“I heard.”
Irene thought out loud. “Maybe he couldn’t use his cell. It’s the latest model. Perhaps he hadn’t learned how it works,” she hypothesized.
“Possibly. But …”
“Look at you two, having a cozy little chat!” came a familiar voice behind Irene.
She turned around with a sarcastic comment aimed at Tommy and his companion on the tip of her tongue, but quickly swallowed it. He was standing there all alone, smiling at her. There was no sign of Linda Holm.
THE TIME SPENT in custody was beginning to take its toll on Niklas Ström. There were dark circles under his eyes, suggesting a severe lack of sleep. His entire body constantly twitched and jerked uncontrollably, and it was completely impossible for him to sit still. The frequency of involuntary snorts and inarticulate noises also seemed to have increased. Irene noticed that his nails were bitten down to the quick.
Jonny started the interview, but soon handed over to Irene. He couldn’t get Niklas to answer a single question properly. Irene had carefully considered her approach.
“Niklas, are you scared of ending up back in jail with an extended sentence?” she asked.
He immediately looked up from his frantically drumming fingers and met her gaze. “What the fuck do you think?” he snapped.
“Let me explain something. At the moment you and Billy are suspected of murder, or involvement in a murder. And I’m not talking about running down a guy who later died of his injuries. I’m talking about the murder of a young girl.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Are you fucking crazy, you …”
Niklas tried to get up from his chair, but was stopped dead by Irene’s voice, which sliced through the air like the crack of a whip, “Sit down! Listen to me!”
He slumped back down on the chair and stared defiantly at her. Irene noticed he had beautiful aquamarine eyes.
“This is something we have to look into because we have evidence that you and Billy were in the area when the murder was committed. We found your fingerprints in the car that belonged to the man who was run down. The car must have been stolen on the day he died. And the girl was also killed that same evening.”
She paused and looked searchingly at him. He refused to meet her eye and sat with his head down, grunting repeatedly. His upper body rocked back and forth as if an invisible person were gently shaking him.
“It’s going to take us a long time to investigate the girl’s death. You and Billy will be held in custody for a lengthy period. There is also a risk that the officers concerned will draw the wrong conclusions. The court may do the same. This means that you might be given a considerably longer sentence than you really deserve. In order to avoid this, we need your help. We have to know the truth.”
She fell silent again to see whether he was listening and had understood what she was saying. His face was twitching violently, and loud groans were forcing their way out of his mouth. The prospect of spending an unspecified amount of time in custody was clearly causing him great distress. The risk of a longer sentence wasn’t exactly appealing either.
“Niklas. Tell me exactly what happened on the night of January seventeenth. You will save both yourself and Billy a whole lot of grief. You’ve done what you’ve done, and you’ll go down for that. But surely it’s unnecessary to put yourselves through the lengthy process of a homicide inquiry? Is there anything you’d like to tell me about the girl?”
“What fucking girl? I don’t know nothing about no fucking girl! We …” He stopped and looked insolently at her. “I didn’t see no fucking girl!”
“So what did you see?”
By now he was writhing around on the chair so violently that he was in danger of falling off. His anguish was clear.
“Sit still, for God’s sake!” Jonny yelled.
Irene had almost forgotten that he was there. The effect on Niklas was instantaneous. His movements grew even more pronounced, and he glared at Jonny, his beautiful eyes burning with hatred. Something told Irene that Niklas had often heard those particular words.
“Niklas, listen to me. I am trying to help you. I am trying to explain to you what is going on,” she said.
The important thing was to sound calm and trustworthy. She felt as if she and the hyperactive boy on the other side of the table had managed to establish some kind of fragile contact, and then Jonny came trampling in and shattered a trust that was thinner than sheet ice that had formed overnight. She threw him an irritated look before turning her attention back to Niklas.
“We are investigating two crimes. Both crimes took place at virtually the same time. First of all there is the hit-and-run, which had a fatal outcome. The witnesses saw two guys in a BMW that had been stolen on Stampgatan. Outside the TV studios they hit a man who died immediately from the injuries he sustained. We will be arranging a lineup for the witnesses with you and Billy. You both fit the descriptions we have been given. Stealing cars and running people down are serious offenses. But they are nowhere near as serious as premeditated murder. And that’s the second crime we are looking into. That will lead to a lengthy jail term.”
She paused to let her words sink in. Niklas didn’t say anything, but Irene had a strong feeling that he was listening.
“When we found the BMW in flames on the road leading down to the canoe club, we naturally carried out a detailed search of the area. Lots of police officers and dogs—you know how it goes. And we found the body of a young girl. She had been killed at approximately the time when the BMW drove onto that road, and her body was hidden close by.”
Irene sent up a silent prayer that Jonny would have the sense to keep quiet. For once it seemed as if her prayer had been answered. Niklas twitched and looked sharply at her.
“You mean the girl in that cellar? Like some kind of root cellar? It has to be, right? Are you crazy? We were …” He broke off, staring at Irene.
