'Hello, that was fast.' Eva glanced at the clock. 'I hope you didn't break any speed limits on the way over here.' She feigned a disapproving look and he laughed.
'No, no danger of that. Besides, I happen to know that the police are busy with other things today,' he whispered conspiratorially with a wink. He recalled that he'd liked Eva the first time he met her. She had a special talent for making people relax in her company. It must be a gift particular to people in her profession.
Martin set out the lunch on a little table in her office.
'I hope prawn salad will do.'
'That's perfect,' replied Eva, getting up from her chair behind the desk and sitting down on one of the four chairs around the table.
'Actually I'm only fooling myself,' she said as she poured the entire contents of the little container of dressing on the salad. 'After all this liquid fat has covered the veggies, I might as well have ordered a hamburger. But a salad feels better psychologically. That way I might be able to convince myself that I can indulge in a piece of cake tonight.' She laughed so hard her breasts jiggled.
Martin could see from her plump figure that she probably convinced herself of that quite often, but she was elegantly dressed and her grey hair was cut short in a style that looked modern yet suitable for her age.
'So, you wanted to know more about Asperger's syndrome,' she said.
'Yes, I encountered it for the first time yesterday, and at this stage I'm mostly just curious,' said Martin as he impaled a prawn on his fork.
'Well, I do know something about it, but I've never actually had a patient with that diagnosis, so I had to read up on the subject before you came. What is it you want to know, more specifically? There's plenty to say about it.'
'Let's see,' Martin said, giving it some thought. 'Maybe you could tell me a bit about what characterizes someone with Asperger's, and how you can tell that's what it is.'
'First of all, it's a diagnosis that hasn't been in use until quite recently. It probably appeared about fifteen years ago, but it was first documented back in the forties by Hans Asperger. It's a functional disorder. Some researchers now claim he may have had the malady himself.'
Martin nodded and let Eva continue.
'It's a form of autism, but the person most often has normal to high intelligence.'
Martin recognized this from what Morgan had said.
Eva went on, 'What makes it hard to describe Asperger's syndrome is that the symptoms can vary from one individual to another, and they're divided into several groups. Some people withdraw inside themselves, more like classic autism, while others are extremely outgoing. And Asperger's is seldom discovered early. Parents may be concerned that their child's behaviour is abnormal in some way, without being able to say exactly what's wrong. And as I said, the problem is that it can vary considerably from one child to another. Some Asperger's children start talking unusually early, some unusually late, and the same is true of starting to walk and lots of other developmental areas. Normally the problem doesn't show up before school age, but that's also when it can be wrongly diagnosed as ADHD or DAMP.'
'And how does the problem manifest itself then?' Martin was so fascinated that he was neglecting his lunch. Before he applied for the police academy he had toyed with the idea of studying psychology, and sometimes he wondered whether he might have made the wrong choice. Nothing was as interesting as the human psyche in all its myriad forms.
'The most obvious symptoms are probably the difficulties that arise with social interaction. The children consistently behave in an improper fashion. They don't understand social rules, and they may have a tendency to blurt out the truth, which obviously makes it hard to get along with other people. There is also a strong egocentricity. They have a hard time relating to other people's feelings and experiences and care only about themselves. Often they don't have much need to be with other people. If they do play with other children they either try to decide everything or they completely submit to the other children's will. The latter is more common among girls with the syndrome. Another clear indication is if the child develops a special interest that becomes an obsession. Children with Asperger's have the capacity to become incredibly detail-oriented, and they often learn everything about their special interest. For adults it's often exciting to watch the child develop his knowledge, but Asperger children have such one- track minds and are so often consumed by their special passion that others soon lose interest. When the children reach school age, obsessive thoughts and actions start becoming noticeable. They have to do things in a certain way, and they also force people around them to do things that way.'
'What about language?' asked Martin, recalling Morgan's odd way of expressing himself.
'Yes, language is another strong indicator.' Eva scraped the last of her salad from the plastic bowl and then continued. 'It's one of the big difficulties that people with Asperger's syndrome encounter in their daily lives. When we humans communicate, we usually express much more than what our words say. We use body language and facial expressions, we modify the intonation of a sentence, use different emphasis, and vigorously employ similes and metaphors. All these things present difficulties for someone with Asperger's. An expression such as "we'll probably have to skip coffee" could be understood as meaning that one should jump over a coffee cup. When speaking, they also have a hard time understanding hearing how they sound to other people. Their voice could be very soft, almost a whisper, or very loud and shrill. Often it is droning and monotonous.'
Martin nodded. Morgan's voice fit with that latter description.
'The person I met also had an odd way of moving. Is that common?'
Eva nodded. 'Motor function is also a distinct sign. It can be awkward, stiff, or extremely minimalistic. Stereotypy also occurs frequently.'
She could see from Martin's expression that she needed to explain that last term.
'That means stereotypical movements that are repeated, such as small waves of the hand.'
