After only a month Irene had noticed that her new boss was less and less interested in hearing her views. She hardly ever dealt with Irene personally, not even if something major was going on. She usually sent an email. On one occasion Irene had tentatively asked why she did this. Efva Thylqvist had smiled sweetly and said, “It saves me coming all the way to your office.”
Any assignment that appeared to be remotely routine ended up on Irene’s desk, and she had started to feel marginalized. She realized that her self-confidence had taken a knock, but sometimes there was light at the end of the tunnel, and she had the opportunity to get involved in the operational side of things. Like yesterday, when the call about the dead girl in Nötsund had come in. Then again, that was probably because only she and Jonny had been available to go out there.
Another reason why Irene was feeling lonely was no doubt because Birgitta Moberg-Rauhala was on leave. She had started reading law at the university back in the fall, and she had at least another year to go. After that she would be able to start applying for higher level posts within the police service. When they had met up for a quick lunch a month ago, Birgitta had hinted that she might carry on with her studies; she was considering training to be a lawyer or a prosecutor. Things were going well for her, and she was really enjoying the course. Her husband, Hannu Rauhala, was still on the team, and according to Birgitta he was happy to support whatever decision she made. Their son, Timo, was almost five years old, and they had decided not to have any more children. The grief had been too great after the late miscarriage Birgitta had suffered a few years earlier. As usual, Hannu hadn’t said a word to his colleagues. The ice-blond man from Tornedalen had been as inscrutable as ever.
At the moment Irene was the only female inspector in the department, and she suspected that this suited Efva Thylqvist perfectly.
Just as the thought flitted through Irene’s mind, the superintendent walked in, closely followed by Tommy Persson.
“Good morning! Has everyone got a cup of coffee?”
Efva Thylqvist smiled as her gaze swept around the table. Irene noticed that she barely registered on Thylqvist’s radar; it definitely looked as if she was avoiding eye contact with Irene. On the other hand, the superintendent lingered on Fredrik Stridh’s handsome face. He had recently gotten married, and was due to become a father at the end of August. To everyone’s surprise, the department’s eternal bachelor and ladies’ man had fallen head over heels for a nurse during a vacation to Barcelona the previous spring. Everything had happened very quickly after that: a wedding on New Year’s Eve, the move to a larger apartment, and now a baby on the way.
Irene suddenly became aware of a strange feeling. She vaguely recognized it, and realized it had been bubbling inside her for quite some time. It took a while before she was able to identify it, but she got there in the end: rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. A second later she made a decision. Whatever happened, she was no longer prepared to be treated like an inferior being by Efva Thylqvist. She was no longer prepared to put up with that woman’s disparaging attitude. It wasn’t going to be easy; Superintendent Thylqvist was her boss, and she wouldn’t hesitate to pull rank if she felt threatened.
Jonny Blom had placed the preliminary autopsy report on Alexandra Hallwiin on the table in front of him. Irene reached across and grabbed the pile of papers; she moved so fast he didn’t have a chance to react. He glared at her and opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, but Irene merely gave him a placatory smile. The irritation in his eyes was gradually replaced by a certain level of confusion, and before he had time to speak, Efva Thylqvist took charge.
“Okay, let’s make a start.” She smiled and looked at Fredrik Stridh.
“Anything new on the car bomb?’
He seemed pleased to be the focus of her attention, and answered quickly. “No, but I’ll be speaking to a fresh witness later today. A man walking his dog saw an older model Merc parked next to Roger ‘the Hulk’ Hansson’s brand-new Jag. The timing is interesting; it was about eleven fifteen. Hansson left the restaurant at his usual time, just after one thirty. And as we know the bomb went off when he opened the car door.”
“How serious was the injury to his foot?” Thylqvist asked.
“Only superficial. The force of the bomb was directed toward the passenger side of the car; it had probably been set up incorrectly.”
“Useless bastards—they never get anything right,” Jonny Blom said, just loud enough to be heard.
Efva Thylqvist managed a half-smile and turned her attention to him.
“Has anything come in on the Alexandra Hallwiin case?”
Before Jonny could answer, Irene took the initiative.
“It has. We received a preliminary autopsy report this morning; the forensic pathologist will get back to us later this afternoon with more details, but definitive information will take a few days,” she said.
She glanced down at the papers in front of her.
“Dental records have enabled us to officially identify the body as that of Alexandra Hallwiin. She went missing on Walpurgis Night, and according to the report it seems likely that she ended up in the water during the first twenty-four hours following her disappearance. This means she had been submerged for approximately four days. There was a thin electrical cable wrapped tightly around her neck when she was found. The cause of death is probably strangulation. She was wearing only a black lace bra. There are knife marks on her inner thighs, around her breasts and up toward her neck. However, these are not stab wounds; it looks as if the perpetrator used a knife to inflict a series of deep scratches. Damage to the area around the anus and vagina suggests penetration with a blunt object. Even though the autopsy has not been completed, it is obvious that the body has been subjected to serious sexual violence. There are also knife wounds around the pudenda; the ME thinks the killer tried to make a pattern using the knife.”
