Liv

by Mikaela Bley

  ‘The police are going to start getting involved, given the murder. Apparently, they want to talk to us because there’ve been conflicts among the youth. Maybe it’ll help. Now, stop fussing about this and focus on your teaching instead. I want top results on all national tests; otherwise, you can start looking for a new job.’ Johan looked at them contentedly. ‘By the way, I need to talk to you, Hanna.’

  ‘To me?’

  ‘Yes, precisely — there isn’t anyone else here named Hanna, is there?’

  She followed him into the principal’s office, even though she mostly wanted to run in the other direction.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said, slapping the cushion beside him on the couch.

  She did as he said, it was easiest that way, but she was nervous about what he was going to bring up.

  ‘You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you, ever since you started working here …’ His eyes wandered over her body and ended up at her cleavage.

  Hanna self-consciously pulled her tunic up a little while Johan placed his hand on her thigh.

  ‘For that reason, I want to be kind now,’ he continued.

  ‘Please remove your hand, Johan. I have a partner, I’m a mother, and I’m your employee.’

  His hand stayed where it was.

  ‘You must know that police are reviewing the surveillance cameras from the school in connection with the murder of the woman in your area.’

  Hanna nodded cautiously.

  ‘They asked for a copy of the file from the day before the murder and the day after, or those were the ones I said I had.’

  ‘Get to the point.’

  ‘Okay, take it easy. I have recordings from several different days, which I looked through to entertain myself, and do you know what I saw?’ He moved his hand a few centimetres up her thigh.

  ‘No.’ She stared straight ahead. The last thing she wanted was to meet his eyes.

  ‘That the same car that was at the scene of the crime, a blue Golf, had been in Stentuna before. Less than a week ago. And I see on the tape that it’s turning towards Solbyn.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, swallowing.

  ‘I see? Is that all you have to say? When I saw that car, I came to remember that, by accident, I happened to be driving past your place last Friday evening and saw that very car parked outside your house.’

  Hanna clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth would crack.

  ‘Or did I see wrong?’

  She stood up abruptly and went over to the door. ‘There must be lots of cars like that. Why don’t you focus on what’s happening with our pupils, instead?’ She turned around and looked at him with disgust. ‘Anyway, it’s not what you think, and you have no right to spy on me.’

  ELLEN

  11.00 A.M.

  ‘Tough’ was the first word that struck Ellen when she saw Carola in the entry to the Modern Museum. Ellen had barely made it there on time. Fortunately, she had snow tyres stored at Örelo, but changing the tyres had taken quite a while.

  Carola was slender but muscular and dressed in a black, fine-weave polo shirt and black trousers, even though it was almost thirty degrees outside. Ellen couldn’t understand how anyone could wear such heavy clothing and noticed sweat on Carola’s forehead. Brown hair. In a kind of pageboy that no one seemed to have been interested in for a long time. In her hands, she was holding two takeaway cups. She handed one to Ellen. ‘Ove said you like your coffee black, yeah?’

  Ellen nodded. ‘What’s this going to cost me?’ she asked with a cautious smile, but regretted her question as she met Carola’s authoritative gaze.

  Ellen tried to pull herself up and figure out the right role, uncertain about how much of an uphill climb this was going to be, and about what Carola actually knew about Ove and Ellen’s previous cooperation. In any event, Carola knew how Ellen liked her coffee, and presumably Ove had told her more than that.

  ‘What you and Ove had between you is your thing. I know that some police and journalists work that way, but that doesn’t mean I like it. The way I see it, it’s important that the media and the police have a good relationship, it benefits us both. Come on, let’s go in,’ she said, starting to walk towards the exhibits.

  Ellen felt caught red-handed and had to jog to keep up with Carola’s pace. The hot coffee splashed up onto her hand, and she had to make an effort to hold back the swear words that instinctively wanted out.

  Carola kept talking. ‘I’ve worked as a police officer for over twenty years — my whole professional life. I’ve been on street patrol and worked as a detective, and the past year I’ve been placed at the media centre. I never get a lunch break, and every day I’m forced to encounter sad life stories and terrible things. Lives that are crushed, evil, and shit. You can’t imagine what I have to experience in this occupation. Then I go home to my three kids. I’m a single mum with a lousy police salary, but I would never take a bribe. I’m not interested in the money you have in your backpack. Do we understand each other?’

  ‘Okay.’

  She doesn’t like me, thought Ellen. But I don’t like her, either, she told herself, attempting to adjust the balance. But it was probably a good thing that they knew where each of them stood. Ellen tried to form a picture of what it must be like for Carola at home with all those kids, and wanted to ask if the children’s father was also a policeman and why they’d separated.

  ‘I’ve been briefed on the Nyköping police’s missteps and I’m going to give you the information you want and hope you’ll make good use of it.’

  They sat down on a bench in one of the exhibition rooms. In front of them was the painting The Dying Dandy. Ellen was pleased with herself that she knew that. It had been Carola’s suggestion to meet at the Modern Museum. Not a bad idea, Ellen realised now, because there wasn’t a person in sight.

