Postcard killers

by James Patterson

  "Let it go," Jacob said in her ear.

  He was right beside her, struggling to keep up. He hadn't understood the exchange, but the content and spirit of it were al too clear to him.

  "After this disaster, Duval wil be clutching at straws. In less than ten minutes' time he'l be asking us to interview the Rudolphs," Jacob continued. 108 Dessie took a deep breath and pushed the Eko reporter from her mind.

  It turned out that Jacob was right.

  It took seven minutes.

  Chapter 81

  IT was already afternoon when Malcolm and Sylvia were led separately into the interrogation room where Dessie and Jacob sat waiting for them.

  Sylvia gave a smal squeal of delight when she saw her brother.

  They gave each other an emotional hug before the officers escorting them pul ed them apart.

  Dessie had expected to be nervous before the meeting, but her anger and determination had pushed aside most feelings of that sort. She was quite convinced that the Rudolphs were the Postcard Kil ers.

  Now she and Jacob had to pul the rug out from under them. Somehow.

  But where to begin?

  She studied each of them. They real y were strikingly attractive. Malcolm was trim but also muscular, and in al the right places. Dessie guessed that he must have swal owed a good number of anabolic steroids. Sylvia was extremely thin, but her breasts were plump and round. Silicone, of course.

  The man had much fairer skin and hair than his sister, but they had the same eyes: the same shade of light gray, with long eyelashes that only added to their al ure and magnetism.

  They were clearly overjoyed to see each other again. They settled down side by side on the other side of the table and seemed relaxed and happy to be there.

  Dessie realized immediately that they hadn't recognized her.

  They'd never seen a picture byline of her in the paper, and they evidently hadn't Googled her picture before they sent the postcard to her at Aftonposten.

  Dessie and Jacob let the pair settle in, and they did not introduce themselves. Their expressions were completely neutral and they didn't take the initiative.

  The siblings smiled contentedly and looked around the room. They were considerably more alert now than they had been during their questioning that morning. The change of questioners had evidently livened them up. 109 "So," Sylvia said, "what shal we talk about now?"

  Dessie didn't change her expression.

  "I've got a few questions about your interest in art," she said, and the brother and sister stretched their backs and smiled even more confidently.

  "How nice," Sylvia said. "What are you wondering about? How can we help?"

  "Your attitude toward art and reality," Dessie said. "I'm thinking about the murders in Amsterdam and Berlin, for instance. The kil ers mimicked two real people, Nefertiti and Vincent van Gogh."

  Both Sylvia and Malcolm looked at her, a little wide-eyed. Their contented expressions were replaced by one of watchful interest.

  "I'l explain," Dessie said. "It isn't at al clear that the Egyptian queen Nefertiti was missing her left eye. It's just that the bust of her in the Neues Museum is. Yet you stil took out Karen's and Bil y's eyes. I suppose you chose to imitate the art and not the person, didn't you?"

  Sylvia laughed.

  "This might even be exciting, your theory, this line of questioning," she said, "if it wasn't so crazy and absurd."

  "Do you know how I realized it?" Dessie said. "Lindsay and Jeffrey – you remember them? – the British couple you kil ed in Amsterdam. You cut off their right ears, even though van Gogh cut off his left. But in the painting, his self-portrait, the bandage is on the right-hand side, of course, because he was painting his reflection. So you chose to re-create the artworks, rather than the people themselves."

  "This is obviously going nowhere," Sylvia said. "I thought you were going to ask us some questions that might help catch the kil ers."

  "We are," Jacob said, turning to Malcolm. "Where have you hidden your disguise?"

  Chapter 82

  The siblings remained cool and control ed, but their supercilious attitude had vanished. Dessie noted how they unconsciously leaned closer to each other as the questions suddenly got tougher. They were a very tight-knit team, weren't they?

  Malcolm manufactured a laugh.

  "Disguise? I don't understand…"

  Dessie looked at Jacob. He was clenching his teeth. He was presumably having to strain every muscle to overcome the desire to smash the kil er's head in.

  "The brown wig," Jacob said. "The cap, the sunglasses, the coat you wear 110 when you go around emptying your victims' accounts. The outfit you wore when you pawned Claudia's Omega watch? And that you were wearing when you pretended to kil Nienke and Peter?"

  Malcolm held his arms out, a questioning expression on his face.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "And the eyedrops," Jacob said. "They weren't in your hotel room. So you must have hidden them in the same place as the disguise."

  Malcolm looked over at his sister.

  "Do you understand what he's talking about?"

  "The recording from the Grand Hotel was good," Jacob went on, "but not good enough."

  He turned to Sylvia.

  "It's obvious that you were kissing thin air when you pretended to kiss their cheeks, and that you were faking a conversation. And you forgot about the shadow."

  Sylvia shook her head, but her smile seemed far less certain now.

  "Sorry," she said, "but where are you going with this? I'm completely lost."

  "I'm tel ing you about your mistakes," Jacob said. "I'm talking about the shadow, the one formed when a dead body got in the way of the daylight coming through a window."

  Sylvia's eyes had narrowed and turned quite dark and smal.

  "This is harassment," she said.