Irene stopped reading and looked up.
Efva Thylqvist was gazing at her expressionlessly. After a few seconds she turned to Jonny. “Are there still no witnesses who saw Alexandra after she left home?”
“No,” Irene replied quickly, before Jonny had the chance to speak.
Without looking at Irene, the superintendent said in a neutral tone of voice, “Jonny, you carry on with the investigation into Alexandra’s death.”
Then she turned to Hannu Rauhala. “What do we know about the other girl?”
“She’s also been identified with the help of dental records,” Hannu replied. “Moa Olsson, born September second, 1992. Fifteen years old.”
Alexandra Hallwiin was exactly a year younger than Moa, Irene thought.
“She lived in Salviagatan, not far from the place where she was discovered; two and a half kilometers as the crow flies. The body was found in the forest at Gårdstensbergen; it’s a recreational area with designated running tracks. But it was cold and wet the week leading up to Walpurgis Night. There weren’t many people around. According to Moa’s mother, she went missing the previous weekend, probably Sunday, April twenty-eighth. The mother’s name is Kicki Olsson. She’s been given early retirement. Mental problems, alcohol abuse. She got home at around nine on Sunday morning and doesn’t remember whether Moa was there or not. But she thinks so.”
“When was she reported missing?”
“On the following Tuesday.”
“So she’d been gone for . . . seven or eight days,” the superintendent said, looking pensive. “Who reported her?” she went on.
“The mother. I assume she’d started to sober up by then,” Hannu said dryly.
“So she has a serious problem with alcohol.”
“Yes. There was an older brother who died in a car accident three years ago. He was seventeen; no driver’s license, drunk at the wheel. The car was stolen from Angered Square fifteen minutes before the crash. Kicki Olsson hasn’t been able to work si
nce.”
“What did she do?”
“She was a cleaner at IKEA in Bäckebol.”
“What about the father?”
“Out of the picture; the two kids had different fathers,” Hannu explained.
“Okay, we need to check out both fathers. And find out whether the mother has a new man on the go; if so, check him out too. What does the ME say about the cause of death?”
“Nothing definite. Decomposition had set in, and animals had been at the body. Entomological samples have been taken for testing. They estimate that she’d probably been lying there for at least a week. She seems to have been subjected to extreme sexual violence, based on the appearance of some of her injuries. She was completely naked. The dog that found the body had picked up her panties. They’d fallen off as the killer dragged her up the hill to hide her in a crevice in the rock.”
“The hill? He climbed a hill with a dead body?” Jonny exclaimed skeptically.
“A small hill, with a path leading to the top,” Hannu said.
“Can you drive there?” Tommy wondered.
“Yes. There’s a parking lot no more than a hundred meters from the spot where she was found, and a gravel path leading from there to the hill; it’s perfectly possible to drive all the way. CSI has secured several different tire tracks. The problem is all the rain we’ve had since she disappeared.”
The superintendent nodded; she realized this could cause problems. She gave a start as Irene suddenly spoke up again.
“It feels as if everything is a bit much right now. We’ve already got several ongoing investigations piled up, and now these new cases . . . I’m just wondering when we’ll be getting a replacement for Birgitta,” she said calmly.
“We don’t have time to discuss that at the moment,” the superintendent replied brusquely.
“But I think we’d all like to know where we stand in terms of reinforcements,” Irene persisted.
“Robert Backman was only available for three months,” Efva Thylqvist snapped.
“Yes, but that was before Christmas. We haven’t had anyone in place of Birgitta since then.”
You’re saving money, Irene thought, making every effort not to show what was going through her mind. Thylqvist was starting to look uncomfortable.
“It’s not that easy; people start taking their vacations in June,” she defended herself.
“I agree with Irene. We’ve been under far too much pressure since New Year’s, and all through the spring. We need a replacement as soon as possible.”
Irene was both surprised and grateful as Tommy spoke up. By now it was clear that the superintendent was far from happy, and she couldn’t hide her annoyance.
“Every department has the same problems! There’s nobody available. Birgitta’s leave of absence ends in August; she might be back then.”
“She won’t,” Hannu pointed out.
And he ought to know. Even Efva Thylqvist wasn’t about to contradict him. Instead her face suddenly lit up. “Oh, so she’s decided to carry on with her studies?” she said in a pleasant tone of voice. “In that case we need to act in accordance with this new information.”
As if you don’t know that already, Irene thought. Both she and Hannu knew perfectly well that Birgitta had applied for an extension of her leave of absence several weeks ago.
The internal telephone suddenly crackled to life.
“Hello? Are you there? Superintendent Thylqvist?” said a female voice.