'If the person with Asperger's has trouble with motor skills, does it apply to everything he does?' Martin remembered how Morgan's fingers flew smoothly over the keyboard.
'No, not really. It's common that in conjunction with his special interest, or if he's doing something that particularly fascinates him, he can have very high-functioning fine-motor skills.'
'What are the teen years like for kids with this syndrome?'
'Well, that's a whole other story. But would you like some coffee before we go on? It's a lot of information to take in. Are you going to take notes, by the way, or is your memory that good?'
Martin pointed to the little tape recorder he'd placed on the table. 'My assistant will take care of that. But I won't say no to a cup of coffee.' His stomach was grumbling a little. Salad was not what he usually ate for lunch, and he knew he'd have to stop at a hot-dog stand on the way back.
After a while Eva came back with a cup of steaming hot coffee in each hand. She sat down and continued her lecture.
'Where were we? Oh yes, the teen years. Once again that's a time when it's rather difficult to diagnose a person with Asperger's if he or she hasn't been diagnosed previously. So many of the usual problems of adolescence come up, but they're often amplified and made more extreme by Asperger's. Hygiene, for example, is a big problem. Many are careless with their daily hygiene. They don't feel like taking a shower, brushing their teeth, or changing clothes. Going to school becomes problematic. They have a hard time grasping the importance of making an effort in school, and problems also continue in social interactions with schoolmates and other contemporaries. This makes it difficult and sometimes impossible for them to work in groups, which are becoming more prevalent in secondary school and the gym. Depression is common, as well as antisocial behaviour.'
Martin pricked up his ears at this. 'What would you include in that category?'
'Things such as violent crimes, break-ins, and arson.'
'So there's an increased tendency for persons
with Asperger's to commit crimes of violence?'
'Well, it's not that those suffering from Asperger's as a whole are more inclined to violence, but the percentage is definitely higher than in the general population. As I said before, they have a strong ego fixation and difficulty understanding and involving themselves in other people's feelings. Lack of empathy is a strong personality trait. To simplify somewhat, one might say that common sense is a concept that is lacking in someone with Asperger's.'
'If a person with Asperger's…' Martin hesitated, 'was implicated in a homicide investigation, would there be a reason to pay closer attention to him?'
Eva took his question seriously and paused to ponder her reply.
'I can't answer that. Of course there are, as I said, certain characteristics in the diagnosis that lower the barrier that prevents most people from committing acts of violence. At the same time it's an exceedingly small percentage of people with Asperger's who go to the extreme of committing murder. Yes, I do read the papers, so I know what case you're talking about,' she said, cradling her coffee cup pensively in her hands. 'It's my personal opinion that it would be extremely risky to go down that road, if you know what I mean.'
Martin nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. It had happened many times before that people ended up being wrongly accused simply because they were different. But knowledge is power, and he still felt it had been very valuable to get an insight into Morgan's world.
'I'd really like to thank you for taking the time to talk with me. I hope the errands you had to postpone because of me weren't urgent.'
'No, not at all,' said Eva, getting up to show him out. 'A little badly needed renewal of my wardrobe is all. In other words, nothing that can't wait till next week.'
She accompanied him to the cloakroom and waited while he put on his jacket, which was actually dry by now.
'I'm glad I don't have to go out in this crummy weather,' said Eva. They peered out of the window at the rain that was still pouring down and making big puddles on the square.
'Yes, it's looking like it's going to be autumn forever,' replied Martin, holding out his hand to say goodbye.
'Thanks for the lunch, by the way. And do call if you have any more questions. It was a pleasure to be able to brush up on a particular subject. I don't often get a chance to do that.'
'Right. Well, I'll give you a ring if I need to. Thanks again.'
* * *
FJÅLLBACKA 1924
The delivery was more horrible than Agnes could ever have imagined. She had been in the throes of labour for almost forty- eight hours and was close to dying, before the doctor finally leaned his whole weight on her belly and forced the first child out into the world. For there were two. The second boy soon followed, and they proudly showed her the babies after they had been washed and wrapped in warm blankets. But Agnes turned away. She didn't want to see the creatures that had destroyed her life and had brought her so near death. As far as she was concerned, they could give those babies away, or toss them in the river or do whatever they liked with them. Their tiny, shrill voices tore at her ears. After being forced to listen to that sound for a while, she covered her ears and bellowed at the woman holding them to take them away. In horror the nurse obeyed, and Agnes could hear people starting to whisper around her. But the shrieks faded, and now she just wanted to be allowed to sleep. Sleep for a hundred years, to be wakened by a kiss from a prince who would take her away from all this misery and from the two demanding little monsters that her body had expelled.
