The locksmith arrived and opened the door. He disappeared as quickly as he had shown up.
The light in the hall was on. Both Irene and Hannu stopped in the doorway in order to get an overview of the situation. One of Bolin’s framed gallery photos was lying on the floor, completely broken into pieces. The glass was crushed, the frame was broken into small bits, and the picture itself had been cut into strips. They were wide enough that Irene could make out the shape of an infant’s head against a woman’s chest in one of them. It was the photo of Erik Bolin’s family.
From a door on the left, which had been closed when Irene had been there the day before, a trail of rust red stains led to the outer door.
Hannu saw it first. He gave a start and Irene followed his eyes to a point above her right shoulder. She screamed. The floor rocked.
Erik Bolin’s head lay on top of a hat rack, gazing at them with half-closed eyes.
“Stand still,” said Hannu.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called for backup.
“WELL, WELL. Now Irene is home again and they’re starting to drop like flies here in Göteborg,” said Jonny.
He laughed loudly in order to show that it was a joke but none of the others were smiling. Andersson gave him a dark look that effectively silenced any more such comments. The superintendent turned to Irene and said, “Could you sum up your actions yesterday and today?”
Irene gave an account of her visit to Bolin’s studio. She went to get Manpower from her office since Fredrik Stridh and Birgitta Moberg hadn’t seen it. Then she told them about her conversation with Sara Bolin that morning. She briefly mentioned the visit she and Hannu had made to Björnekulla in order to inform the widow of her husband’s death.
“She had a complete breakdown. A pastor and relatives are there with her now. We’ll have to wait to ask any new questions for a couple of days.”
Irene tried to gather strength for what was coming. She was still under the effects of the scene that had met them when they went into the studio.
THEY HAD carefully stepped up to the closed door. Hannu had opened it with his toe cap. There was a spacious bathroom inside. A naked, headless body lay in the huge bathtub. From her position in the doorway, Irene saw that the body looked like Emil’s, except for the fact that the head was missing. Hannu took a few steps inside the room, watching where he put his feet. There was a lot of blood on the floor.
“Cut open. Trauma to the pelvic area. Genitalia and chest muscles are cut away,” he ascertained.
“Can you see if the buttocks are missing?” she said.
“No. There’s a lot of blood and . . .”
He stopped and shook his head before retreating.
“We can’t do much before the technicians have done their stuff,” he said.
Irene was grateful to have avoided seeing the mutilated body. It was an accusation against her, personally. She should have known that Erik was in danger. He had taken the picture of Basta, and that picture had almost cost Tom Tanaka his life. Manpower was the connection between Tom and Erik Bolin.
Everything was as it had been in the studio, except that the place where the destroyed photo had been hanging was empty. A blank. The police patrol arrived and the technicians came soon after.
Hannu stood in front of the salt-sprayed study of Marcus for a long time before he turned to Irene and said, “You’re right. Erik was in love with Marcus.”
They heard a commotion at the outer door. Irene and Hannu turned and saw Professor Yvonne Stridner in person sail into the hall. This was highly unusual.
“Where’s the body?” she said in a high voice to no one in particular.
She expected that one of the servants would answer. Police technician Svante Malm gestured silently toward the bathroom door and then returned to the blood trail under the hat rack. Stridner was in such a hurry that she missed the head on the shelf, but no one stopped her in order to draw her attention to it.
After barely a minute, the professor asked in a loud voice, “Have you found the head?”
Without taking his eyes from what he was doing, Svante Malm pointed up at the ordinary wire hat rack with its macabre decoration. Even Stridner became speechless at the sight.
“STRIDNER SAYS that she thinks Bolin has also been strangled but she wasn’t sure. She’ll be in touch when she has taken a closer look at the body,” Irene concluded.
No one interrupted her while she was talking, but now the superintendent sighed. “To cut off the head! What a sick thing to come up with!”
“A new element,” said Hannu.
“It was Emil’s job to cut off the head and limbs. We’ve seen that in the videos. And the murderer didn’t bother to do so in Emil’s and Isabell’s murders.” Irene said.
“Then why is he starting with this now?” Andersson asked.
Irene remembered what Yvonne Stridner had said that time when Irene visited her at Pathology. Stumbling, she attempted to explain. “His inner images have changed. He sees things inside that he needs to act out. According to Stridner, it’s an incredibly strong urge. Clearly, he has added this thing with the head to his inner image.”
Andersson nodded and tried to look like he was following this explanation.
Jonny asked permission to speak. “About this thing with the pictures, one of Marcus’s videos is different from the others. It’s more like one Emil would have liked. Lots of blood and slaughter. Interestingly enough, it’s of women, not a lot of queers. Damned sick, anyway.”
“What’s it called?” Hannu asked.
“Don’t remember,” Jonny answered.
“Go get it,” said Andersson.
Reluctantly, Jonny sauntered off to his office. He came back with a video in hand. Hannu reached out for it.
“It doesn’t say anything on it,” he determined.
“It’s a copy of a feature-length film. The title is at the beginning,” Jonny informed them.
