“No. No artist. And Stridner hasn’t-” He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. He quickly grabbed the receiver. “Superintendent Andersson. Yes. Oh? Hmm.” Andersson listened to the voice on the phone. From his stiff facial expression and the chattering voice that could be heard, the two listeners could tell he was speaking with Stridner herself. The superintendent’s sulky expression was slowly replaced by one of surprise. He hemmed and hawed monosyllabically before he managed to interrupt the sharp voice on the other end of the line.
“We have a slight problem. We need a drawing of the tattoo. . no, preferably not a photo. . drawing, yes. . would be a bit clearer. Oh, really? Great!”
With the last sentence he brightened up and gave both his inspectors a triumphant look.
“Thanks a lot.”
He put down the receiver and unconsciously rubbed his hands together with satisfaction.
“Stridner will arrange for the sketch. One of the autopsy assistants is working on a degree in art. He’s there today. They’ll send the picture over when it’s finished.”
“Do they know if the victim is a man or a woman?” asked Hannu.
“A man. They did a chromosome test.”
Without changing his expression, he took away the top pages in the pile of missing persons information he was carrying.
“That leaves three,” he said.
“Stridner has also measured the skeleton. She says that the victim is a rather broad-shouldered man between twenty-five and thirty-five years of age, and between one hundred and seventy-five and one hundred and eighty-five centimeters in height. The body hair that was left on the chest was relatively dark. The man probably had dark hair, but not black according to Stridner.”
“A foreigner?” suggested Irene.
“Maybe. But he wasn’t dark skinned and didn’t have black hair. Probably brown to dark brown hair.”
Hannu flipped through his papers and placed yet another page farther back in the pile. “That leaves two,” he said calmly.
Irene could not contain her curiosity and asked, “Was it a man you weeded out?”
Hannu nodded. “Seventy-two years old. White haired. Heavy. One hundred and sixty-seven centimeters. Disappeared in Hindås in January. It’s not him.”
“Hardly. But which ones do you have left?” Andersson interrupted impatiently.
“Steffo Torberg. Thirty-two years old. Disappeared during a furlough from Kumla, March 13. In prison for seven years for bank robbery and manslaughter. He had one year left and had handled all of his furloughs excellently up till then. We know that he took a train to Göteborg to visit his family. Has two children down here with his ex-girlfriend. All traces disappear at the Central Station.”
“Didn’t he have some connection with a motorcycle gang?”
“The Brotherhood.”
“Not the best guys to have problems with? Did he?”
“Not that we know of.”
“Description?”
“One hundred and eighty-three centimeters, weighed about one hundred kilos. In good shape. Shoulder-length thick dark hair. Not black. Dark brown.”
“Tattoos?”
“Tons. Over his entire body.”
The superintendent sighed. “He probably looked like a comic strip.” “Probably.”
To Irene’s surprise, Hannu winked mischievously in her direction. Was he teasing the boss? She wasn’t sure, since he immediately returned to his neutral tone of voice.
“The next one has several tattoos and piercings.”
“Piercings? Damn!” Andersson said emphatically.
“He’s too young. Twenty-two years. Pierre Bardi. Has lived in Sweden for three years. The whole time in Stockholm. Disappeared March 22 after a fight with his live-in girlfriend. Pierre packed his bags and said that he was going back to Paris. He took his passport, two suitcases, and left. No one has seen him since. In Stockholm or in Paris.
“Description?”
“One hundred and seventy-six centimeters, in good shape and good health. Shoulder-length dark brown hair with blond highlights. Large tattoo on the left shoulder blade, right shoulder, and above the left nipple, though no dragon. Piercings in the nipples, through the top of the penis, in the right eyebrow, and in the tongue. Several gold rings in both ears.”
Andersson knitted his eyebrows in concentration. Finally he shook his head. “No. It isn’t either of them. Our body part only has one tattoo. He certainly could have had rings in his nipples, but we don’t know anything about that since the entire chest muscles are missing.”
Hannu nodded in agreement.
“So who is the victim? Could it be a foreigner nobody misses? A sailor?”
