Cinderella Girl

by Carin Gerhardsen

  ‘The dad will probably get in touch with us before I’ve got anywhere,’ muttered Einar Eriksson.

  Sjöberg ignored the grumbling. Eriksson just was that way; it was not worth bothering about, and he did good work.

  ‘And then find out from all the garages whether any cars come in that match the damage to the pram,’ Sjöberg continued. ‘Petra, you keep us informed about the boy’s condition. We need a photo of him too. Jens, Jamal and Petra will get the door-to-door operation going in the area. Big effort. We need witnesses, but above all we need to find out who the dead woman is. Hansson, you keep in contact with the medical examiner. As soon as you know anything about when she died, I want to know so we can pursue witnesses. We need a few other things too for identification: fingerprints, teeth, clothing, model of pram, all that kind of thing.’

  Sjöberg was interrupted by a cautious knock at the door.

  ‘Yes?’ he called to Lundin, the young constable who was serving as receptionist for the day and was now hazily visible through the frosted glass in the door.

  Everyone’s eyes turned towards the self-conscious Lundin as he cracked open the door.

  ‘Phone for Conny Sjöberg. It can’t wait,’ he added apologetically.

  ‘Connect it in here,’ said Sjöberg, opening his notepad.

  Sandén pushed the phone across the table to Sjöberg, who purposefully clicked out the nib of his pen while he took two quick gulps from his coffee cup.

  The call took longer than expected and when he was finished he put down the receiver with a sigh.

  ‘Things seem to be piling up a bit,’ he said wearily. ‘A sixteen-year-old girl has been found strangled in a toilet on a Viking Line ferry. She was murdered during the night in Swedish waters and is registered on Götgatan, up by Ringen. So the case falls on our desk. The Finnish police have taken care of the job so far and we’ll get help from them going forward too. But we’ll be leading the investigation.’

  ‘Holy shit. Two children on the same day.’ Sandén said what everyone was thinking.

  ‘I’ll lead this investigation,’ Sjöberg continued. ‘Jamal will work with me. Petra will have to take over Vita Bergen. You’ll manage it. Jens will work with you. And Einar will have to work with both cases. If that doesn’t hold up, we’ll have to request reinforcements, but let’s try it this way to start with.’

  Petra Westman had never before been responsible for an investigation. Now she felt proud and a little nervous at the same time. Nervous with respect to the older, considerably more experienced Sandén, but he patted her encouragingly on the shoulder and gave her a quick wink. Humility was one of Sandén’s attributes; during all the years at the heels of Sjöberg he had never shown any signs of jealousy or envy, and that in turn was a sign of another of Sandén’s traits: contentment. He took things as they were, seldom worried and never let himself get discouraged.

  ‘You can get going now.’ Sjöberg was addressing Westman and Sandén.

  ‘I’m here if you need me,’ he added, with a reassuring smile at Westman. ‘The rest of us will start this new case.’

  ‘And me?’ asked Einar Eriksson, his face clearly displaying a feeling of having been slighted in some way.

  ‘It’s important that you get started with Vita Bergen as soon as possible,’ Sjöberg said nonchalantly. ‘But it would be good if you took five minutes to get familiar with this boat case first. Even if the ferry doesn’t come back to Stockholm until early tomorrow.’

  Eriksson let out an audible sigh. Westman and Sandén left the conference room and Sjöberg reported what he had learned on the phone.

  ‘And the body?’ asked Hansson when Sjöberg was done. ‘What happens with it?’

  ‘It will remain in Åbo. I don’t know how long for. I’m not familiar with the practice in these cases. Perhaps you can find that out, Bella? There are no visible signs of rape – her clothes were in order – but according to the Finnish medical examiner she appeared to have been sexually active during her last hours. That’s the only thing that’s come out so far. Talk to Kaj Zetterström at pathology; then you can take whatever action the situation requires. Maybe go over there.’

  Sjöberg emptied his coffee cup and pushed it aside. Einar Eriksson looked at his watch, stood up and left the room.

  ‘And with that the five minutes are up,’ said Sjöberg with a resigned expression when the door to the conference room had shut.