  ‘Will Börje Swahn be allowed to continue as preliminary investigation leader?’

  ‘He’s a capable policeman, who got some bad luck.’ Ellen received a stern look from Carola. ‘But what he said was not okay. Sure, there’s always shoptalk, but I don’t think we should accept that kind of talk any more than you do. You have no idea, the types of crude jokes I have to hear every day.’ Now she was smiling. ‘But, I don’t know, working in the police is tough, and sometimes you have to try to lighten things up, and we all have different ways of doing that.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t imagine you journalists are much better?’

  ‘Um, well …’

  ‘Swahn will continue as preliminary investigation leader, but I’m going to relieve him of press issues from now on. First and foremost, I do want to be clear that in my opinion, media and police ought to work more closely, so as to convey a true and accurate picture,’ said Carola.

  ‘I couldn’t agree with you more.’

  ‘But I also have to say that I don’t like how your lot behave, intruding into families’ private lives and ruining our evidence.’

  ‘We report on the news, but we also try to connect events with emotions, and I apologise if you perceive that so negatively.’

  ‘The next thing, then, is that I don’t get how you assess what’s newsworthy. What makes one thing interesting and another not? Some homicides don’t get a word’s mention, and then others are blown into hurricanes.’

  ‘Yes, well, I guess it’s the viewers, in the end, who decide what’s interesting to them.’

  Regardless of what she and Carola thought of each other personally, Ellen could see that this cooperation felt much more serious than what she and Ove had had.

  ‘Can I ask why you’re interested in this particular murder? Do you know how many women are murdered every year in Sweden?’

  ‘In 2013, seventeen died as a result of violence in an intimate relationship.’

  Carola raised her eyebrows.

  Ellen went on. ‘There are many women wh
ose lives are at risk who the general public couldn’t care less about. Relationship cases have become everyday fare, and us journalists have a great responsibility when it comes to reporting on how women are killed in this country.’

  ‘I agree, though I will also say that we don’t yet know if this is a case of domestic violence. At any rate, we don’t need to hide our cooperation. I’m going to give you reasonable information.’

  ‘Okay, but I want to be certain that Börje’s view of Liv is not going to influence the investigation, and I want information before anyone else — exclusive information — otherwise there’s no reason for me to stay quiet about Börje’s so-called shoptalk.’

  ‘Okay, but I want your word that you’re going to do something serious with the information I give you.’

  ‘Of course. I work at TV4, and we don’t deal in sensationalism. Do you know who the father of the child was?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Perhaps he wasn’t aware that he was going to be a father?’

  Carola looked at her. ‘I think he probably knew. In which case, he ought to be missing Liv, or at least wondering where she is.’

  ‘Perhaps they’re no longer together.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a possibility we’re also looking at.’

  ‘If you release Liv’s name and picture, maybe the father will make himself known.’

  ‘We’ve talked about that, but it feels too early so far.’

  Ellen took that to mean that the police didn’t want to have to reveal that they didn’t have any leads to go on. ‘What do Liv’s family say?’

  ‘They had just found out that she was pregnant, expecting a girl, but they hadn’t met the man. There was apparently something particular about him. Maybe he was married. Unclear.’

  ‘Tell me about her family.’

  Carola gave her a suspicious look.

  ‘When I work with Ove, he tells me everything. You have to trust my journalistic ethics — I’m not going to publish information that isn’t of general interest, but I need to have an overall picture in order to be able to make the right assessments about what is news,’ Ellen explained.

  Carola regarded the painting in front of them. ‘This one’s one of my favourites. In my view, it reflects the double nature of life: the constant struggle against death, anxiety, and the sorrows of love. Just think about it — behind all beautiful facades, there’s always something threatening lurking.’

  Ellen nodded, but didn’t really understand what it had to do with the case and hoped that Carola wouldn’t guess her ignorance about The Dying Dandy. She knew the name of the work, but that was it.

  Carola studied Ellen and let her gaze linger a little too long before she continued. ‘Liv Lind had a sister in Stockholm. She doesn’t seem to have had a very good relationship with her parents — they hadn’t seen her in three years. There was clearly some kind of falling-out between them somehow.’

  ‘Why?’

  Carola shrugged. ‘Do you have a good relationship with your parents?’

  Ellen didn’t reply. ‘Was anything missing from the crime scene? Was she robbed?’

  ‘Her handbag, wallet, and keys were there, but not her mobile phone.’

  ‘Have you run a search for it?’

  ‘Of course, but it’s turned off.’

  ‘So you don’t think this is a robbery-murder?’

  ‘We don’t see things that aren’t there. If the handbag was left and there was money in the wallet, it hardly seems likely, but it’s not something we can rule out at the present time.’

  ‘The place is a bit of a strange choice for a murder location, isn’t it?’

  Carola didn’t reply.

  Ellen continued. ‘I’d like to get in contact with Liv’s sister. Do you have her name and number?’

  ‘That wouldn’t be too hard for you to find out yourself, would it?’

  ‘No, but maybe you could put in a good word for me so that she’ll talk to me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come on!’