“No sailors have been reported missing during the last six months,” Hannu said calmly.
“Whoever he is, no one has reported him missing,” Andersson stated.
“We may have to publish the picture of the tattoo in the papers,” Irene suggested.
Andersson muttered to himself for a moment before he answered. “Maybe so. We’ll wait another day or so and see if we find more pieces of the victim.”
TWO MORE sacks were found that afternoon by a dog patrol searching the coastline south of Killevik. In a small overgrown bay, an old leaky skiff, turned upside down, was lying a few meters from the water. The dog instantly started for the boat, struggling to get to it. The two policemen carefully turned the skiff on its side. When they saw the sacks, they called in backup from Technical and from the Violent Crimes Unit.
The technicians were already hard at work when Irene and Jonny arrived. Svante Malm stopped photographing in order to greet them.
“Appears as though they belong to the same body we found the day before yesterday,” he said.
“What’s inside the sacks?” asked Irene.
“The lower part of the abdomen in one and the thighs in the other.”
The technician got back to his work with the camera.
Irene and Jonny walked around the discovery site. They had to watch where they put their feet because of the treacherously slippery stones and boulders. It was a gray and overcast afternoon, and the lowlying clouds warned of rain for the evening. Appropriately, a gloomy light shone over the ocean and the police officers on the beach. Beach grass was growing thickly around the skiff.
“Good hiding place,” Jonny pointed out.
“Yeah. No one comes here to swim. It’s too overgrown,” Irene agreed.
“Was the sack with the upper body also deposited here?”
They looked around, trying to answer the question. Finally Irene said, “No. It couldn’t have been under the skiff. There’s no chance that it could have washed out during high tide.”
“So then, there are more hiding places.”
“Yes, but probably close by. How far is it from here to Killevik?”
“As the crow flies I would guess four hundred meters.”
“It’s easy to get here by car.”
They looked up toward the little gravel road that followed the coastline in a north-south line.
“You can get all the way down to Kungsbacka on these roads,” said Jonny.
“It’s just a matter of continuing to search along the ocean and the smaller roads.”
“ IT ’ S AFTER six. Go home. You aren’t working this weekend. Fredrik and I are on duty,” said Birgitta.
“But you have the murder behind Flora’s Hill,” Irene objected.
“We’ve actually gotten a tip that Fredrik is checking out. It may be a jealousy killing. That wasn’t what we would have suspected would happen to Laban. Apparently, he had been together with a relatively young girl. Since she is a drug addict and he was a dealer they had a lot in common. Supposedly, the girl’s ex went around telling the world what he was planning on doing to Laban when he got his hands on him. Stabbing him to death was the least of it. We only know the ex’s first name. Robert. Apparently, he is also her pimp.”
“Has Fredrik gone to talk to Robe
rt on his own?” asked Irene.
“No, he’s just going to get a fix on his whereabouts. Then we’ll bring him into the station for interrogation. If we’re lucky we can pull him in over the weekend. So the investigation of Laban’s murder is going forward. But I don’t think anything will happen with the murder-mutilation case in the next few days. Pathology is going to look at the pieces and that usually takes a while. Are they going to continue searching with dogs over the weekend?”
“Yes, and the Harbor Police are searching the coast. Hannu has gone through the register but there isn’t anyone reported missing who matches our victim. Actually, there isn’t a lot we can do right now.”
IRENE UNLOCKED the door to her old Saab 99:a. It was twelve years old and was affectionately cared for by the Huss family. They might be forced to buy a new car at any time, and every day that this was put off was valuable. Irene felt lighthearted even though it was raining heavily. Krister had his usual Friday off and she knew that meant good food and good wine. It would have to compensate for his having to work the rest of the weekend. That was the way it went when you were married to someone in the restaurant business. And, for that matter, to someone who worked as a police officer.
“ DEAR, COULD you take Sammie out for a walk? The food isn’t quite ready yet.” Krister’s voice could be heard from the kitchen.