When she awoke she thought at first that her dream had been granted. A tall, dark figure stood leaning over her, and for a moment she thought she saw the prince she'd been waiting for. But then reality came crashing down on her. She saw that it was Anders's stupid face bending towards her. The sight of the loving expression on his face made her sick. Did he think that things between them would be different now, just because she had squeezed out two sons for him? She would be happy if he could take them away and let her have her freedom back. For a brief moment she noticed how that thought aroused a jubilant feeling in her breast. She was no longer huge and shapeless and pregnant. She could leave if she liked, find the life she deserved, the life where she belonged. Then she realized how impossible that would be. Since there was no chance of returning to her father, where would she go? She had no money of her own and no way of obtaining any, other than selling herself on the streets. Even her present life was better than that. The hopelessness of her situation made her turn her head away and sob. Anders gently stroked her hair. If she could have managed it she would have raised her arms to shove his hands away.
They're so beautiful, Agnes. They're just perfect.' His voice was quivering a little.
She didn't reply, just stared at the wall and shut out everything else. If only somebody would come and take her away from here.
* * *
Sara still hadn't come back. Mamma had explained that she wasn't going to, but Frida hadn't believed her. She thought it was just something Mamma was saying. Sara couldn't simply disappear like that, could she? If so, Frida regretted that she hadn't been nicer to her. She wouldn't have fought so much with Sara when she took her toys, but just let her have them. Now it was probably too late.
She went over to the window and looked up at the sky again. It was grey and dirty-looking. Sara wouldn't like living there, would she?
Then there was the whole secret about the old man, too. Of course she'd promised Sara to keep quiet. But Mamma said that she should always tell the truth, and not saying anything was almost the same as lying, wasn't it?
Frida sat down in front of her dollhouse. It was her favourite toy. It had belonged to her mamma when she was little, and now it was Frida's. She had a hard time imagining that Mamma was once the same age as Frida was now. Mamma was so… grownup, after all.
The dollhouse showed clear traces of being from the '70s. It was supposed to represent a two-storey brick house and it was furnished in brown and orange. The furniture was the same as when her mother had played with the dollhouse. Frida thought all the pieces were super, but it was a shame that there weren't more pink and blue things in the dollhouse. Blue was her favourite colour. And pink had been Sara's favourite. Frida thought it was odd. Everyone knew that pink and red clashed, and Sara had red hair, so she shouldn't have liked pink. But she did anyway. That was how she always was. Contrary, sort of.
There were four dolls that went with the house. Two child dolls and a mamma and a pappa doll. Now she took the two child dolls, both girls, and set them facing each other. Usually she wanted to be the one in green, because she was the nicest-looking, but now that Sara was dead she could be the green one. Frida would have to be the doll in the brown dress.
'Hi, Frida, do you know that I'm dead?' said the green Sara doll.
'Yes, Mamma told me,' said the brown one.
'What does she say about it?'
'That you've gone to heaven and won't be coming over to play with me anymore.'
'How boring,' said the Sara doll.
Frida nodded her doll's head. 'Yes, I think so too. If I knew you were going to die and wouldn't come over to play with me anymore, you could have had whatever toys you wanted and I wouldn't have complained.'
'What a shame,' said the Sara doll. 'That I'm dead, I mean.'
'Yes, what a shame,' said the one in brown.
Both dolls were silent for a moment. Then the Sara doll said in a serious tone of voice, 'You didn't say anything about the man, did you?'
'No, I promised.'
'Because it was our secret.'
'But why can't I tell? The old man was nasty, wasn't he?' The brown doll's voice sounded shrill.
'That's why. The old man said that I mustn't tell. And you have to do whatever nasty old men say'
'But you're dead, so the old man can't do anything, can he?'
The Sara doll had nothing to say to that. Frida carefully put the dolls back in the house and went over to stand by the wi
ndow again. Imagine that everything had to be so hard, just because Sara had died.
Annika was back from lunch and called out to Patrik when he and Ernst returned. He merely waved, in a hurry to get to his office, but she insisted. He stopped in the doorway with a curious expression on his face. Annika peered at him over the top of her glasses. He looked exhausted, and the rain had given him the appearance of a drowned cat besides. But between the baby and the murder of a child he probably didn't have much energy left to take care of himself.
She saw the impatience in Patrik's eyes and hurried to tell him what she wanted to report. 'I got a number of calls today, because of the media coverage.'
'Anything of interest?' said Patrik without much enthusiasm. It was so seldom they got anything useful from the public that he didn't have very high hopes.
'Yes and no,' said Annika. 'Most of them are from the usual gossips who ring up to pass on hot tips about their sworn enemies and all sorts of people, and in this case the homophobia has really been rampant. Apparently, any man who works with flowers or cuts hair is automatically suspected of being homosexual and capable of doing horrid things to children.'
Patrik was shifting from one foot to the other, and Annika rushed on. She took the top note from the pile and handed it to him.
'This one seems like it might be something. A woman rang, refused to give a name, but said we ought to take a look at the medical records of Sara's little brother. That's all she would say, but something told me there might be something to it. Could be worth following up on, anyway.'
Patrik didn't look nearly as interested as she had hoped. On the other hand he hadn't heard the urgency in the voice of the woman who rang. Her tone differed markedly from the poorly disguised malice of those who loved to spread gossip.
The Stone Cutter Page 20