  Carola shook her head.

  Ellen sighed. ‘What else do you know? Give me something!’

  Carola thought for a moment before she replied. ‘Someone raped her, and sperm has been found.’

  ‘So that means you have DNA from the perpetrator?’

  ‘Yes, but no hits in the crime registry.’ Carola lowered her voice. ‘She was completely bare and exposed by the side of the road. Her dress was pulled up over her head, and she had no underwear on — the perpetrator presumably took them with him.’

  ‘Or else she wasn’t wearing any,’ said Ellen.

  ELLEN

  1.05 P.M.

  The entire editorial team turned their heads towards Ellen as she entered the room. She saw her colleagues from the desk, general writers, online reporters, some people from Financial News, Leif and Agatha from Crime Group — which she was part of — and then a few faces she didn’t recognise. Presumably summer interns. The meeting had started five minutes ago. Jimmy was making a presentation up at the whiteboard, but when he caught sight of her, he stopped talking. Their eyes met, and she felt her cheeks getting hot. Suddenly, she felt shy and didn’t really know where she stood.

  ‘Well now, look at what the fucking cat dragged in. Welcome to “Värmland”,’ Leif said, breaking the silence. ‘Yep, they changed the names of all the conference rooms over summer.’ He grinned.

  ‘Okay,’ said Ellen, looking at the door where, sure enough, it said Värmland. ‘Nice,’ she said, for lack of anything better.

  All the chairs were taken so she remained standing.

  ‘Yeah, we’re part of Sweden now, it’s a whole new era,’ he said.

  The others laughed a little. Leif was known for not liking change. He’d worked in TV for forty years, and if it had been up to him, they would still have been broadcasting in black and white. His whole being resisted any kind of development, but at the same time he wanted to be the wisest, most experienced person on the editorial team. It was a poor fit.

  ‘Nice to see you,’ said Agatha, who was sitting there with her pen at the ready, wearing pink-and-yellow floral-patterned glasses, which actually went some way to smartening up her otherwise dreary look. Her blonde pageboy cut showed half an inch of grey at the roots. She must not have dyed her hair since they’d last seen each other in May, Ellen thought, but then wished she hadn’t noticed it. Such an unnecessary detail.

  ‘How nice to have you back,’ Internet said in his cheerful, drawling northern Swedish dialect. He was one of the few in the room who hadn’t become bitter yet — he was young and was working with the TV of the future.

  The others greeted her coolly.

  Jimmy stood completely silent at the whiteboard on the other side of the table, looking at her.

  He was dressed casually in jeans, T-shirt, and white sneakers, but he still dominated the room. So unassuming, but still entitled. He had no need to take up space, he just did.

  Now, suddenly, she wished she’d worn something other than her short black leather skirt and white top.

  Why wasn’t he saying anything? He was the one who’d asked her to come here. He continued to stare at her with a vacant look. She tried to smile at him, but when she got no response, she turned her eyes away and tried to tell herself that he was obliged to take a professional attitude.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Internet asked. ‘Are you going to start work again?’

  Ellen realised that she was as bad as the others who accepted ‘Internet’ as his name. She shook her head. ‘Soon. We’ll have to see.’

  ‘I think we’ll end the meeting there,’ said Jimmy. ‘Ellen, can you please see me in my office?’

  ELLEN

  1.15 P.M.

  ‘Your office?’ she asked. ‘Just like that?’ She had to jog to keep up with his long
stride and fast pace.

  ‘Yeah. We made a number of changes here over the summer. It’s difficult for me to work without my own office.’ He opened the door and showed her in. ‘You know, with all the reorganisation going on I’ve needed to be able to talk undisturbed.’

  ‘When you fire people?’

  He didn’t reply.

  Jimmy’s room was, in fact, a glass cage in the editorial office that everyone could see into. It was just as minimal as she remembered his desk had been. Nothing personal. Not even a picture of Bianca and Jeanette.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Jimmy sat down in his chair behind the desk and pointed at the chair opposite.

  She sat down. ‘So-so, I guess, but I’m seeing a psychologist, or whatever you’re supposed to call him — he’s some kind of dream interpreter and he deals with alternative treatments. And I’m living at home with my mum, who treats me like a teenager, which is exactly what I become when I’m there.’ She forced out a little laugh, and then was ashamed of how shrill her voice sounded.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘That’s really good.’

  Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity. She made a great effort not to say anything just for its own sake, biting her lip to remind herself to keep her mouth shut.

  After a while, Jimmy leant forward and rested his head in his hands. ‘I’m so sorry, Ellen. About everything. I tried to get hold of you, but you never answered.’

  ‘No, I know. I turned everything off. I don’t know, I guess I ran into the proverbial wall or something.’ She laughed nervously.

  ‘Luckily, between Philip and the HR department I managed to find out that you were alive anyway. I’d hoped I’d get to see you when you were here signing the sick-leave forms at the start of June.’

  Ellen shrugged. She wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

  Again and again, Jimmy’s phone rang, but he just glanced at it and let it ring, which exhilarated her, made her feel prioritised.