  ‘Well, this is going to be a heavy-duty assignment,’ Hadar Rosén observed. ‘A hell of a lot of people to be questioned and half of them in Finland. Has the girl’s family been informed?’

  ‘No, I guess that’s the first thing we’ll have to see to,’ Sjöberg sighed. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘We’ll have to ask them to send a passenger list,’ said Hamad. ‘So we have something to work from.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sjöberg agreed, ‘and a list of staff. Einar will run the names against the crime register to start with and get the Finns to do the same thing. Otherwise there’s probably not much we can do before the ferry arrives tomorrow. Then there’ll be a mass meeting on board the boat. You’ll have a lot to do, Bella.’

  ‘No problem,’ Hansson answered with a cool smile. ‘We’ll take Vita Bergen this evening, sleep for a few hours and be at the end of the pier with our bags early tomorrow.’

  ‘How many people can there be on one of those Finland ferries?’ the prosecutor asked.

  ‘Evidently this one can hold up to 2,480 passengers,’ Sjöberg replied. ‘These ferries are a real marvel. But I don’t know how many there were on this trip.’

  ‘Just be sure to have enough people with you,’ said Rosén. ‘That’s a lot of passengers to question.’

  ‘We’ll have to make some kind of probability calculation. We’ll start with the boyfriend and his circle of friends, look for the men in the bar – the Swede and the two Finns.’

  ‘And if we don’t find our murderer there, this investigation is going to be a drawn-out affair,’ Rosén sighed, shaking his head.

  ‘I know,’ said Sjöberg. ‘But if this is an unpremeditated crime, there will be someone who saw something. If it’s not, we’ll solve it through detective work.’

  ‘Just make sure it gets done,’ the prosecutor said urgently. ‘When there are children involved, or young people –’

  ‘Will you be there tomorrow?’ Sjöberg interrupted. ‘On the boat?’

  ‘I’m coming,’ Rosén answered. ‘What time are we talking about?’

  ‘Maybe as early as six. I’ll be in touch when I know for sure.’

  ‘Then perhaps we can consider ourselves finished here?’ asked Hansson, striking both palms on the table. Her intense but absent gaze showed that mentally she was already in the lab, busy charting the technical circumstances around a woman’s cold autumn death in a park in central Stockholm.

  Sunday Evening

  When Hanna finally woke up again it was already starting to get dark outside the bedroom window. She stayed in her parents’ double bed for a while to determine whether she could see and whether the whole situation was for real or just a scary nightmare.

  ‘Mummy!’ she called out hopefully into the apartment.

  No answer. She called again, louder this time. Still no answer. She pulled the cover over her head.

  ‘Mummy, you have to come home now,’ she murmured quietly to herself. ‘This isn’t fun any more. Let’s play something else now.’

  Then she felt how hungry she was; her stomach was screaming for food. She slid carefully down from the bed – she had to do everything carefully now. With both hands she took hold of the cover and put it around herself like a cape. It dragged behind her as she tiptoed out to the kitchen. But the cover was heavy, so she dropped it at the threshold to the kitchen and went into her bedroom. The white T-shirt with the strawberry on the chest was still lying on the rug and she pulled it over her head. In the bureau drawer that was still open she found a pair of knickers and a red corduroy skirt, which sh
e also managed to get on with some effort. Then she went back into the kitchen.

  The packet with the frozen hash was still on the table. She turned the packet upside down over the tabletop and shook out what was left. It wasn’t frozen any more! It was ready to eat, and it was good. The hash tasted almost as good as if it were hot. She took whole fistfuls of lukewarm meat and potato cubes and stuffed them in her mouth. It was so wonderful to eat real food that she forgot she was sad. Almost everything felt better now; the only thing that was not better was the wound on her cheek, which really hurt. But Hanna gritted her teeth.

  When she had finished the whole packet of hash she pushed one of the chairs at the kitchen table to the counter, climbed up on it, and turned on the water slowly so she would not burn herself if it was too hot. She tried the tap in different positions and finally got it to give out cold water. Then she took a glass from the dish rack, filled it halfway and drank.