  "The statue from Mil esgarden," Dessie said. "The one clearly visible on the floor of the corridor when you opened the door to Peter and Nienke's room.

  That's the shadow he's talking about."

  "We want a lawyer," Sylvia said.

  Chapter 83

  The pair clammed up. they refused to say another word without a lawyer present.

  The interrogation was stopped. The two of them were taken back to their cel s, and Dessie and Jacob headed off to Mats Duval 's office, where the investigating team had gathered.

  Sara Hoglund looked distinctly pleased.

  "That business with the shadow worked very wel," she said.

  "A shame we made it up," Jacob said. "Otherwise we real y would have a case. Anyway, it's a start."

  "Now we just have to hope that they get tangled up in their various lies and explanations," the head of the crime unit said.

  The theme music to the 4:45 Eko news bul etin came over the radio, and Mats Duval turned up the volume.

  The lead story was the "questionable arrest" of the two American art students traveling through Sweden.

  The newsreader's voice sounded stuffy and pompous.

  "According to reports received by Dagens Eko, the suspects have solid alibis for several of the murders in Europe. Video recordings from security cameras in the Grand Hotel show that the Dutch couple were stil alive when the brother and sister left them on Wednesday afternoon…"

  The air in the room had turned to ice.

  Obviously, someone in, or very close to, the investigation had talked to the press.

  No one looked at anyone else. They al just stared straight ahead or down at the table.

  Dessie felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine.

  She was the one whom these detectives would suspect of leaking information. And because it was against the law for the authorities to investigate the media's sources, no one would ask her straight out, but she knew what they were thinking. She was the journalist, the outsider, the one who was the most likely to be disloyal.

  From now on, she wouldn't be welcome here, that much was clear to her.


  The superintendent's face stiffened into a mask that grew more rigid the longer the broadcast went on.

  The chair of the Swedish Bar Association gave a statement, seriously criticizing the fact that "the two American youngsters" hadn't been given a lawyer until late this afternoon, a whole day after they were taken into custody.

  Sara Hoglund was quoted saying in an irritated voice that the investigation was proceeding – a sound bite that was probably taken from the very last minutes of the press conference, when she had already answered the same question umpteen times.

  Then the Dagens Eko bul etin turned its attention to criticism of the media.

  The newsreader's voice was ful of indignation as he trumpeted the next item.

  "In a letter that has received harsh criticism, a newspaper reporter at Aftonposten, Dessie Larsson, attempted to buy an interview with the suspected kil ers.

  "For one hundred thousand dol ars, almost a mil ion kronor, she wanted to secure an exclusive interview with the American youths. The chair of the Journalists Federation, Anita Persson, considers the development a scandal that should be investigated."

  Dessie felt the floor sway beneath her. Her mouth went dry and her pulse was racing.

  "Dessie Larsson has brought shame on the entire profession," Anita Persson said over the radio. "She should be expel ed from the Journalists 112 Federation right away."

  The author and journalist Hugo Bergman was next to be interviewed. He added to the criticism, saying that Dessie Larsson was "a lightweight" and "a useless journalist."

  Everyone in the room turned to look at Dessie.

  Hugo Bergman clearly didn't like being spurned when he had paid for wine and dinner at a fancy restaurant, she thought. It was a hel of a price to pay for mashed potatoes.

  Dessie stood up and went toward the door.

  "I'm not even a member of the Journalists Federation," she said.

  Jacob fol owed her out through the door.

  Chapter 84

  Dessie could see the satellite dishes on the television crews' vans, some of which had come al the way from Gotgatan. What a waste of time, money, and gas.

  The media storm had settled right outside her door, blocking the whole of Urvadersgrand. She stopped, her bicycle beside her, and stared at the crowd.

  Jacob caught up with her and let out a quiet whistle.

  There were unfamiliar figures with huge microphones and col eagues she had met at the Association of Professional Newspapermen, photographers with long lenses, and radio reporters who looked like giant beetles with their broadcast antennas mounted on their backs.

  "Impressive," Jacob said drily. "You must be the hottest date in town."

  "I can't go in there," she said.

  "They'l go home when they get hungry," Jacob said. "Come on, let's go and get something to eat in the meantime."

  They headed toward Mariatorget. The sky was ful of dark clouds; there was rain in the air.

  They stopped at a steak house on Sankt Paulsgatan, where Jacob ordered barbecue ribs and Dessie corn on the cob.

  "Is that al you're having?" Jacob said when the food arrived.

  "I don't think I can even get this down," she said in a quiet voice.

  He looked at her with something in his eyes she hadn't seen before. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was actual y worried about her. 113 "I know you're finding this unpleasant and unfair," he said, "but you should know that you did the right thing. You've probably already prevented some murders."

  She finished her glass of wine and poured some more.

  He put his hand on hers.

  "Dessie," he said, "listen to me, please. Kimmy was kil ed by these monsters, and you're one of the reasons they've been caught. I thank you for that. I owe you my life."

  Chapter 85

  Jacob's hand was dry and warm, burning on her skin. She looked up and met his gaze.

  "You must have loved her very much," Dessie said before she could stop herself.

