“Is there a lot of money in this sort of thing?”
Lefévre treated himself to a smile for the first time since he had opened the door for them. Without attempting to conceal his satisfaction, he said, “Yes. Lots.”
Glen rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. “Let’s see … we’ve spoken about Monday. Nothing unusual happened on Tuesday?”
Christian’s smile disappeared as if someone had shut off a circuit breaker. “No. Nothing strange happened on Tuesday. Except that I slept late in the morning. I guess I had too much beer and whiskey at the pub the night before. But I bought croissants and Danish pastry to make up for it. Rebecka had already eaten breakfast, but she took a Danish anyway.”
“What time was it then?”
“Nine thirty, ten o’clock. Something like that.” Christian threw his hands up as he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of bafflement at their interest.
“Did you both work here during the day?”
“Yes. But I told Rebecka to stop at around four. Personally, I sat here until nearly eight o’clock.”
“Did Rebecka receive any strange phone calls during those two days?”
“No.”
“And as far as you know, there hadn’t been any strange phone calls earlier?”
“No.”
“And nothing via E-mail either?”
“I said no.”
Christian couldn’t hide his irritation any longer. He rose and started clearing the table. Irene remained sitting because Glen did. Neither broke the silence.
“Will you go now? I have a lot to do.” Christian’s self-control broke. He walked to the door and held it wide. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow his anger. “Get in touch if you have any further questions but right now I don’t have any more time,” he said as calmly as he could manage.
Irene and Glen walked through the impersonal white computer room with the beautiful green plants and on toward the dark entrance. John Lennon’s voice in “Hey Jude” accompanied them out. Now Irene understood why the vestibule was so narrow. It was split by a wall and a door, which led to Rebecka’s apartment.
“Are the apartments identical?” she asked Christian.
“Yes.” His facial expression told her that he considered it to be none of her business.
“HE’S HIDING something. He seems tense. Maybe he really is only trying to protect Rebecka’s weak nerves, but I doubt it,” Glen said as they walked back to the hotel.
“Hard to say. But what would he be hiding?”
“Don’t know. Maybe there’s some threat that he doesn’t want to reveal. Or maybe he really doesn’t know anything. Then he is what he says he is: a young hard-working millionaire in the IT business who’s trying to protect his business partner.”
Glen had voiced something which Irene had been mulling over for a while.
“Don’t you also think that he’s very keen on his partner? I mean, he let Rebecka move into the house next door and he renovated it.”
“True. But it could have been for simple, practical reasons. That part about expanding the offices. Space is terribly expensive in London these days. He’s probably saving a lot by having his office at home in a building he owns,” said Glen.
They walked through different parts of Bayswater than the ones they had passed through before. Here the streets were wider and people swarmed on the sidewalks. Commerce was in full swing in shops and restaurants. Irene started wondering what to buy as a souvenir. Yet again, Glen displayed a creepy ability to read her thoughts.
“If you want to do some shopping, we can go to Whitley’s. It’s nearby, all sorts of shops in one place. I usually take the wife and kids there when it’s time for a shopping trip. They buy, and I sit in the pub on the top floor and read the paper.”
He smiled his infectious smile and Irene was strengthened in her opinion that he was very pleasant. A man who willingly went along on shopping trips! Although he cheated a bit and sneaked off to the pub, he was still there.
They walked up to a building which looked like a shining white wedding cake in the sunshine, more like a grand cathedral than a department store. Glen stopped inside the colonnade but outside the large glass doors. “We’ll meet here in an hour, then we can have lunch. While you’re shopping, I’m going to try to reach Dr. Fischer.”
Irene went in and out of the shops, realizing she wouldn’t have time to visit a fraction of them. She determined that the Swedish krona wasn’t worth much against the pound. At the same time, there were a lot of things which awoke her “must have” craving.