She took no notice, and calmly continued. “So you’ve read and heard about the murder. Yes, it’s the girl in the root cellar. You have to understand that we cannot simply dismiss any suspicion that you were involved. You were there. You had the opportunity. And—”
“That’s a fucking lie! We never …” Niklas was breathing heavily and seemed to be in danger of hyperventilating.
“I can understand that you don’t want to be linked to a premeditated murder. But in order for us to remove that suspicion, you have to tell the truth. You have to tell us what really happened that night.”
Niklas remained silent for a long time, chewing on a bloody fingertip. Both knees bobbed up and down as he rapidly flexed his toes. His breathing was shallow and audible.
“I need to … think. And I want my lawyer!” he said firmly.
“Of course. We’ll contact your legal representative right away, then we can meet again this evening or tomorrow,” Irene said.
She had to make a real effort to hide her disappointment. Naturally Niklas had every right to have his lawyer present, but she felt as if he had been on the point of starting to talk.
She switched off the tape recorder and got ready to leave. Niklas was on his feet.
“We didn’t see nothing! There was no one there! Just the car,” he said suddenly.
Irene stiffened and her mouth went dry. She mustn’t say the wrong thing now!
“What car? You mean the BMW?” she said almost indifferently as she put her notepad and pen away in her shoulder bag.
“No, not the BMW! The Opel! The white Opel!”
For a few seconds Irene completely lost focus. Behind her she heard Jonny’s sharp intake of breath.
“You mean the Opel that you and Billy later drove out to Olofstorp?” she managed to say when she had more or less pulled herself together.
After another bout of head twitching, Niklas replied, “Yes.”
“So you and Billy abandoned the stolen BMW and torched it. Then you took the car that was parked by the barrier. How did you get it started?”
�
�The keys were in the ignition.” Suddenly he looked completely calm. His finger had started bleeding, and there was blood on his lips. He licked them and gazed thoughtfully at his finger.
“The keys were in the ignition,” Irene said, frantically trying to think.
“Did you know the Opel was going to be there?” Jonny asked.
At first it looked like Niklas wasn’t going to answer, but then he shrugged. “How the fuck would we know that? It was just there, okay?”
He moved over to the door to wait patiently for his escort back to the custody cell. Irene was completely at a loss.
Torleif Sandberg’s car had been parked on the side road leading down to the canoe club. Unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. Why had the car been there? And why had he abandoned it and gone running off into the cold winter night?
That was why Niklas and Billy had been able to disappear so quickly. They had already been far away by the time the helicopters were brought in the following morning.
“How did you manage to get past the roadblocks?” Irene asked Niklas.
“Side roads. There are plenty of them up around Delsjö,” he said.
For the first time Irene saw the hint of a smile on his face. He was probably quite pleased with the way he and Billy had gotten away.
When the door closed behind Niklas and the guards, Irene heard Jonny mutter, “What the hell …”
She couldn’t help but agree with him.
ANDERSSON LOOKED FAR from happy by the time Irene had finished reporting back on the interview with Niklas Ström. The only reason he didn’t protest was Jonny was sitting next to her and confirmed everything she had said.
“What the hell was Torleif doing there?” the superintendent asked.
“I have no idea. But it’s very odd. He had serious frostbite injuries, which suggests that he didn’t try to run straight home. And according to Wallström’s witness statement, the Opel was already there when he and his girlfriend arrived at about eight thirty.”
“So you’re saying the idiot must have been rambling around for over an hour before he was run down on Delsjövägen,” Jonny said dubiously.
“Hardly. As I said before, he knew the area like the back of his hand,” Andersson said firmly.
“Could he have seen the killer come along and dump Tanya in the root cellar? And then maybe he tried to follow whoever it was? I mean, Torleif was a good runner. If the killer left on foot, then …”
Irene broke off. The idea that struck her almost knocked her off her chair.
“Oh my God! Excuse me,” she said as she got to her feet.
When she got to the door, she turned around and said, “Svante!”
Then she was gone.
Andersson frowned at Jonny. They both shook their heads and exchanged a look of mutual sympathy.
Chapter 24
BEFORE IRENE WENT home for the day, she called the hospital to see how her mother was. The nurse informed her that Gerd was feeling a little tired, but by and large she was recovering well.
“She had an intertrochanteric fracture, which is the most common hip fracture in older people; it occurs at the neck of the femur. Because the ball joint itself was in a poor condition, we’ve removed it, so Gerd has a new prosthetic hip. One slight problem is that she also has a small crack in her coccyx,” the pleasant professional voice explained.
“And what can be done about that?” Irene asked anxiously.
“Not much, unfortunately. It is causing her pain, and that could go on for quite some time.”
“Can I come up and see her in a little while?”
“Of course.”
SHE HAD EVIDENTLY arrived in the middle of the rush hour when it came to visiting, because it was almost impossible to find a parking space. Eventually she spotted one and slammed the Volvo in right in front of a VW Polo. The driver of the smaller car reacted with a series of long, angry blasts on the horn, but Irene pretended not to notice. She bestowed a sweet smile on her furious fellow driver and hurried off to the ticket machine.