  He shut his eyes tightly and squeezed her hand. For a few moments she thought he was going to start crying. She felt terrible for making him suffer like this.

  "Yes," he whispered, weaving his fingers through hers. "Yes, I did. It was just her and me…"

  Dessie kept hold of his hand.

  He stared out through the window, seemingly losing himself in his memories.

  She looked at him and wondered what he was thinking.

  "What happened to her mother?"

  "Lucy? Yes, I've often wondered that, too."

  He pul ed back his hand. The air in the restaurant suddenly felt cold on her skin.

  He met her eyes and gave a little smile.

  "I wasn't the one who leaked that stuff to the Dagens Eko," she said.

  "I know that perfectly wel," he said, emptying his glass. "It was Evert Ridderwal."

  She blinked.

  "What makes you say that?"

  "He'l change with the wind," Jacob said. "He doesn't have any principles, he just wants to avoid criticism. That leak was a test. He wanted to see what the media think of the Rudolphs."

  His knee ended up between hers under the table.

  Neither of them changed position.

  "Did you hear who they want as their lawyer?" Dessie said, emptying her second glass of wine. "Andrea Friederichs."

  "And?" Jacob said, fil ing her glass.

  Dessie took a deep sip.

  "She isn't an expert on criminal law. She's a copyright lawyer. Doesn't that seem a bit strange to you?"

  Chapter 86

  The media crowd outside Dessie's front door hadn't gotten any smal er. It actual y seemed bigger. It was starting to resemble the mob that gathers outside courtrooms for notable court cases in New York. Jacob knew al about them. He'd had to fight his way through a phalanx of reporters and microphones on numerous occasions.

  "Okay," she said with a sigh. "I take it they aren't hungry yet. Nobody's leaving."

  She was standing close to Jacob, hiding behind him so as not to be seen from the top of the narrow street.

  He resisted an impulse to push a strand of hair away from her face.

  "I don't know that I want to see myself darting into a doorway in all the papers and newscasts tomorrow," she said in a low voice.

  "No need," he said.

  She looked at him with her big eyes. He took a deep breath before going on.

  "My roommate has gone back to Finland. You can have the lower bunk in my cel on Langholmen. It's not a problem."

  He said it in a light, joking way, careful not to show any feeling. It's not a problem.

  She hesitated a few seconds before answering, her eyes stil on his.

  Then she made up her mind. "Okay," she said and turned her bicycle around.

  It started to rain as they passed the Zinkensdamm metro station, almost halfway to the hostel.

  They started walking quickly. Jacob turned up the col ar of his suede jacket, but the water stil trickled down his back. He shivered in the cold.

  "I can give you a ride if you like," she said. "If you have the guts to get on."

  "On the bike?"

  She nodded. "Of course. Only if you dare."

  He sat on the narrow luggage carrier at the back, holding on to her hips with both hands. She set a good pace, and they flew past a large church with two identical spires. Her thighs moved rhythmical y and methodically. She was 115 strong and obviously in good shape.

  He was suddenly overwhelmed with a memory of Lucy. She had once given him a ride like this in Brooklyn, a hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, before Kimmy, before the drugs and adulthood with al its complications came into the picture and shattered a perfect life for al of them.

  He jumped off as Dessie rol ed into the parking lot in front of the youth hostel.

  "What are the rules?" she asked, taking off her helmet. "Are you al owed lady visitors in your room?"

  "I'm not about to ask for permission or about any rules," Jacob said. "
I'm a big boy now."

  "Are you?"

  He pul ed her to him, her body shaping itself to his. Her hair smel ed fresh, like fruit again. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth through his jacket. She breathed lightly against his neck.

  Then he kissed her.

  She tasted of rain and corn on the cob.

  Chapter 87

  Their clothes ended up in a heap just inside the door of the former prison cel.

  They didn't even make it to the Finn's lower bunk before she drew him to her. They landed on the floor and he slid into her with no resistance, his eyes catching hers.

  He could feel the room starting to spin and had time to think no, no, no, not yet before he came inside her with a hoarse roar.

  He sank down on top of her, hiding his face in her hair.

  Damn, what a failure. Coming after ten seconds. What must she think?

  But she kissed his hair as he lay there panting and trying to pul himself together. Then her hips started to move beneath him.

  At first he thought she wanted to get up, but when he went to move, she took a firm grip on his buttocks and held him to her, held him right there.

  "Relax and go with it," she whispered in his ear as the swaying beneath him started up again. "Stay with me."

  To his surprise he felt himself getting hard again almost immediately.

  He did as she said and al owed himself to be swayed by her rhythmic movements. Her whole body was sucking and pul ing him into her, harder and deeper.

  He noticed he was starting to breathe heavily and join in, his pulse speeding up and throbbing in his head, and when he felt the dizziness come, he stopped and looked into her eyes. Her gaze was completely unfocused. She wasn't far off now.

  "Come here," he said in a gravel y voice, pul ing out of her and lifting her up onto the bed.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Relax and go with it."

  She stretched out on the lower bunk, her legs hard and sinewy, her stomach soft as velvet and her breasts firm and wel shaped. He let his hand glide up along her thighs as he leaned forward to suck one of her nipples.