Detective Inspector Huss: A Huss Investigation set in Sweden, Vol. 1

by Helen Tursten

  Irene set to work on the bathroom, the toilets, and the laundry room. All the beds had to be changed, all the towels replaced with fresh ones. This hadn’t been done for two weeks. After Krister returned with Sammie, he left to do the grocery shopping. By then the vacuuming was done, but for safety’s sake Sammie crept under Jenny’s bed. He didn’t quite trust things as long as there was activity in the house and the strong smell of household cleansers. All of a sudden somebody might decide to take out the vacuum again.

  They went at it for almost two hours. Twice a month they went through the same process. All year round. There was never time for Christmas, fall, or spring cleaning. Irene’s mother occasionally changed the curtains. She loved to change curtains. If she hadn’t done it, the curtains would have never been changed. Well, maybe Krister would have taken care of it when he washed the windows twice a year. Irene herself wasn’t much interested in curtains. She didn’t know what the neighbor women thought about it, and it didn’t bother her either. Some of them changed the curtains several times a year.

  KRISTER FIXED a wonderful Advent dinner. The menu included an old-fashioned beef roast with steamed vegetables, black currant jelly, boiled potatoes, and a heavenly gravy. Irene’s mamma was coming at four. Katarina had found the red ceramic Advent candelabra. Who had put it on top of the fuse box? Krister had remembered to buy four Advent candles of real paraffin. But they had to do without drip rings, because nobody could find them. Jenny set the table with the good porcelain and folded the napkins in intricate pleats and waves. It was the only napkin trick she knew, but it was amazingly sophisticated, excellent for impressing people. And Grandma was astonished at her talent, as always. She complimented Jenny without so much as a glance at her stubby scalp.

  Katarina also seemed to have had a sudden change in attitude, because for dessert she had baked a magnificently gooey chocolate cake. Lightly whipped ice-cold cream was served with it, along with cups of freshly brewed coffee. They sat in the living room and ate the chocolate cake and drank coffee. The Advent candles glowed, everyone was full and content, and a warm holiday mood hovered over the room. The twins excitedly told Grandma about the thrilling events at McDonald’s the day before.

  Irene’s mother gave her a sharp look. “I read about the arrest in the paper this morning. He’s a thoroughly evil motorcycle gangster! Was it really necessary to take the girls along on this manhunt?”

  Before Irene could open her mouth in defense, the telephone rang. Instinctively she looked at the clock. Almost five-thirty. She got up and went out to answer the hall telephone.

  “Irene Huss.”

  “Hi, Irene. It’s Birgitta. I’m calling from my cell phone. I’m following Shorty’s car right now. The white Mondeo. We’re on the way out E-Six to the north, and just passed Kärra. He stopped at Charlotte and Henrik’s house in Örgryte and was inside almost fifteen minutes. Something tells me we’re on our way up to Marstrand.”

  The connection crackled and crunched, but Irene could nevertheless hear Birgitta fine. She tried to get her food-sated brain to work and asked, “Did you get in touch with the others?”

  “Yes and no. Just with Fredrik. He’s swinging by his house to get his pistol. I’ve got mine on me. I haven’t been able to reach the others.”

  Fredrik lived a few minutes from HQ. For him it was no big detour. But Irene decided not to waste any more time. The best thing for her would be to zip up the big freeways and not venture downtown. Two SIG Sauers should be enough.

  She said curtly, “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  She hung up. An idea occurred to her. She took a few steps over to the hat rack and started rooting around in the pockets of her leather jacket. In the inside pocket she found her little notebook. She turned to the last pages with the heading “R. v. K.” Richard von Knecht. The murder of that man had started this whole merry-go-round. Irene shook her head as she searched for the phone number of the caretaker, Lennart Svensson. She found it. The phone rang ten times with no answer.

  She went back to her family in the living room. Doing her best to sound casual she said, “Sorry, but I have to run off. Things are happening in the von Knecht case.”

  Krister unconsciously pursed his lips and said, “And so you have to be there, of course? Even though it’s your day off? Can’t they get along without you?”

  Her mother and the twins also looked disappointed. Irene felt a pang of guilty conscience, as usual, but steeled herself. Somewhat more authoritatively she said, “We’re beginning to get close to solving the case. At least I think so. And Birgitta Moberg is in a bind. I have to help her out. She hasn’t had any luck contacting anyone else. See you later, and thanks for a wonderful dinner.”

