“In your handbag?”
“Yes, he had put them back.”
“When did you find out he really had taken them? Or did you just have a hunch?”
“No, I knew. He wanted to have them back on Wednesday morning, the day after Richard died. He just took them out of my handbag, dangled them in the air, and said something like, ‘You’ve never seen these keys! Get it?’ And then he left.”
“Do you know what he did with them then?”
She nodded. “Yes. He gave them to that cleaning woman. The Finn. I didn’t figure it out until Bobo was blown up too. But I had nothing to do with those bombs. It was Henrik. He was jealous of Richard. He wanted revenge. And he refused to pay for the pictures.”
“What about your baby, Charlotte? Who’s the father?”
“Henrik.”
“No. We’ve learned that he became sterile after having the mumps. And don’t forget that we have him up in Pathology. We’ve already asked the postmortem examiner to check to make sure.”
She had fought as hard as she could but finally collapsed over the table and buried her head in her arms. For a long time she stayed like that, without moving. Once again Irene noticed that there was no trace of tears when she showed her face again.
Charlotte said harshly, “It was Richard’s. The child is a genuine von Knecht.”
“So that’s why Henrik chose to kill his father and not you. Isn’t that right? This was his chance to become a father, as biologically close to the real thing as he could get. Father to his own half sibling. The continuation of the line would be secured. But he wanted revenge.”
“Yes.” She answered in a whisper.
In a low, neutral voice Irene asked, “You knew nothing about the bomb on Berzeliigatan?”
“No.”
“That’s why you decided to murder Richard yourself. Isn’t that true?”
“No! That’s not true! I have an alibi! I was out picking up my car from the dealer.”
“That alibi has been cracked wide open. Your little cowboy from Mölndal, Robert Skytter, told us exactly what happened. How you missed the appointment on Monday. Suddenly you called on Tuesday and demanded that he had to be the one to handle the delivery of your new car. Then the cunning seduction; naked under your coat, wearing only stockings and high-heeled shoes. Not a very original move, but it worked on a young man like Robert.”
“But the time. I could never have made it back in twenty or twentyfive minutes max.”
“No. But in forty or forty-five, yes. You gained fifteen minutes with that remark, ‘Oh, it’s the five o’clock news already! I have to run!’ And little Robbie was probably still giddy from fucking in the Ford, so he didn’t react. Clever. But you made a mistake.” Irene paused.
Again Charlotte’s eyes were fixed on her lips; she was incapable of tearing her gaze away. A barely audible whisper, “What kind of mistake?”
“There isn’t any five o’clock news on the radio. Today’s Echo at a Quarter to Five is what it’s called. Why do you think that is?”
Charlotte’s voice failed her when she replied, “It’s on at quarter to five?”
She was sitting erect, with her arms hanging down at her sides and her eyes fixed on Irene’s face. She knew it was over.
Irene tried to appear unmoved, even though inside she felt as if a volcano was about to erupt.
“Why, Charlotte? Why? Tell me.”
“Richard . . . two weeks before he . . . died . . . I told him I was pregnant and that he was the father. At first he tried to wriggle out of it. He didn’t know who I’d been sleeping with, and stuff like that. But I actually hadn’t been with anyone else since July. So I insisted, and I read about this technique of determining paternity with . . . DNA. When I told him I wanted one of those tests, he backed down. He promised to give me money every month. I thought that sounded fair. But then this thing with the photos came up . . . those lying on the table. He asked if I knew anything about them, but I denied it. You see, he didn’t know that Bobo was the one who took them. Bobo contacted him anonymously, by telephone. But I think Richard suspected something. He didn’t want to see me.”
Charlotte’s hands were twisting and turning now, though she was unaware of it. Irene sat in silence, waiting for what she knew was coming.
“But then Henrik ended up getting the pictures instead. He showed them to me and . . . he was out of his mind! He recognized Richard and me. I told him everything. He didn’t say a word. Wouldn’t speak to me, and then he left for Marstrand on Friday afternoon. I thought it was great that he left. Right after that I noticed that Richard’s keys were gone from my handbag. On Saturday around three he came home. He didn’t say a word, just got ready for the party. We went to it. It was abominable. But Henrik put on a good act. All those old fossils.”
She stopped talking, looking angry. A thin film of sweat appeared on her skin. Her gaze was still fixed on Irene, but it was doubtful whether Charlotte saw her. Her voice was strained when she went on. “On Sunday Henrik was supposed to fly to London. Right before he left, Richard called about some auction catalog that Henrik had forgotten to give him. Then Henrik said to me, ‘You can take it over to him tomorrow, since you have a key!’ And then he left. So I did. I had to talk to Richard. But when I arrived on Monday, the cleaning woman and her daughter were there working. Richard had a slight cold and was home, taking it easy. But when I handed him the catalog he whispered to me to come back later, around seven. And I did. And stayed overnight.”
“Had you ever been together in the apartment on Molinsgatan on previous occasions?”
“No, never. And on Tuesday morning, as we were sitting, eating breakfast, that shithead says, ‘I think we’ve had enough fun with each other so it’s time we call it quits. We won’t meet anymore, but will go back to being daughter-in-law and father-in-law. And you can raise the child as my grandchild. Ha ha!’ He laughed at me! That fuck laughed at me! Right in my face! He was dumping me like an old slut! But I didn’t let on, just asked him what financial arrangements he contemplated. He said I’d get five thousand a month. Five thousand! That’s not enough for anything. I gave him a piece of my mind. He kept on laughing at me, but finally he said . . .”