Up on the ward there was a lot of activity in the corridor. A male auxiliary was maneuvering a huge stainless steel container, rattling toward the elevators as he transported the dinner trays back to the central kitchen.
Gerd was no longer alone in her room. The occupant of the bed by the window was snoring loudly. Judging by the shape under the blanket, it was a very well-built woman. There was a frame at the end of the bed to stop the bedclothes from touching her feet.
Gerd was lying there with her eyes closed. A lump came into Irene’s throat as she gazed at her mother; she looked like a pale, fragile china doll. Irene edged toward the bed and bent down to stroke her mother’s white hair. Gerd opened her eyes and smiled.
“You don’t imagine I can sleep with this racket going on, do you?” she said.
Irene was relieved to find that her mother hadn’t lost her sense of humor.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Well, I know I’ve had surgery, but I thought it would be worse. I’m starting physical therapy tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Isn’t that a bit soon?”
“It’s to minimize the risk of blood clots.”
Irene was suddenly aware that she had turned up empty-handed. “I didn’t know if you were allowed flowers on this ward. And I didn’t know if you were eating yet. So tomorrow I’ll—”
“Don’t bother. Bring me a few magazines instead. And one of those things you can play talking books on. Then I can plug in my earphones, and I won’t have to listen to …” She gestured toward her neighbor who had just taken a deep breath culminating in a huge snore, after a period of total silence. It sounded as if she was swallowing her tongue and choking.
“Sleep apnea. It’s dangerous. It can lead to a stroke,” Gerd said knowledgeably. She always read medical articles with great interest. You have to know more than the doctors if you’re going to cope with being ill, she always said.
All at once she looked sharply at Irene. “Did you get hold of Sture?”
This was the moment Irene had been dreading. She took one of Gerd’s hands in both of her own. It was ice-cold.
“Mom … Sture … He …”
“He’s dead.”
Gerd was looking straight at her as she spoke. Her eyes shone with tears which slowly rolled down her cheeks and onto the pillow.
“Yes. I found him when … when I went over there,” Irene said, her voice breaking.
Gerd nodded, as if Irene had confirmed something that she had already suspected. For a long time Irene sat there holding her mother’s hand.
The tears were still flowing when Gerd suddenly said, “He had a feeling he was going to die. He called me on Saturday to say goodbye. That was why I went out even though I knew it was icy, and I shouldn’t have … I wanted to see him before …” She waved her free hand toward the bedside table, where there was a pile of paper napkins. Irene passed her a handful.
“Why didn’t he call an ambulance?” Irene asked.
Gerd blew her nose on the crackly napkin before she answered. “That’s exactly what I told him to do … he said he would, just as soon as we’d hung up. But he obviously decided not to, or else he didn’t have time.”
“I don’t think he had time. It must have happened very quickly.”
“Where … how did you find him?”
There was no point in lying and saying that he’d been in bed. One of Sture’s neighbors was bound to know what had happened; he or she would mention it to an acquaintance in the grocery store, who in turn would speak to someone who happened to live near Gerd, and that person would … She was bound to find out one way or another.
“He was lying on the bathroom floor. But he hadn’t hurt himself. It looked like he had just decided to lie down. Peaceful. He looked peaceful,” Irene said.
Gerd squeezed her hand. “Thank you. Thank you,” was all she said.
Irene stayed with her mother for over an hour. By the time
she left, Gerd had fallen asleep—or at least she was lying there with her eyes closed, in spite of the deafening snores from the other bed.
THE ENTIRE HALLWAY was strewn with boxes. The twins had obviously decided to start packing; they would be moving in a couple of weeks.
The house would be empty.
That was the disadvantage of having twins; they always hit the various stages of life simultaneously despite the fact that they were so different in terms of character. It was entirely logical for them both to move out at the same time, which doubled the sense of loss. On the other hand, it meant that Irene would need to work through empty-nest syndrome only once. But perhaps it never went away completely?
“Mom! I’m taking my bed!” Jenny yelled from upstairs.
Irene hadn’t even taken off her coat. She called back, “Okay!”
“Great! In that case I’ll take the curtains as well. We bought them to match the bedspread,” her daughter replied happily.
Really? Irene couldn’t remember, but perhaps Jenny was right. They had definitely bought the bedspread with stripes in every color of the rainbow at IKEA because she had been there. But as for the curtains …
“I’m taking the bedroom and there’s already a lovely double bed, so mine can stay here,” Katarina said, emerging from the bathroom with a pile of fluffy white bath towels. Also from IKEA. Brand new. Not even used.
“Those are mine,” Irene said.
“Ours. Me and Jenny need one each.”
“One each. You’ve got four there. At least,” Irene pointed out sourly.
“Yes, but we need spares. Our mom raised us to be good clean girls,” Katarina countered with a smile.
“I said you could take some towels from the linen closet. Not the new ones!” Krister called out from the kitchen.
Katarina sighed and rolled her eyes. “Surely we can have one each.”
Irene’s heart softened. “Okay. One each of the new ones and two of the old ones. Take the red ones. You can put the rest on your birthday wish list.”
“Cool!” Katarina said.
The Beige Man Page 26
