The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules

by Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg

  Petra put back the tools, put the garbage bag with the other rubbish and checked that she hadn’t dropped anything on the floor. Then she wrapped the pictures in the protective paper again, put them in two black plastic bags and put these in the suitcase she had brought with her. For a few moments, she stared at the suitcase before locking it, then she pulled out the handle and wheeled it along to the elevator. What she was doing was not theft. She was just borrowing the pictures a while, and as soon as she had got the reward, the pictures would be back in the museum.

  Nobody paid any attention to her when she left the hotel, and on the underground she was just one of many travellers with a suitcase. When she got home, she closed the door and gave a sigh of relief. Her little picture expedition had been a success, and if she hadn’t taken care of the works of art they might have been lost for ever. Indeed, she was actually rather proud of her achievement. The paintings were now safe. She made a cup of tea and ate a sandwich before dealing with them. She looked around and decided that the best place for them would be over the sofa. So she hung up the pictures, took a few steps back, and with a look of satisfaction on her face observed how the King and Queen smiled at her from their gilded frames. Nobody, absolutely nobody, would ever think of looking for a Renoir and a Monet in a student room.

  Fifty-Two

  Heavy clouds hung over the country house park and there was thunder in the air when Christina and Anna-Greta arrived at Hinseberg. When the gates were opened and Martha caught sight of her friends, she was filled with warmth. At last she would be able to spend time with her old soulmates again, and that would be such a relief because the last few days had been particularly trying.

  When Liza got better, it turned out that she wouldn’t be able to get a temporary release for several weeks because all the probation officers at the prison were fully booked, and then came the holidays. Yes, it would be quite a while before she got out. Liza glared angrily at Martha as if she suspected something. Martha understood exactly. Someone like her would be certain to take her revenge.

  It took quite a long time for Christina and Anna-Greta to go through the strip search, get installed in their cells and then receive their first introduction. Evidently, everything went well because only a few hours later you could hear a horn concerto coming from Anna-Greta’s room. According to the rules, you could only bring in five personal items, including flowerpots, books and CDs. Anna-Greta seemed to have managed to convince some poor screw that she couldn’t survive without her vinyl records. The screws probably just couldn’t take her neighing. It had been different when Martha arrived—she hadn’t even been allowed to bring in her knitting and the half-finished cardigan.

  After lunch, the weather cleared up and Martha went into the yard. The three would be meeting for the first time since Kronoberg and she was apprehensive. The other two would surely be angry with her now that they had seen what a real prison was like. When the door opened and her friends came out into the yard, she had to inhale deeply several times before going to meet them. The sun was shining and there was a lovely scent from the lilac bushes. The cherry trees were in full blossom, and the air felt warm and mild.

  ‘I hope you aren’t angry at me for getting you involved in this,’ said Martha when she had greeted them and they had turned down onto the track that led through the grounds. The birds were singing and everybody except Anna-Greta could hear the wind in the tree tops.

  ‘Angry? But goodness, not at all! I haven’t had so much fun since the parties at the bank,’ Anna-Greta exclaimed. She fumbled with her lighter and lit a cigarillo. Christina and Martha looked at each other in astonishment. Their friend took a deep drag, coughed and then went on: ‘Yes, just look how lovely it is here. This is quite something in comparison to the boring old lounge at Diamond House.’

  Christina agreed. ‘Why should we be sorry? This is what we were yearning for. A nice place to live with the chance to be outdoors everyday. Besides, they serve us food made in their own kitchens. Pity about the old boys, of course, but we must console ourselves as best we can.’

  ‘Console ourselves?’ Martha wondered.

  ‘Yes, without Brains and Rake we will have to make do with the screws. I saw several of them when I arrived here. Good-looking men; handsome and without a beer belly. The ones I saw had lots of muscles. The one with the sideburns isn’t bad at all.’

  ‘But Christina! What would Rake say?’ said Martha. Anna-Greta seemed to be dreaming of something far away.

  ‘You know what? Gunnar came to visit me in remand prison.’

  ‘Gunnar, how on earth?’ Christina asked.

  ‘He is shy, of course. When he finally plucked up the courage and sought me out at the Grand Hotel, I was already behind bars. That didn’t stop him, though; he actually went and found out where I was.’

  ‘That’s amazing! Is he the one who got you to start smoking cigarillos?’ Martha wondered.

  ‘Yes, do you want one? I can ask the screw to hand them out to you too.’

  ‘Thank you, but we can manage nicely without,’ said Christina and Martha with one voice, and they backed away from the smoke.

  ‘And Gunnar, well,’ Anna-Greta went on with a happy smile on her lips, ‘he didn’t condemn me at all; on the contrary. He had read about the art coup and thought it was fantastic that we had fooled the National Museum as well as the police. All the women he had met before had been so boring, he said, and in comparison to them I was a wonderful tornado.’

  ‘Tornado?’ Martha savoured the expression. Not just a ‘refreshing breeze’ but a ‘tornado’. If he was judging her by her voice, then he had hit the nail on the head.

  ‘He promised to visit me here too.’

  ‘No!’ said Martha.