She paused, stretched, and assumed an arrogant tone of voice to imitate Richard von Knecht. “I understand that you’re a little oversensitive right now. Let’s do it this way. Valle and I are going out for our Tuesday lunch today. If you clean the whole apartment so that Sylvia can’t see the slightest sign that you’ve been here, I’ll give you ten thousand kronor this afternoon. But that’s all you’ll get during the pregnancy. You won’t get the five thousand a month until after the delivery. We’re coming home around four o’clock. See that the apartment is ready in time, because Sylvia will be here between five-thirty and six.”
She slumped down again and spat out, “‘The delivery.’ As if I was some breeding sow. And I knew that he wouldn’t give me any more money. He was kicking me out like a piece of worthless shit. That’s when I decided that he had to die! It would be much easier to get money out of Henrik. Now that the child is on the way . . . You wouldn’t believe how thoroughly I cleaned the rooms we’d been in. For safety’s sake I even wiped off the light switches and changed the sheets and towels. Gave the place a real once-over. Then I did exactly as you said. Called Robbie and . . . picked up the car.”
She fell silent and started breathing harder. Unseeing, her eyes gazed straight ahead; her voice seemed to come from a long way off when she continued, “I deliberately went to see Richard very late. He would be more rushed then, I thought. Clever. I was very clever. I parked by Ascheberg High School. Since all the front door keys fit all four doors in the building, I went in on the Kapellgatan side, walked across the courtyard, and went in through the courtyard door. Then I took the elevator up and opened the door to the apartment. I didn’t have gloves on. That’s why I wiped off everything with a rag when I left . . . later . . . after . . . Then I threw the rag
and the vacuum cleaner bag in a trash can in the garbage room. I watch TV, after all. It’s important not to leave any traces. I went back the same way across the courtyard. You didn’t find a thing!”
Triumph shone in her turquoise eyes. Eagerly, as if to reveal how clever she had been, with her words practically falling over each other, she turned to Irene and continued her story. “He didn’t hear a sound when I opened the front door. I went through the kitchen and took a little meat cleaver that was hanging over the stove. I stuffed it under my trench coat. I went upstairs and there lay Richard on the sofa, resting after a sauna. He was pretty drunk. He jumped up, nervous as hell because of the time. Sylvia would arrive any minute. He ran off to get the envelope with the money. When he came back and gave it to me, I said, ‘Come on, you have to see my new car! It’s parked right under the balcony. It looks really great in the light from the display window.’ At first he didn’t want to. But at the same time he wanted to get rid of me before Sylvia came home. So he went out onto the balcony with me. He leaned over the railing so he could see the car. I whacked him on the back of the neck as hard as I could and shoved him over!”
She showed not a trace of regret or remorse. Nothing but pure triumph.
Cautiously, Irene asked, “He had a cut on the back of his hand. How did he get that?”
“That wimp was afraid of heights. He was holding on with one hand. I had to give it a whack so he’d let go.”
She began to laugh. A hysterical giggle that grew into a howl.
“Charlotte, one more thing. The sandwiches in the refrigerator. Were you the one who took them?”
“Yes. I was hungry afterward. So I took them with me and ate them at home. You get hungry all the time when you’re pregnant.”
Epilogue
“MAMMA! WHERE’S THE LUCIA crown? Guess who was chosen Lucia by our class? They picked me. Super to have a bald Lucia, they thought. Do you know where we put the crown last year?”
“Wasn’t that the one that short-circuited?”
“No, that was Katarina’s electric light candleholder. Do you think I need to shave my head again? I mean, the point is that I’m bald, after all.”
“No. Dear Jenny. No!”
“Damn, you’re grumpy when you get home from work. You’re always so tired and useless.”
Annoyed, Jenny slammed the door to her room. Irene sighed and looked up at the closed door on the second floor. Jenny was right. She was always tired and useless when she came home. She had to be sharp and energetic when she was at work. There were no reserves to call on when she was home with her family.
Jenny opened her door a crack. “Maybe you’ll be in a better mood after you open the package in the living room. It came by delivery van a while ago. And you could say congratulations to me. Not even Katarina has ever been Lucia for the whole class!”
“Congratulations, sweetie.”
She spoke to a door that was already closed. With a sigh she went into the living room. The thought occurred to her: Could be a bomb. After all, she had screwed things up for the Hell’s Angels, and she knew what they were capable of. The package was big and flat. Sent by Mona Söder, Stockholm. She took down the framed Miró print from the wall.
TWO BIG yellow butterflies with black markings on their wings hovered over a vast landscape, a shimmering stream in the valley and blue-tinged mountains in the distance. In the foreground there were beautiful meadow blossoms. The blue of the forget-me-nots was dominant, but there were also splashes of white and pink flowers that she recognized but couldn’t name. They came so close to the observer that it felt as if she were lying on her stomach among the meadow flowers and peeking over the edge down into the long valley, up toward the two gaudy butterflies. The sky was not blue, but a silvery white circle above the mountains dispersed a strong light that became a warm pink at the outer edges. It was not the sun and not the moon. It was the Light.
Detective Inspector Huss: A Huss Investigation set in Sweden, Vol. 1 Page 47
