stock in your first theory. He’s cold. Ice-cold.”

Irene felt that cold surround her.

SARA BOLIN must have been standing just inside the door waiting for them. Irene barely had time to take her finger off the doorbell when the door flew open. The woman in the photograph that Erik Bolin had proudly shown Irene less than a week ago opened the door. She was completely dressed in black and was even more beautiful in person. Her thick brownish black hair billowed like a shiny waterfall down her back and framed a finely chiseled face. Her eyes were large and slightly almond shaped; the nose, small and straight. Her mouth was generous with full, sensual lips. Her petite body didn’t bear the slightest evidence of two pregnancies. Irene noticed that the woman in the door opening barely reached her chest.

Irene and Hannu introduced themselves and Sara Bolin let them into the pink-painted shoeboxlike row house. She held her arms tightly wrapped around herself, as if she were freezing. She looked very thin and frail in a black long-sleeved cotton shirt and black pants.

“Kristian is sleeping and Johannes is with the neighbor’s kids, playing. He’s only three and doesn’t understand what’s happened. Sometimes he asks about Pappa but he’s used to his father working a lot and often being away.”

Sara’s voice broke and tears glimmered in her dark eyes. She turned her face away and said, “Please, come in.”

She gestured toward a pair of open glass doors. The police officers entered the small living room and sat on a comfortable leather couch. The couch was light brown and the rug under the glass coffee table was light beige. Everything was free of stains and dust. Irene had a feeling that the little boys weren’t allowed in this room.

“Maybe I should put on some coffee?” said Sara Bolin.

Before Irene had time to say yes, Hannu replied, “No, thank you. We won’t be here very long.”

Sara didn’t insist but sank down onto a couch across from Irene and Hannu. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Irene could see her knuckles turning white.

“Have you caught him?” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

Calmly, Hannu asked, “Who?”

She gave a start and gave Hannu a look of disapproval.

“The one that did. . that. . to Erik.”

“No. We’re following several leads. Personally, do you have any suspicions of someone?” Irene asked.

Sara aimed her beautiful eyes at Irene and shook her head sadly.

“No. I don’t understand who would want to. . Why?”

“Erik was never threatened, never said that he felt threatened?”

“No. Never! He was the nicest person in the world. Liked by everyone,” Sara said firmly.

Irene looked at her and nodded thoughtfully. “Right. Erik said that you were aware of his bisexuality when you got married. Is that true?”

The slender body collapsed. After a while, Sara sat up and said defiantly, “Yes. I knew about it. But I was the one he loved. No woman could want a better man than Erik. Why are you asking me this?”

“There are signs that point to sexual activity before the murder,” said Irene.

It was repulsive having to inform the widow about this particularly sensitive point, but the fact was that Professor Stridner had identified semen on Erik Bolin’s body. The strange thing was that it was in his hair. She hadn’t found any in the rectum or anywhere else. The analysis wasn’t complete so she couldn’t say who the seminal fluid had come from.

If it turned out to have been from someone other than Erik Bolin, the technicians would send the DNA analysis to Copenhagen to match against the semen stain found under Emil’s bed.

Sara’s voice was tense as she replied. “We loved each other tremendously from the first time we met. There was a lot of passion in the beginning; we felt we were right for each other. He told me about his bisexuality before we moved in together. I can’t say that he deceived me. He was completely open. But I didn’t have a choice since I loved him so much. Either I had to accept his orientation or I would have had to leave him. The latter never felt like an option.”

“Then you were prepared to share him with a man?” Irene wondered.

Sara started twisting a strand of her hair. It took a while before she answered, “No. Not to share him with anyone else. But I thought that his love for me was so strong that he had gotten over. . that.”

She fell silent and started absentmindedly making a knot in the strand of hair. To get her to continue, Irene said, “From what I understand he hadn’t gotten over it.”

Sara gave a start as if Irene had stuck her with a needle. With resignation she said, “No. When I was pregnant with Johannes I understood that he had been seeing someone else. It turned out to be Marcus Tosscander. We had a terrible fight. Then Erik said that he felt like half a person sometimes. He was missing something when he was together with me. It was. . terrible.”

“How did you react?”

“I left him. I moved out. But I couldn’t function without Erik. Before Johannes was born I moved back. Erik made a solemn vow to try and resist his. . other desire. I know that it didn’t always work. But his relationships never hurt us. He was an amazingly good father and husband.”

“Did you notice anything recently that could point to Erik’s having had a new man?”

“No. Sometimes-”

She stopped herself and bit her lip. With a defiant gesture she threw her hair back, lifted her chin, and looked Irene straight in the eye.

“Sometimes he would work late. And he often worked far from home. I couldn’t check what he was doing every second. I had to trust him.”

Irene thought about the old saying You see what you want to see. She decided to change tacks and put her hand in her jacket pocket. Her fingertips touched the envelope holding the photos of Tom Tanaka’s two pictures. She placed the pictures on top of the coffee table. Sara Bolin leaned forward and inspected both photographs. When she examined the picture of Marcus more closely, she recoiled. She realized that they had noticed her reaction and she said in a shaky voice, “The picture of Marcus didn’t look like that. The one that Erik had at the exhibition.”

“What do you mean? Is it the wrong picture?” Hannu asked innocently.

“No, not the wrong picture. . but it didn’t look like. . this!”

With a shaking index finger, Sara pointed at Marcus’s magnificent erection. In the exhibition picture, Marcus’s hanging hand had nonchalantly concealed his sex. But Irene understood Sara’s distress. The picture on the table radiated lust and desire: Marcus seen through his lover’s eye.

Sara stared as though entranced at the picture, and finally she whispered, “He swore that it was over. He swore!”