  ‘And you know what?’ Anna-Greta continued, ‘Gunnar has a large record collection and has lent me three crates with vinyl records. Best of all, he likes Swedish gospel and there are several records with Lapp-Lisa. He loves it when she sings “Childhood Faith”.’

  ‘Jackpot,’ Martha muttered.

  ‘Anyhow, it’s really nice here,’ said Christina with a glance at the lawns. ‘It is like sitting in a huge garden.’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it!’ said Martha. ‘In the old days prisoners lived in old wooden buildings, but—’

  ‘Inmates,’ Anna-Greta corrected her, as she thought everything should be called by its proper name.

  ‘But it was extremely primitive and you had to ask when you wanted to go to the toilet. The buildings were demolished some years ago, so now we have this park instead.’ Martha was proud to share the knowledge she had acquired about their new residence.

  ‘A country-house setting, and almost as grand as the Grand Hotel,’ exclaimed Christina and she gestured with her arms as if she wanted to embrace the whole world.

  ‘The Grand Hotel? That’s a bit of an exaggeration,’ Anna-Greta snorted. ‘This is nothing in comparison with a house in Djursholm, and have you seen the chain-link fencing? So tasteless, and it is four metres high. But we don’t have to pay for the rooms, of course. When they charged my card at the Grand Hotel, that gobbled up three years’ worth of savings. And I want that money back, just so you know.’

  ‘Of course!’ said Martha and Christina at the same time.

  ‘But the Grand Hotel had a fine spa, and we had fun, didn’t we?’ said Christina. ‘At Diamond House we just sat and stared at the ugly blocks of flats across the street.’

  ‘The grounds here are lovely, and there is a gym too,’ Martha added.

  ‘Excellent. I have started to build up my muscles—or whatever it’s called,’ said Anna-Greta. ‘Gunnar likes beauty, he has told me. By the way, is there a spa here?’ She took a last drag on the cigarillo, threw it to the ground and pushed it into the earth with her heel.

  ‘No, but there is a sauna of sorts,’ Martha answered. ‘And a kiosk. And we can receive visits. But only from people who don’t have a criminal record. A pity about Brains and Rake. You, Anna-Greta, are
the only one who’ll get to see her man.’

  ‘Neeeiiigh!’ she exclaimed, and it sounded louder and more pleased than usual.

  The three ladies had a lot to talk about, and when they saw an empty bench by the path, they sat down. In the calm, they inhaled all the scents of early summer and looked out over the greenery. Some girls were busy weeding borders, and a bit further away another was cutting the grass. Christina smiled absently.

  ‘You know what, Emma and Anders visited me in the remand prison. They praised me for the art theft and wondered if I had anything else in the pipeline. As if one could steal from a prison! I was so pleased when the children came to see me. I hope they come here too, and that they’ll bring Emma’s new baby,’ Christina babbled on. ‘You know, I’ve got three grandchildren now!’

  Martha, who was childless, pretended to be interested.

  ‘Did everything go all right?’

  ‘Emma had made up her mind to give birth at home, but then her husband said that it was a stupid idea.’

  ‘Usch, yes, what nonsense,’ Anna-Greta agreed.

  ‘Then Emma wanted to give birth in water instead, like in the 1970s.’

  ‘Yes, another fad,’ said Martha, who had read an article about it one day. ‘If it’s not one thing, it’s another.’

  ‘So how did it go, then?’ Anna-Greta asked, now curious.

  ‘She gave birth before they had time to fill the pool with water.’

  Anna-Greta laughed so loudly that if she’d still had the cigarillo in her hand she would have dropped it. Martha and Christina joined in the merriment and had a good laugh just as Liza was walking by.

  ‘You’ll have to be wary of that curly haired girl,’ said Martha, nodding in Liza’s direction. ‘She’s got quite a bite, that one. She asked me about the art theft. Interrogated me, in fact; it was worse than the questioning by the police.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ Anna-Greta exclaimed.

  ‘Unfortunately, I told her that the paintings have disappeared. Then she wanted to help track them down in exchange for a part of the ransom money.’

  ‘What cheek!’ Christina said.

  ‘Yes, and we mustn’t involve more people because then we’ll lose control.’

  ‘Looks like we already have,’ commented Anna-Greta.

  ‘Pah, it’ll sort itself out. But before we commit even one new illegal act, we must find the paintings and give them back to the museum,’ Martha stated forcefully.

  ‘Indeed, but how are we going to do that?’ wondered Christina, who had started to be obsessed with crime. Now she wasn’t reading Selma Lagerlöf and Verner von Heidenstam, the great Swedish classics, but she preferred whodunits. In the remand prison she had listened with bated breath as soon as anybody talked about robberies.

  ‘Perhaps Gunnar can be of help,’ Anna-Greta suggested.

  ‘We weren’t going to involve anybody else,’ Christina pointed out.

  ‘You know, Liza said something about a reward.’ Martha lowered her voice. ‘Not a bad idea. If we announce a reward of one million kronor to the person who finds the paintings, perhaps they will come to light. We do have four or five million in the drainpipe.’

  ‘Are we going to give away one million?’ Anna-Greta opened her eyes wide. ‘No, one hundred thousand should suffice.’