  She turned on her heel and made a flying start back out to the hall. Way too much time had already been lost. She grabbed her jacket and heavy jogging shoes on the way out to the garage.

  THE SIGN HOLTA CHURCH flashed by and she slowed down. Now she had to make sure not to miss the exit. There it was! Tjuvkil. She turned onto the gravel road. There were no streetlights out here. The darkness was intense outside the field of her headlights. A little yellow arrow with black text said KÄRRINGNÄSET. She had to turn there. The road was narrow. The branches of the bushes and trees along the ditch scraped along the side of the car.

  It was a good thing that Birgitta had the presence of mind to turn on her taillights, or Irene would have crashed into the rear of her car. True to form, she had been driving too fast. Birgitta had left the dark blue Volvo stakeout car in the middle of the road. There was no other place to park it. She turned off the taillights, hopped out of the car, and approached Irene.

  “Good of you to come. And here comes Fredrik,” she added.

  Irene also put her blinkers on. The arriving car braked, and Fredrik jumped out even before the engine turned off. Eagerly he said, “It took a little extra time, but I slipped into Narcotics and borrowed a weapon. I was thinking of you and Jimmy. Too bad they couldn’t spare another officer. So it’s just the three of us. You didn’t have any luck getting hold of Jonny or Hans?”

  Birgitta shook her head and stretched out her hand so she could take a look at the famous night-vision telescope in the flashlight beam. Irene answered for her, “Borg is probably taking an after-dinner nap. And there’s no hope of trying to get Tommy to come out here. He’s in Borås at Agneta’s parents’ house.”

  They walked toward the two-meter-high gates of solid iron with inhospitable spikes on top. Fredrik shook the heavy iron bars to test them, but the gate was locked. The fence was just as high, and barbed wire ran along the top between tall iron posts.

  After thinking for a moment, Birgitta said, “Irene, you’ve studied the map of this area better than we have. How far is it to the house from here?”

  “Almost a kilometer. Close to the fence here are pastures for Sylvia’s horses. A few hundred meters farther along the road—I’d say about five hundred—is the caretaker’s house.”

  Birgitta looked around, pondering, and said, “Shorty’s car isn’t parked here, as far as I can see.”

  “Are you sure he was coming here?”

  “Yes. I followed him up to Holta Church. He turned down toward Tjuvkil and then continued straight ahead. So I turned around and headed down the same road. I saw his lights in front of me. Then I switched mine off. He turned off here toward Kärringnäset. I didn’t dare get too close. If he had stopped he might have heard my engine. So I parked for five minutes, right by the turnoff. When I got here there wasn’t a trace of the Mondeo. He must have had a key to the gate.”

  “You said he made a detour over to Örgryte?”

  “Yes. I was staked out at his place on Berzeliigatan. Right after five his car came zooming past. I got in my car, or rather the department’s car. Mine is too clunky for tailing anyone. It couldn’t keep up with a souped-up moped! He drove straight out to Långåsliden, jumped out of the car, and knocked on the door. Charlotte opened it. I saw her in the doorway.
She let him in. He came out thirteen minutes later. I checked the time.”

  Irene said dryly, “Then they hardly had time for a quickie. That’s where he must have gotten the key!”

  Fredrik stood stamping impatiently and interrupted them, “We don’t have time to talk right now. Let’s get moving! How are we going to get over the fence?”

  Irene thought of a possible solution. She went back to her Saab and opened the trunk. After some clanking and thumping amid all the junk, she found what she was looking for. Triumphantly she turned back to her colleagues.

  “How about this—my towrope! Fredrik, you and I will give Birgitta a boost to the top of the fence. We’ll toss up the rope so she can tie it to one of the iron bars, and we can hoist ourselves up. Then we just throw the rope over to the other side.”

  Fredrik and Irene placed themselves next to each other so Birgitta could climb up via their knees and shoulders. They tossed up the tow-line and Birgitta tied a good knot, as if she were making fast a sailboat worth millions. The other two rapidly clambered up, climbed carefully over the barbed wire, threw the line over to the other side of the fence, and slid down.