The most intriguing store covered two floors and carried only women’s lingerie. She had been lured in by the display of wonderful garments in every imaginable color. She selected a light-blue bra and panties, each of which cost twelve pounds. She was standing there pondering as to whether it was expensive or cheap, when a young woman appeared in front of her.
“Let me take your measurements and I’ll help you find the right size and model.”
Somewhat skeptically, Irene allowed herself to be led into a fitting room and was measured around the bust and hips. The salesperson disappeared and quickly returned with four bras with matching panties. Irene decided in favor of two of them. Holding the exclusive light yellow bag with its gold inscription, she walked back toward the entrance where she was going to meet Glen. Now she was starving.
TO IRENE’S disappointment, Glen had chosen a restaurant called Mandarin Kitchen. She didn’t want to eat Chinese food now that she was finally in London, since Göteborg has lots of Chinese cafés. But she changed her mind once the food arrived. They didn’t serve half-manufactured food here. Everything was fresh from the market. Based on Glen’s recommendation, she ordered the scallops with garlic, which smelled and tasted heavenly. The cool beer washed the exhaust fumes and dust of the big city from her throat.
Neither of them wanted dessert with coffee. Glen took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Irene, who declined. He lit a cigarette and took a sensual drag.
“I got in touch with Dr. Fischer. He spoke to Rebecka. She has agreed to meet with us at the doctor’s office tomorrow if he’s allowed to be present during the interview. Apparently it’s okay with him. Does that suit you?”
“Of course.”
“We decided on eleven o’clock at his office.”
“That will be fine.”
Glen smiled through the smoke, saying, “Now I need to get back to work. I’ll drop you off outside New Scotland Yard; unfortunately, I don’t have time to show you around. I have a meeting. I can leave you at the stop for the sightseeing bus. It’s on Victoria Street.”
“Great. I don’t know much about London.”
“Then a sightseeing tour will be perfect. Estelle will be waiting for you in the lobby at seven o’clock. You can go together to Vitória.”
“Vitória?”
“Mamma’s restaurant. My grandmother’s name was Vitória. I’ll see you there tonight.”
NEW SCOTLAND Yard was an enormous building made of glass and concrete. It looked like it had been designed by an architect who was still in his Lego phase. On the other hand, the surrounding older buildings were beautiful and impressive.
“That’s the Houses of Parliament, the seat of Parliament since the fifteen hundreds. And over there you can see Big Ben. It’s not the tower but the clock itself which is called Big Ben,” Glen told her.
He dropped Irene off at the bus stop near the Thames, not far from a bridge which, according to the signs, was Westminster Bridge. She realized that she needed a map. A friendly, white-haired lady in a kiosk next to the bus stop sold both maps and one-day sightseeing tickets.
“You can get on and off the bus wherever you want,” the little lady said, smiling a sunny toothless smile.
Irene sat on the open top deck of the bus and buttoned her jacket tightly around her neck since the wind off the water was cold.
IT WAS five thirty when she dragged herself through
the door of the hotel room. Her head was spinning and her feet ached. She was completely exhausted. She threw shopping bags on the bed and went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet in the tub, and started filling it with hot water. A bath was her primary need-right after caffeine, that is. Thankfully, she noted that the hotel provided a small water heater in each room. Next to the white ceramic cups, there was a bowl with tea bags, instant coffee in single servings, and sugar. Irene filled the flask with water, plugged it in, and poured the bowl’s three packages of coffee into a cup.
She had gotten off at Oxford Street on the way home, just outside Selfridge’s department store. A quick sweep of the floors had revealed that the prices were too high for her. To her glee she saw an H amp;M store a bit farther down the street, and there she found a nice light green sweater and a black top decorated with glitter. Attractive and cheap, since the sweater was on sale for half price. Irene was very pleased with her finds, but slightly embarrassed at the same time. To travel to London only to shop at H amp;M was really like crossing a pond to get water from the far side. If someone were to ask her where she had bought the sweater or the top, she decided to just answer, “In London.”