  That was when she happened to think about the telephone. If no one was going to call her, she would have to make a call herself. All you had to do was push the little buttons, and then someone would answer. She slid down to the floor and went out into the hall. The child’s chair was still there below the wall phone. She climbed up on it and was careful not to get too close to the knobs on the drawers of the tall hall bureau or the framed photo. She picked up the receiver, as she had seen others do, and aimlessly pressed buttons. She could hear a ringing sound and she waited for a while but no one answered. Hanna hung up and tried again. Suddenly she heard a voice in her ear.

  ‘Hello.’

  It sounded like a man.

  ‘Hello,’ said Hanna.

  ‘Who’s calling?’ the man said crossly.

  ‘It’s Hanna, of course,’ Hanna answered. ‘Is this Daddy?’

  ‘No, it’s not. You’ve got the wrong number.’

  Then he hung up. But Hanna was determined. She tried again, many times, until she heard another voice at the other end.

  ‘You have reached the Larsson family. No one can take your call right now, so please leave a message after the beep.’

  ‘Is Daddy there?’ asked Hanna.

  Beep, it said in her ear; then there was silence.

  ‘Hello, I want to talk!’ Hanna called to the answering machine, but it remained silent.

  Then she hung up, but she was not going to give up so easily.

  ‘Hagström,’ said a voice in the receiver.

  ‘Hi,’ said Hanna.

  ‘Hi there! Is this Emma?’

  The voice sounded friendly. It reminded her of Mummy’s.

  ‘No, it’s Hanna. Is this Mummy?’

  ‘No, sweetheart, you’ve probably dialled the wrong number.’

  ‘What number should I call?’ asked Hanna.

  ‘Why don’t you try your mummy’s number?’ the voice said cheerfully.

  ‘My mummy is gone,’ said Hanna.

  ‘That’s not good,’ said the voice. ‘So where is your daddy?’

  ‘He’s in Japan. He’s coming home in a whole lot of days.’

  ‘That’s terrible. You know, you really shouldn’t play with the phone. I think it’s best if you stop doing that now. But it was nice talking to you anyway. Bye now.’

  And then there was a beeping in the receiver again. Hanna sighed and hung it back on the cradle. You could find nice people when you called like this anyway. She would not give up. No, she would call and call until someone came and rescued her. That’s exactly what she would do.

  After a few more failed attempts she finally got a bite again.

  ‘Dahlström.’

  It was an old lady who answered. Her voice sounded really old.

  ‘Hi, this is Hanna.’

  ‘Hi, Hanna!’ the old lady said cheerfully.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked Hanna.

  ‘My name is Barbro.’

  ‘Do you know my mummy?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Barbro replied.

  ‘So why do you want to talk to me?’

  ‘Well,’ the old lady answered hesitantly, ‘weren’t you the one who wanted to talk to me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hanna agreed, ‘because my mummy and daddy are gone.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ said Barbro. ‘Who’s taking care of you then?’

  ‘I’m doing it myself,’ Hanna answered with some pride.

  ‘But honey, how old are you?’

  ‘This many,’ said Hanna, holding three fingers up in the air. ‘But soon I’ll be this many.’

  Four fingers in the air now. The old lady was silent for a moment.

  ‘You’re not at home all alone, are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘So where is your mummy?’

  ‘She moved. She only likes Lukas, and I’m a big bother.’

  ‘I don’t believe that,’ said Barbro firmly. ‘I think you sound like a very nice, good little girl. And your daddy?’

  ‘Daddy is in Japan.’

  ‘But someone must be taking care of you.’

  ‘I manage almost everything myself. I had hash. Although I hit myself so there was blood and I want Daddy to come home now and kiss it and make it better.’

  ‘Are you joking with me now, Hanna, or are you really all by yourself?’ Barbro asked in a worried voice.

  ‘I’m not joking. Can you come and rescue me? I don’t want to be alone any more.’

  ‘Hanna, first you have to tell me where you live. Do you know the name of your street?’