  ‘But the museum must get its paintings. Even villains have their professional honour,’ said Martha.

  ‘As long as we don’t end up in prison,’ Christina squeaked.

  ‘As if we weren’t already here,’ Anna-Greta pointed out.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ Christina announced. Momentarily, she was distracted by some sparrows that had gathered in the bushes just close by, but then she refocussed her attention and continued. ‘We put out an advertisement about a reward as soon as possible and when we get an answer we ask to get a temporary release and—’

  ‘But then we will have a probation officer with us,’ Anna-Greta objected. ‘Perhaps it would be better to wait until we are let out with an electronic tag.’

  ‘But can you stay at the Grand Hotel with an electronic tag?’ Christina wondered.

  ‘No, the police will be able to track us on some computer and see exactly what we do, and then we’ll reveal the money in the drainpipe,’ said Martha.

  ‘Can’t we take the tag off and put it on one of the horses in the guards’ parade instead?’ suggested Anna-Greta, who had ridden as a hobby once upon a time. Martha and Christina looked at each other and wondered it they had heard correctly. Anna-Greta rarely used to joke. Gunnar had achieved miracles.

  ‘We shall have to think this over very thoroughly,’ said Martha finally, ‘concoct a plan and ask for temporary release.’

  The others thought this sounded wise, and they left it at that. But Martha was not at all satisfied, because deep inside she felt a gnawing anxiety about Liza. What if that she-devil found the paintings first?

  Fifty-Three

  Nothing is hopeless and you should never give up, thought Nurse Barbara while she browsed through the papers on her desk. Love is like politics. Almost like buying shares on the stock exchange. You never know which way it will go. She had invested her future in Ingmar, and soon something must happen. She took out her white handkerchief and dried the sweat from her brow. Over in the general lounge two elderly men sat barely awake, and Dolores had dozed off on the sofa. Barbara saw them, but without taking it in. In her head there was only Ingmar. He had problems with his wife. She had returned with the children but then gone back to England the week after. At first, he hadn’t spoken so much about his marriage, but she had noticed that he had become silent and thoughtful. When finally she asked what was wrong, he told her that his wife had fallen in love with a British businessman in London. No man likes to be cut out, so she realized she must console him. She stayed the night with him and now she had several pairs of shoes and dresses in his wardrobe. She felt as if she had caught her fish and was slowly but surely reeling it in.

  ‘Ingmar, darling, what’s going to happen now?’ she ventured to ask some weeks later.

  ‘My wife and I have some things to sort out, but then, dearest, then!’

  Her and him. She quickly realized that he was serious about this when he introduced her to his children.

  ‘This is my colleague, Barbara. I hope you will get on well together,’ he had said as he introduced her to them. Ingmar had started grumbling more about everything he had to do. ‘A pity I have so much overtime, darling, but we’ve got the evenings and the entire nights together.’

  ‘I can help you,’ she said in a sprightly tone, and she went on working to make herself indispensible.

  Now they shared a home and a weekday life. At the end of each day she couldn’t wait to finish work to get home in time to make dinner. Just as if she and Ingmar were already married. She felt she was approaching the goal. Soon, she thought. Soon!

  It was lucky that things seemed to be working out between her and Ingmar, because at work she had problems. Since the art theft at the National Museum nothing had been the same.

  ‘Why should we sit here? I want a bit of action,’ said Sven, aged eighty-four.

  ‘And I want to go on a boat trip on Lake Mälaren,’ his friend Selma, eighty-three, nagged.

  ‘Can’t we all go shopping?’ Gertrude, who was eighty-six, interposed as she tugged on Nurse Barbara’s sleeve. ‘Some new clothes would cheer me up.’

  The oldies went on like that, and when things were at their worst, Nurse Barbara searched frantically for the red pills. She searched and searched but she couldn’t find them. Things didn’t get any better when she went to the chemist’s.

  ‘Those pills weren’t profitable, so we have stopped making them,’ she was informed. The new pills she was offered cost much more. Barbara asked Ingmar what they should do.

  ‘Goodness, we can’t afford such expensive pills,’ he answered. ‘You’ll have to entertain the oldies instead.’ He laughed and gave her a hug.

  I
n the retirement home, things were beginning to get out of hand. Nobody at Diamond House went to bed at eight o’clock, as they were meant to, and they refused to eat the food they were served. And the weirdest of them all was Dolores, who was ninety-three. She went around with a shopping trolley full of blankets and old newspapers and claimed it contained money.

  ‘I’ve been given several million,’ she said every day, pointing at the shopping trolley and looking most satisfied. ‘My son is extremely generous, I must say. To think that I am so well off.’

  Barbara smiled and agreed because that was the best you could do with old people—smile and agree with them. She had learned that on a course.

  Dolores hummed to herself, patted her shopping trolley and beamed. ‘My millions,’ she said and giggled.

  ‘Congratulations,’ everybody said at the home. They got together to give Dolores a fancy cream cake with green marzipan, which was her favourite. A week later, Dolores had painted the trolley handle sky blue because, as she said, the money was a gift from heaven.