She took the steaming cup with her into the bathroom and set it on the edge of the tub. It was heavenly to sink into the warm water and take a few sips of the venomously strong coffee. The caffeine rushed around her body and chased away her fatigue, at the same time as the heat from the bathwater increased her circulation. Her whole body started to feel pleasantly relaxed.
DARK CLOUDS gathered on the horizon and quickly closed in on the sandy beach. What had seemed warm and pleasant a little while ago, suddenly became cold and threatening. Irene was freezing but didn’t know what she should do to get the temperature to rise. Her arms and legs were frozen stiff and refused to follow orders. Fear gripped her with its claws and she realized that she was paralyzed and freezing to death. The icy rain and cold were relentless; the tide would soon sweep her out into the sea. On top of all this suffering, thunder started roaring.
Irene sat up in the cold bath water with a jerk. The roar of thunder could still be heard. It took a moment before she realized that someone was knocking at the door. Shaking from cold, she stood and grabbed a big white bath towel. Shivering, she fumbled it around herself as she went to open the door. Estelle was standing outside.
Her hair was just as impeccably arranged as it had been that morning. She was dressed in a striking figure-fitting bone-white dress with matching shoes. Over one shoulder she had thrown a jacket. She smiled. “Hi. Are you almost ready?”
“No. . I fell asleep in the bath.”
“You poor thing. You flew in early this morning, and you’ve been busy all day. It’s not surprising that you fell asleep. It’s just a quarter past. I’ll call and say that we’ll be a little late.”
She walked quickly away over the corridor’s soft carpet without tripping or wobbling on her high heels. Some women know the art of walking in heels, others don’t, Irene observed. Irene was definitely in the latter category.
In a flash, she showered in scorching hot water to get her circulation going. She didn’t have time to wash her hair, but there was just enough to blow it dry with the hair dryer. She dived into the light-purple top and her blue linen suit. Two quick swipes with mascara over her eyelashes and a pass with the newly purchased lipstick, and she was ready to float down to Estelle, who had said she would wait in the foyer. At the last second, Irene had remembered jewelry, a present from Krister on her fortieth birthday. With quick movements of her hands, she exchanged the small silver balls in her ears for larger gold ones. Around her neck she hung the long chain with a beautiful oval golden pendant. Krister’s cousin Anna, a goldsmith in Karlstad, had made them. They were the most expensive pieces Irene had ever owned, and she loved them. One glance in the mirror confirmed that she looked good enough for a London restaurant.
“YOU MANAGED it in twelve minutes. I’m impressed,” said Estelle.
They walked barely a hundred meters down the street from the hotel. Vitória was located in a large brick house. They could hear South American rhythms out on the street, and a carnival atmosphere ruled inside. Some thirty people of all ages sat around a long table. Everyone sang along with the music and raised their glasses in toasts. Irene almost had to scream in order to be heard.
“Are you celebrating something?”
“Didn’t Glen tell you?” Estelle asked, surprised.
“No. What?”
“Mamma is turning sixty-five.”
“But then I shouldn’t be-”
In her confusion Irene couldn’t come up with the phrase for “butting in.” Estelle said, “You aren’t. It was Mamma’s idea that Glen should invite you. She didn’t want you to be all alone in the big city. Mamma loves to have people around her.”
A plump woman in a fire-red dress came toward them with a big smile and wide-open arms. “Welcome! Now the party can really start, because everyone is here! A special welcome to Irene! My name is Donna!”
In the next moment Irene found her nose in a food-and-perfume-scented wave of gray hair, her arms locked at her sides in the woman’s powerful embrace.
Donna gently pushed her back and looked up at her face. “If all police officers in Sweden are as tall as you, then I want you to send a male example, the right age for me. I love tall men!”