“I’m here,” the superintendent said, leaning toward the speaker on the table.
“We’ve just had a call. A body has been found on Korsvägen, walled up in a cellar. Can you send someone over to take a look?”
No one in the room moved or even blinked. They were all dumbstruck, staring at the soulless grey plastic box as if it had suddenly turned into a hissing viper.
“You didn’t give Efva much room to maneuver,” Tommy Persson remarked.
Irene was sitting beside him in the passenger seat. She turned and looked at his profile; was there a hint of reproach in his voice?
“Somebody had to say it. Thanks for your support,” she said, keeping her tone light.
“I agree with you—the workload is starting to become untenable. But maybe that wasn’t the right time to bring it up.”
He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Was there something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to spit out?
“Maybe not. But right now it feels as if it’s never the right time to bring up any problems in the department. These two fresh homicides just make it all too much. That’s how I felt, and somebody had to say something.”
“Efva is extremely conscientious, and of course she wants the department’s work to flow as smoothly as possible. But she’s got a lot on her plate. I see how hard she works . . .”
Tommy left the last sentence hanging in the air. He was obviously keen to defend the superintendent, which made Irene feel a little sad, if not exactly surprised. It wasn’t unexpected. Efva Thylqvist was good at her job, and she could be immensely charming when it suited her. Irene had noticed that she was always charming toward Tommy. He had spent a year in close proximity to her by now.
“Jonny didn’t look too pleased when you said you were coming with me to Korsvägen,” he went on.
“Well, Efva told him he was working on the investigation into Alexandra’s death, so I thought it was self-evident that he ought to write the report. It’s his responsibility after all,” Irene replied, her tone completely neutral.
To tell the truth she was very pleased with the way she had handled the situation. If Thylqvist wanted Jonny to head up the case, then it was only fair that he took on the boring paperwork. She wasn’t his private secretary. He hadn’t even managed to come up with a good excuse. He had reluctantly snatched the preliminary autopsy report from Irene before she followed him out of the room, smiling to herself.
“Don’t forget where we’re going. Another body. Walled up, apparently. If we’re lucky it happened a hundred years ago, otherwise we have another homicide on our hands,” she said, trying to remain positive. It hadn’t been a long journey; it is just over a kilometer from police HQ to Korsvägen.
They climbed down a steel ladder to reach the bottom of the cellar, and stepped over piles of debris. Göran Jansson, the foreman, led them over to the chimney. The hole in the brickwork was approximately one and a half meters in diameter, and about half a meter above the ground. The sleeve of a dark jacket was sticking out of the hole, with a shriveled hand protruding from the sleeve.
Irene and Tommy moved over to the hole and peered inside. The body was in a half-sitting position. The beam of their flashlight showed a grinning cranium with parchment-brown skin stretched over the bones. The yellowing teeth gleamed as the light caught them.
“A mummy,” Irene said.
“Male, judging by the clothes,” Tommy said.
Irene tried to see how the body was dressed. It was covered in a thick layer of dust from the demolition. The only things she could see clearly were the sleeve and dark pants.
“It’s a waterproof jacket, maybe a windbreaker. He hasn’t been here for a hundred years, unfortunately.” She sighed.
“I guess you’re right.”
“I don’t think Efva can keep on saying no. We have to have a replacement for Birgitta. Right now.”
Irene was trying not to sound too aggressive, but a sideways glance from Tommy told her that he had picked up something in her voice.
Instead of answering, he turned to Göran Jansson. “What happened when you discovered the body?”
“It was pretty gruesome. When the wrecking ball hit the chimney, it almost looked as if the guy had stuck his arm out through the hole! Like, deliberately! I saw the arm come out and and I started waving and shouting at Janne to stop him swinging the
ball again. Although I expect the . . . body . . . was damaged anyway, with all the stuff that came crashing down . . .”
“Probably, but thanks to your vigilance it looks in pretty good shape,” Tommy said, smiling reassuringly at the foreman.
Göran Jansson managed a wan smile in return. Finding a body had been both surprising and stressful. Seeing that kind of thing on cop shows on TV is one thing, but experiencing it in real life is something completely different.
“Can I get you guys a coffee?” he said, pointing to a temporary office parked a short distance from the site.
“Please. We’ll need to cordon off this area until forensics has finished. They’re working on two other cases at the moment, so they won’t be here for at least an hour. Unfortunately you won’t be able to carry on working until they’re done,” Tommy explained.
Jansson’s face clouded over for a moment, but he realized there was nothing he could do. A walled-up, mummified corpse couldn’t be ignored.
They stood outside drinking freshly made coffee. The sun was shining, and it was very pleasant in the shelter of the office. Irene leaned back against the wooden wall and turned her face up to the sun. It had been notable by its absence, as her mother, Gerd, used to say.
The Treacherous Net Page 2