  Birgitta asked, “Do we dare turn on our flashlights?”

  “It’s probably not dangerous out here. But point them at the ground. By the way, please hand me the telescope, Fredrik.”

  Irene strapped on the night-vision telescope. She could see the caretaker’s house; a bit farther away a long, low stable was visible. She saw no activity in the house. There was a light in the stable windows.

  “All quiet. We’ll head up the road. It’s easier to walk on,” Irene decided.

  They went as fast as they could. With some satisfaction Irene noticed that her two younger colleagues were panting a little when they passed the caretaker’s house. For safety’s sake they had turned off their flash-lights. They didn’t see a soul; only the outside light was on.

  An icy cold north wind swept over the pastures, but their brisk pace kept them warm. The smell of salt and rotten seaweed was palpable, but there was also a distinct odor of horse manure. The distant roar of the sea and the whine of the wind were all they could hear. They stopped to catch their breath and plan a strategy. Before them loomed something that could have been a towering cliff. But Irene knew that it was the von Knechts’ summer residence, designed by a famous Finnish architect. It was Jonny who had provided that information. He had also told her the architect’s name, but she had forgotten it. Not important.

  In a low voice she said, “About a hundred meters straight ahead is the von Knechts’ little summer compound. To get to Henrik’s cabin you have to follow the road to the left, around the big house. To the right the road ends at a small cliff. The sea goes into a little cove down below. So we’ll go to the left. Use your flashlights, since it’s pitch black here, but remember to point the beam down. Stay off the road; walk on the grass and use the bushes for cover. We don’t know if Shorty has gone inside the big house or where he might be. By the way, was he alone in the car?”

  Birgitta hesitated with her answer. “I honestly don’t know. His car windows are completely dark. It’s almost impossible to see in.”

  “Then we have to keep in mind that he may have had somebody with him in the car. It’s about a hundred meters to Henrik’s place. There are two identical houses right near each other, about thirty meters apart. I’m not sure which one is Henrik’s, but I think Jonny pointed to the one on the right. The one closer to the boat docks. I suggest we spread out and approach the house from three directions. I’m unarmed. Someone with a weapon should take the windows and doors in front. It’s important that we get inside fast.”

  As she had expected, Fredrik said briskly, “I’ll take them.”

  “Good. Birgitta, you take the side of the house facing the big house and the back. I’ll take the side toward the sea. But we’ll start by checking out the lay of the land. We’ll stop when we get past the big house. Then I’ll look through the telescope and see if there’s anything suspicious around Henrik’s house. Starting now we have to talk as quietly as we can. When we get close to Henrik’s house, we need absolute silence.”

  She sensed rather than saw that her two colleagues nodded in the dark. The light from their flashlights was pointed at the ground. They started walking toward the dark house; one by one they moved off the road. Irene felt her shoes sinking into the wet lawn; it was slippery and hard to walk. The splashing and sloshing of their hasty steps was drowned out by the angry slap of the sea against the rocks. The wind was a lot stronger out here on the spit and the roar was deafening. It bit fiercely at their earlobes and made their eyes water.

  Irene turned the corner around the end of the big house at a good clip, but stopped short. Birgitta almost ran into her back. Taken by surprise, she snapped, “Yikes! What is it?”

  Irene didn’t answer but just pointed. A few meters in front of them a large white car was parked. There was no doubt that it was Shorty’s Ford Mondeo. Irene darted behind the corner of the house and pulled Birgitta with her. She whispered in her ear, “There might be someone sitting in the car. Wait, I’ll see if I can make out anything with the telescope.”

  But everything looked calm, with not a movement to be seen. Crouching down, they stole toward the rear of the car. Birgitta pulled open a back door and aimed her pistol inside the vehicle as Irene switched on her flashlight and shone it through the window on the opposite side. Empty. They each gave a sigh of relief.

  Irene could just see Fredrik a short distance ahead. She put the telescope to her eye and saw him sneaking rapidly between the low bushes. He hadn’t gone up toward the big house, but instead circled around to approach Henrik’s cabin from the front. A good plan; this way he would have cover from trees and bushes all the way up to the house. It made it easier to use the flashlight. But he had missed the Mondeo. It wasn’t possible for one person to see everything.