Judging by the smell, the food was coming along nicely. Irene suddenly realized how hungry she was. Sammie came down the stairs calmly. He had taken a nap before supper and, just to be different, had slept so deeply he hadn’t heard his mistress come in. But he woke up when he heard the words “out” and “Sammie.” Then he knew it was time for a walk.
Irene put on her rain clothes since it was bucketing down outside. Even when it poured in the spring it never got dark. Despite that, Irene didn’t see anyone until the woman and her dog were almost on top of her. She suddenly became aware of movement out of the corner of her eye. Before she had the chance to turn, she heard a piercing voice say, “Have you found a home for the puppies yet?”
Sammie became excited and threw himself at his black girlfriend. She was reserved but nothing compared with her mistress. The elderly woman looked as though she had just drunk a bottle of vinegar.
Furious, Irene didn’t make any attempt at being friendly. “No. I’ve worked late every evening this week. Police officers usually don’t have time to have a dog, and the others I meet in my line of work aren’t allowed to have them. They are forbidden both in holding cells and prisons.
“Actually, it takes two people to care for a child and that goes for dogs as well. We’ll get in touch if we hear of anyone who is thinking about getting a dog, but you also need to do your part. Put in an ad, for example.”
“That costs money. If you had any idea what I’ve had to pay for the vet and food. .”
“Even if they’re mixed breed, you’ll still be paid for them. We aren’t going to request a stud fee. A healthy mixed-breed puppy costs fifteen hundred SEK.”*
The pursed look on the neighbor lady’s face lessened a bit.
“That much?”
“Yes. Purebred wheaten terriers cost about seven thousand SEK.”
“That much!”
She was a really boring person to talk with. Irene had to end this conversation before her entire Friday evening was ruined.
“You’ll have to excuse me but I have food in the oven. We’ll get in touch as soon as someone who is interested shows up,” she said.
THE.FOOD was exquisite. Salmon filet baked on a bed of coarse salt, saffron sauce, lightly steamed sugar peas, and a green salad put Irene in a good mood again. Krister had bought a new wine that they were trying.
“Somerton. Australian. Comes in red as well,” he said.
“Fantastic with the salmon.” Irene was no expert but she had learned a great deal from Krister over the years.
“Where are the girls?” she asked.
“Jenny was going to a try out with a band. Katarina was picked up by that kid, Micke. Apparently, he was allowed to borrow his father’s car.”
“As long as he drives carefully. Where were they going?”
“To a party in Askim. A classmate of Micke’s has a birthday.”
“Did Jenny want to be picked up somewhere?”
“No. Pia’s parents were going to drive them.”
“Good. Then we can open another bottle.”
THE PHONE rang just before three o’clock. Half awake, Irene heard Krister answer. Then he sat up straight and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“I understand. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
Heavy with sleep, Irene mumbled, “What was that about?”
“It was Sahlgren Hospital. Katarina and Micke were in an accident. They aren’t seriously hurt but they had to be patched up at the emergency room. It was Katarina herself who called. She wants to be picked up. Micke has to stay overnight for observation. It seems he had a head injury.”
Irene started to come out of her wine-induced sleep. Her heart began to race and, suddenly, she was wide awake. Her daughter had been injured. She quickly got out of bed but then had to sink back down when the floor started moving under her feet. She had probably consumed a bottle and a half by herself, far too much when she was tired to begin with.
Krister said, “Stay here. I’ll go get her. She was able to call so she can’t be hurt that bad. There’s no reason to wake up Jenny. She may wake on her own when we come home.”
He patted Irene on the cheek and dressed. Irene lay down again but now she couldn’t relax. She was wide awake. That something horrible could happen to your kids when they were out on their own was every parent’s worst nightmare! Monika Lind and Isabell, who was missing in Copenhagen, came to mind.
She wrapped herself in her bathrobe and went down to the kitchen. With a heavy snore, Sammie rolled over into the wonderfully warm hollow in the bed that she had vacated.
It would have to be a cup of instant coffee. She warmed the water in the microwave, and while she waited found a package of old rice cakes.