She smiled a glittering golden smile; for a split second, Superintendent Andersson’s pale, flabby face floated by in Irene’s mind. He could use someone soon to liven up his life as a retiree. Maybe she should send him here to Donna? He was about the right age, but a bit lacking in height. This vibrant woman would run him ragged in a few weeks; Irene was already feeling a bit exhausted herself.
Glen waved and hollered, pointing at two empty chairs on the other side of the table across from where he was sitting. Estelle made her way there with Irene in her wake.
“Hi, Irene! May I introduce my wife Kate and the twins, Brian and. . where is Kevin?”
Glen got up and shouted at a group of children. While Glen was trying to find his progeny, Irene met Kate. She was beautiful, with thick reddish-blond hair, big blue eyes, and a very pale freckled complexion. The dark, curly-haired boy at her side was joined by an identical copy whom Glen had managed to fish out of the pack of kids.
“I also have twins. But they are girls and they just turned eighteen. And they aren’t-”
Irene stopped, again at a loss for a word. What were these twins called in English?
“Identical twins,” Kate proffered.
A waiter came and served drinks from a tray. The dark sweet liquid that burned Irene’s stomach was probably rum, but she wasn’t completely sure. After a while, food was brought to the table. They ate shrimp and mussels with a spicy sauce into which you dipped wonderful newly baked bread. Then skewers of chicken and vegetables were served. The sauce that went with this course had a strong taste of chili. That’s probably why the good red wine disappeared so quickly. As the levels in the glasses sank, the mood around the table soared. To her horror, Irene realized that there was more food coming when large, aromatic steaks were brought in. She was already stuffed. The meat was served with a red wine sauce and roasted potatoes.
“This meat is from South America, not England. No mad cow disease!” Donna trumpeted from the head of the table.
It tasted wonderful, but two more glasses of wine were needed to wash down all the food. Irene started feeling the effects of the wine. She told herself to take it easy. It wouldn’t do to be hung over during tomorrow’s questioning of Rebecka Schyttelius.
The warm mood-and the actual warmth-in the small restaurant increased. The guests cheered and sang for the birthday girl; since Irene didn’t know Portuguese, she had to hum along as best she could.
A magnificent fruitcake was served for dessert, with coffee. Irene declined an after-dinner drink accompanying the coffee. The guests talked, laughed, and sang, but the hour was approachin
g twelve and Irene felt that she couldn’t stay awake much longer. It had been a long, eventful day. She went up to Donna, thanking her for the fun party and all the good food. Donna pulled her face down and gave her a smacking kiss on each cheek. “Promise now that you’ll send me a retired police officer! A tall one!” Donna chirped.
Irene promised to do her best.
THE COOL night air felt pleasant against Irene’s flushed cheeks. She took a few deep breaths in order to vent the smoke-and-alcohol-tinged air from her lungs. Glen had offered to follow her back to the hotel, but she declined when she saw that he was trying to corral the overtired twins. A taxi slowly crept toward her but continued past when she didn’t hail it. It wasn’t far to walk, and she could find her way.
The street was quiet and deserted. So when a car came up behind her, she heard it. She also heard it stop and a car door open, but she thought it was dropping off a passenger. She was completely unprepared when a pair of hands grabbed her upper arms from behind and thrust her through the open rear door of the taxi. She hit her forehead on the door frame so hard that she saw stars. She was roughly pushed into the car.
“Drive, damn it!” a hoarse voice muttered at her side in a London dialect. He had nauseating breath that stank from alcohol and rotten teeth.
For a second, Irene’s brain was paralyzed from surprise and fear. She didn’t have time to scream before he closed the car door. They had landed in a heap on the floor of the passenger compartment. She couldn’t see her attacker, who was still behind and on top of her. She twisted her head using all her strength, but all she saw of the driver through the window between the rear and the driver’s seat was a thick, shaved neck with a large black tattoo.
What did these men want? Who were they? The man who’d grabbed her started groping her breasts, and she was convinced that he was going to rape her, but when he tried to grab her golden pendant, she realized he was trying to rob her.
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