  She directed her telescope at Henrik’s cabin. There was a faint light in the windows. From that angle she could only see in through the window on the gable side. That was clearly the kitchen. No one was visible. She decided to try to reach her position by making a wider circle. It was extremely difficult to walk in the dark. There was a constant risk of tripping or falling. She swiftly followed in Fredrik’s tracks. He gave her a hasty wave when she passed his position. It was strategically correct, behind a big boulder about ten meters from the illuminated window to the left of the front door. She stopped and cast an eye at the window. It was too high; she still couldn’t see inside.

  Her heart was pumping faster now. There was no sign of life inside the house, but she knew that Shorty was there. Her nostrils widened, and all her senses were on alert. She could smell the scent. A slight metallic taste in her mouth confirmed what she already knew. The hunt was on.

  Cautiously she crept out on the slick rocks and looked up at the deck. The columns supporting the deck facing the sea were almost three meters tall. But that was the way she had to go. There was no stairway down to the rocks; you had to go through the house to get out onto the large deck. It certainly must give one “a genuine feeling of a ship’s deck.” Irene grimaced in the darkness.

  The columns were made of granite blocks, cemented together. The mortar joints weren’t wide enough to afford purchase for fingers or toes. Under the deck lay a little upside-down dinghy. Even though it was small, it weighed a lot. Irene groaned as she slowly shoved and dragged it into position. She paused. Had anyone in the house heard her? But there was only the sea and the roar of the wind, and she was grateful for the cover it gave her. It was time to test whether her idea would work. The boat was now standing vertically, its bottom against the column. The bow pointed up, and the stern was securely propped against heavy stones. It probably wouldn’t slip. She climbed up the stern and then farther up onto the little thwart. The last part was trickier. She put her right foot on the tip of the bow, grabbed hold of the bars of the deck railing, and was just about to kick off and lif
t herself up when a voice made her stop.

  “Look up!”

  She froze. Was it just the wind whining in her ears? As always she obeyed the voice. Balancing on one foot she peered through the bars toward the big glass doors leading to the house from the deck. The whole wall consisted of sliding glass doors. She could see a faint light farther inside the house, but the room adjacent to the deck was dark. A faint movement could be seen in one of the side curtains. Were her hyperalert senses playing a trick on her? The cold wind whipped around her jeans-clad legs, and the foot she was resting her weight on started to go to sleep. A cold sweat broke out all over her body. With infinite care she began to maneuver the telescope up to her eye.

  Her breathing stopped and the roar of the sea and the wind disappeared. He can’t see you! He can’t see you! You see him in the telescope, but he can’t see you! Good thing the telescope hung on its cord around her neck; otherwise she would have dropped it onto the rocks below. The curly hair over his shoulders. The shiny leather jacket with all the rivets; the enormous, compact body. And the satanic grin on his lips. Hoffa Strömberg stood gazing out into the darkness across the deck and the sea.

  Only her face had been above the floor of the deck. She was peeking between the bars. He couldn’t have seen her. Yet she felt residual fear from Billdal well up from the black hole inside her. The hole she thought she had sealed up forever.

  Shaking, she climbed back down and collapsed on the frigid rock. She couldn’t give in to the fear. She took a few deep breaths, closed her eyes, and tried to look inward and find the Point, when something began to claw urgently at her consciousness. At first she tried to shut it out, but suddenly she was totally present in the wintry wind. Her eyes opened and looked out into the darkness. The ice-cold wind whipped tears into her eyes. A desperate scream was faintly audible from inside the house.

  It didn’t take her long to climb up the dinghy this time. She positioned herself on the bow with one foot and looked between the bars through the telescope. Hoffa had turned his back to the deck. He, too, was listening, facing into the house. His next maneuver was very odd. To Irene’s astonishment he slipped behind the curtain, still with his back to the deck. He stood quite motionless. Irene could see movement inside the house. Without thinking, she hoisted herself up and threw herself swiftly over the railing. She crouched, stock-still. After a few seconds she carefully pulled out the telescope and looked at the place where Hoffa had been standing. He hadn’t moved. She cautiously stood and looked straight into the house. The illumination came from the ceiling light in the hall. She could see Fredrik in profile standing in the middle of the hall, with his pistol held in a two-handed grip and his arms out straight. He was aiming at someone who stood in front of him, out of her line of sight.