  ‘Sweden?’ said Hanna hesitantly.

  ‘Do you live in Stockholm, do you know that?’

  ‘Yes. And in Sweden.’

  ‘What’s your last name?’

  Hanna did not know the answer, so she didn’t say anything.

  ‘Is your name maybe Andersson or Pettersson? Hanna Karlsson maybe? Do you know that?’

  ‘My name is Hanna Birgitta,’ Hanna said contentedly, but Barbro did not seem to think that was anything special, because she just continued asking her questions.

  ‘What does it look like where you live? Are there a lot of cars and shops and things?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hanna answered. ‘And summer cabins.’

  ‘Listen, Hanna,’ said Barbro eagerly. ‘Can you go to the window and look out on the street? Just set down the phone – don’t hang up – and then come back and tell me what you see when you look out. Can you do that?’

  ‘But it’s dark outside.’

  ‘There must be streetlights so you can see a little anyway?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Hanna again, setting the receiver down on the bureau, like the nice lady said, and went over to the living room window.

  When she came back to the phone she dutifully described what she had seen.

  ‘There’s a castle here. It’s really big and yellow, with blue and red squares on it. And letters. And then there’s a tower at the very top, where the princess lives.’

  ‘So no summer cabins?’ asked Barbro.

  ‘Yes, summer cabins too. And a castle.’

  ‘Do you know anyone who lives in your building?’

  ‘Just Mr Bergman, but he’s always angry.’

  ‘Hanna,’ said Barbro seriously. ‘Listen to me now. I’ll come and rescue you, but it may take a little time. I want you to eat properly. You have to be a clever little girl now. You must not open any windows, and don’t touch the cooker or any electrical wires. Do you understand that, Hanna? It’s very important that you do as I say.’

  ‘I’ll be good,’ said Hanna convincingly.

  ‘If the phone rings, you should answer it and tell the caller the same thing you told me. And then try to be a happy girl, and I’ll hurry to come and rescue you. It may take a while, but you mustn’t give up. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hanna.

  ‘Bye now,’ said the old lady. ‘Take care of yourself now. Be careful.’

  Barbro almost sounded like she was about to start crying, but could that really be? She was big a
fter all.

  ‘Bye-bye, Barbro,’ said Hanna happily, to cheer up the kind lady.

  Then she hung up the phone and sat on the hall mat to wait.

  * * *

  Deep down he was grateful that Hamad was with him. Sjöberg had done this many times before, alone, but it never got any easier. And now – the girl was sixteen, just a child. After they got the Finns to fax over the names and addresses of passengers, and the time approached for Sjöberg to leave for the address at Skanstull, Hamad noticed that his head was sinking lower and lower.

  ‘I’ll come along,’ he said. ‘For moral support.’

  Sjöberg meant to tell him not to, but at the same time he felt so relieved that he hesitated and Hamad continued.

  ‘Sooner or later I’ll be the one standing there, so I might as well get used to it.’

  But it did not turn out the way either of them imagined.

  ‘It’s open!’ someone bellowed from inside the apartment when they knocked for the third time.

  There was a strong smell of soap in the stairwell, but even more of fried onion. They carefully opened the door to the apartment on the second floor, looked at each other before stepping over the pile of flyers on the floor in the hall and took the few steps to the nearest room, which proved to be the kitchen.

  Three women and a man were seated at the table, talking away in loud voices. Yet another man, dressed in shoes and a jacket that were both too warm for the season, was sitting on the kitchen floor, comfortably leaning against one of the lower cupboards with a half-empty wine bottle in his hand. On the table there were beer cans, bottles and several cups of something that clearly was not coffee.

  No one in the gathering took any notice of them, so Sjöberg cleared his throat loudly. No reaction.

  ‘We’re from the police,’ he said in a resounding voice, and a woman with her hair in a long braid actually looked up at him for a moment before she painstakingly put out her cigarette in a beer can.

  Just as Sjöberg was about to speak again the cigarette was extinguished and the woman shouted in a hoarse voice, ‘Hello! Can you all shut up now! The cops are here.’