* SEK refers to Krona, the basic unit of money in Sweden. One Krona equals 0.128085 dollars, so fifteen hundred SEK is about $192. When the coffee was ready, she sat at the kitchen table and chewed listlessly on one of the dry cakes.
Jenny was home, at least. She had been very satisfied with her evening’s performance. The audition had turned out even better than she’d expected. They had asked her to come back and rehearse with them. She had been very excited and had bubbled with enthusiasm as she sat on the end of their bed telling them about the band. Polo, that was the name. Irene was pretty sure that Jenny had said Polo.
Irene had barely had time to finish her coffee when Jenny came downstairs.
“What’s happened to Katarina?” she asked, and yawned.
How did she know anything had happened to her sister? Was it an example of the telepathic contact twins were said to have in certain situations? But wasn’t that only for identical twins, thought Irene.
“I dreamed that Katarina was sad and in pain. And then she had a bandage on her face,” Jenny continued.
Irene tried to hide her surprise. “Pappa has gone to get her at the emergency room. She and Micke were in an accident. It can’t be that bad since she’s allowed to come home.”
The last sentence was mostly to comfort herself. Jenny filled a glass with apple juice and fixed herself a sandwich while they waited.
When they heard steps at the outside door, both of them jumped up and rushed out into the hall. Krister opened the door and let Katarina in. She had a large bandage over her right eyebrow.
Krister smiled broadly. “Everything’s fine. She has a bruised shoulder and a few stitches above her eyebrow.”
ON SATURDAY afternoon the Huss family ate a late breakfast. The mood around the breakfast table was uneasy. Katarina complained about pain in her shoulder and neck muscles, but otherwise she felt pretty good.
“How did the
accident happen?” Irene asked.
“We were going through an intersection and we had a green light. Then that idiot came and drove right into the side of Micke’s car. Or rather his father’s car. It’s almost new. His father is going to go insane!”
“Was Micke drinking at the party?”
Katarina tried to shake her head fiercely but stopped herself and with a small whimper rubbed the side of her neck.
“No, he had Coca-Cola because he’s scared to death about his new driver’s license. And the car-”
“What about the driver of the other car? Was he sober?”
“Don’t know. I was looking out the window on my side of the car and didn’t see him when he drove into us. There was just a wham on Micke’s side of the car. Afterward I was probably in shock and. . like gone, kinda. I don’t even remember what the other driver looked like. He was bleeding from his forehead like a pig. Apparently, he hit the windshield with his head. I don’t think he was wearing a seat belt.”
“Who called the ambulance?”
“I did. Micke had his cell phone with him, so I called.”
“What time was it when the accident happened?”
“Just before one o’clock.”
“The nurse at the emergency room thought that we should make an appointment at the clinic and have a doctor look at Katarina’s neck and shoulder. There’s a risk of whiplash in these types of accidents,” Krister said.
“What about my training for the National Championship?!” Katarina burst out.
Irene understood how Katarina felt but also realized the injuries could worsen if she started training again too soon.
“You can’t start training before the pains in your throat and neck are gone,” she said sternly.
“Good-bye, National Championship,” her daughter retorted drearily.
Chapter 4
“ WE WON’T GET ANYTHING from Stridner until tomorrow, and we still don’t know who the victim is,” Superintendent Andersson said on Monday morning.
All the officers were there with the exception of Birgitta Moberg and Fredrik Stridh, who were busy interrogating Robert Larsson about the murder of Lennart Kvist. Before they entered the interrogation room, Birgitta had told Irene, “Narcotics says that he’s a real bad guy but he hasn’t been arrested in the last seven years. Before that, they had him up for possession and bootlegging. He was interrogated in an assault case but they were never able to prove anything. The witness was frightened into silence. He owns a strip club down by Masthuggskajen called Wonder Bar. The last few years he has expanded into prostitution and right now he is the object of an ongoing investigation into pimping. He doesn’t know about it; one of his girls probably squealed. It isn’t a good idea to rough up your source of income. It might be that girl Laban was with, but that’s just speculation on my part. I don’t know anything for certain.”
The Torso dih-2 Page 4