Hannu disappeared into a room with video equipment. While they were waiting, Birgitta informed them that she had found Marcus’s password.
“He had saved it in Netscape Bookmarks. Guess what it is?”
She paused for effect and looked around at the curious faces in the room. She slowly turned her notebook, which she had in her lap. In black ink it said: 69 Hotnights.
“Hot nights? That’s ridiculous!” Irene exclaimed.
“I’ve found a customer and address list, different jobs, and so on. I’ll print out the things that seem interesting,” Birgitta continued.
“Have you found any names we recognize yet?” asked Irene.
“Not yet. But I’ve barely had time to look at them.”
Hannu came in with the videotape in hand. He had put the cassette back in the cover.
“It’s The New York Ripper,” he said.
Everyone looked puzzled, and finally he realized that he would have to explain himself.
“It’s illegal. It shows real murders.”
“A snuff movie?” Fredrik asked.
“Yes.”
“But aren’t those just tall tales? I was under the impression that it was never proved that there were actual murders in the films,” said Birgitta.
“I know the names of three of them that show actual killings. One of them is The New York Ripper,” Hannu said firmly.
Irene turned toward Jonny.
“Was this the only movie with this kind of content?” she asked.
Jonny nodded sullenly.
“Was there any element of sadistic sex in the other films?”
“Yes. Sick types with leather whips and several guys on top of one guy and that sort of thing. Disgusting!”
“They’re not very different from heterosexual porn films,” Irene said dryly.
“Of course, you’re very familiar with those,” Jonny sneered.
“Yes. As everyone is well aware, I’ve spent a good deal of time in Vesterbro. You don’t need to see the films. It’s enough just lo
oking in the display windows,” she countered coldly.
Jonny snorted but didn’t continue the dispute.
“I’ll leave this with the technicians,” Hannu said and disappeared again with the video cover in a careful hold.
“Maybe I should try and call Copenhagen? It would be interesting to know if The New York Ripper is among Emil’s videos,” said Irene.
The superintendent nodded.
“Do that. And inform them about this latest murder.”
He turned toward Fredrik Stridh.
“Take some guys and start knocking on doors as soon as possible. This bastard has had incredible luck but it has to run out at some point. And this time the trail is fresh and we can go after him quickly.”
Irene nodded. “And he has actually left evidence behind. He must have been panicked when he destroyed the photo of Bolin’s family. Why? Well, the picture he wanted wasn’t in the studio. Because it’s standing here.”
She pointed at Manpower, which was leaning against the wall just inside the door.
“Do you think that picture is so important that he’s willing to kill for it?” Andersson objected skeptically.
“Yes. Think about what happened to Tom Tanaka. There are probably only two enlargements of Manpower. Marcus had one of them. He deposited it, along with the picture of himself, at Tom Tanaka’s before he left for his supposed vacation. For some reason he let the other picture of himself leaning against the pillows hang in Emil’s apartment. Either Emil got it from Marcus or he took it after Marcus was dead. But Basta found out where Manpower was, probably through Emil. And he knew that Erik Bolin had the other enlargement along with some small pictures and negatives. But there wasn’t as much of a hurry with Bolin. Basta probably didn’t think that we would find out who had taken the pictures.”
“According to the preliminary report from Stridner, Bolin has been dead for more than twelve hours. That means the murderer must have arrived pretty early in the evening. Someone may have seen him,” said Birgitta.
Irene wasn’t so sure about that. Kastellgatan was relatively quiet and calm, without many shops. But there was always a possibility.
PETER MØLLER answered the telephone despite the fact that it was after six o’clock. Irene couldn’t hear any guardedness in his voice; instead, it sounded as though he thought it was nice that she was calling. She started by asking if The New York Ripper was among Emil’s films. Peter promised to find out. When she had relayed the day’s discovery of the latest murder he became very serious.
“He’s following you,” he said.
That wasn’t what Irene wanted to hear. The short hairs rose up on her neck and she shivered, despite the summer heat. Peter wasn’t the first one to point this out. And she had thought about it herself many times lately. The murderer was close by.
“How’s Tom?” she asked in order to change the subject.
“He’s conscious but very tired. The doctor said that he had to be sewn up with over a hundred stitches. Your friend Tom is beautifully embroidered.”
Irene’s heart ached in sympathy. Poor Tom, who was so appearance conscious. She remembered the silver threads he had twisted around his hair knots and his blue nail polish.
“Could you please say hello to him from me? Actually, can you buy a bouquet of flowers from me? I’ll send money.”
“Buy flowers! If I could understand what you and that . . . OK. I’ll do it.”
It was quiet for a moment and Irene was just about to end the phone call when Peter said, “Jens told me that you had asked him about my trip to South Africa. That you thought I became cross and strange when you asked about it.”
“Yes . . . it had to do with the fact that Marcus had talked about a police officer who worked in Vesterbro, and then he was tricked into going to Göteborg with the promise of a trip to Thailand . . . and you were tan,” she tried to explain.
She quietly blessed the fact that the Göteborg police didn’t have videophones. A blush spread across her cheeks. Peter’s answer strengthened her wish that videophones might never become standard.
“The trip to South Africa was an attempt at patching up my marriage. But it didn’t work. The trip was a catastrophe from beginning to end.”
He paused and then added, “It’s too bad that you brought up that trip. I became . . . upset. Otherwise it could have been a very pleasant evening ...and night, for both of us.”
Irene was surprised. At the same time she became aware of the tingling warmth spreading between her thighs. Peter was beautiful. His eyes were so blue and his body so muscular and agile. He smelled good and he moved in a sexy way. Her breathing quickened. God! Two police officers almost having phone sex, while talking about a bestial murderer!
She couldn’t help but laugh. Half joking, she said, “Maybe I should drive down to Copenhagen and visit my good friend Tom?”
“Do that. I promise to take good care of you.”
Before they hung up they agreed to call each other again soon.
Irene was forced to sit in the room for a while, until the pressure in her pelvis ebbed.
“IT SEEMS as though the first part of the address list is customers but at the end there are several pages with names and addresses of different guys. I found Anders Gunnarsson and Hans Pahliss listed there. They were listed together. Erik Bolin is also there and a lot of other names that I don’t recognize since I haven’t been involved in this investigation,” said Birgitta.
She set down a bundle of papers on Irene’s desk.
“Thanks. I’ll take them home and read them tonight. Krister is working and the girls aren’t home either. It’ll be a perfect time to sit and work,” said Irene.
But she suspected that her concentration would be disturbed by fantasies of what might have happened that night in Copenhagen.
Chapter 16
SVANTE MALM KNOCKED ON the doorjamb before he stepped through the open door. Irene looked up from the pile of printouts from Marcus’s computer. She set down her coffee mug in order to avoid getting stains on the papers. It was the fourth mug of the morning and she was actually starting to wake up.
“Thought I would drop by and bring you up to speed. I missed morning prayers. You need to know about some developments.”
Svante sat in Irene’s visitor’s chair. He declined the offer of coffee. Irene pulled out pen and paper and got ready to take notes.
“My colleague in Copenhagen and I have been exchanging information the last couple of weeks. They have better resources than we do and they can get results a lot faster. Now we think we have enough evidence from the murderer that we can run a DNA profile. And we’ve also found fingerprints.”
“Fantastic! But what kind of evidence? And where were the fingerprints? He used gloves, it seemed.”
“For the most part. But he made a mistake here and there.”
Svante put his right hand up in the air and started counting the mistakes, at the same time he let his fingers point toward the ceiling, one after another.
“One: the semen stain found in Copenhagen under that murdered guy’s bed. Two: saliva from the stamp on the postcard you received. We also got an extra bonus there. Three: there’s a clear thumbprint in the middle of the stamp! You often push with your thumb when you attach a stamp. For some reason he wasn’t wearing gloves then. There’s always the risk that it could belong to the mailman but we’ve just found a new trump card. . . . .”
He paused for effect. Irene discovered that she had scooted forward in her seat and was leaning over the desk, as if she were hard of hearing.
“The videocassette that Hannu brought us yesterday. We could eliminate Jonny’s and Hannu’s fingerprints right away. We found Marcus’s and Emil’s prints on the cover. But there were only two prints on the video itself, Emil’s and that of an unknown. We’ve secured the unknown thumbprint. And it matches perfectly with the thumb on the stamp!”
Irene stared at Svante and exclaimed, “I’ll be damned! He’s been smart, and
had incredible luck, but he hasn’t realized how dangerous a series of small mistakes are, when put together!”
“He has become too arrogant and self-confident. A bit sloppy. If you catch him, we’ll definitely be able to nail him. Even if he denies it.” Svante sounded very pleased.
“You haven’t gotten anything in on Erik Bolin yet?”
“No. Several samples will come from the autopsy today. Stridner’s assistant called. That young girl, what’s her name? Britt! Britt Nilsson called from Pathology and said that they had found a skin scraping under Bolin’s nails. Apparently the body also has injuries that are indicative of a serious struggle.”
Something clicked, but when Irene couldn’t grasp it, she tossed it off as her imagination, and asked instead, “So Erik Bolin fought with his killer?”
“The evidence points to it. But you’ll get a preliminary report today.”
“Probably.”
“The bloodstains on the police uniform in Copenhagen are from Marcus Tosscander but those on the baton turned out to be significantly older. They came from a prostitute who was killed two years ago.”
“Carmen Østergaard! You mean that her blood was still on the baton after two years?”
“Apparently. There were traces of blood in the hole for the leather strap and on the leather itself. Most of the blood had been wiped or rinsed off, but there was still enough for a positive test. According to our colleagues in Copenhagen, it can’t have been used after the murder.”
“Wasn’t there a baton with the other uniform?”
“No.”
“And no signs of bloodstains on that uniform?”
“No.”
“Were the bloodstains on the real uniform or on the one Emil bought in the gay shop?”
“On the one he bought in the shop.”
So Emil hadn’t dared to use his mother’s uniform during the dismemberment itself, maybe out of fear that she might sometime ask to have it back. A thought struck Irene.
The Torso: A Detective Inspector Huss Investigation, Vol. 2 Page 29
