by Anna Jansson
“Did anything similar happen at other times? Do you think Lennie hit Sandra?”
“I don’t know.” Clary rubbed her eyes when she could no longer hold back the tears. “I loved my little sister and I only wished her well. But after that I got a feeling that Lennie gave her an ultimatum: him or the family.”
“And she chose Lennie?”
“Yes. Then he didn’t tell the truth. Lied about little things that were pretty easy to check. He’d been there when there was a traffic accident and saved people before the ambulance arrived, although he wasn’t even in the area. He bragged that he had met celebrities who were touring outside the country at the time. If you told something interesting that happened to you, he’d always been involved in something even bigger or worse, and if you asked follow-up questions he got sore. I wanted something better for Sandra. Truly. I was happy when I heard he moved out and I thought that we could be sisters again, like before. And now she’s dead. It’s so unbelievable. She can’t be dead. She had such a zest for life, so full of life and energy. Do you know how it happened—what happened?” Clary’s body was shaking and she curled up in her chair. Maria felt a sudden tenderness for her.
“Everything indicates that she was strangled.”
“Strangled? Why? Had someone … touched her? I mean, raped her?” Clary had a hard time getting out the words.
“It’s too soon to say. I’m sorry. Do you know whether Sandra knew anyone by the name of Tobias Westberg, a journalist?”
“No.” Clary shook her curly head. “I’ve never heard of him. If Lennie said that you should take it with a grain of salt. He wanted to believe that Sandy was seeing others to have an excuse to fuck around himself. If you’ll pardon the expression. He was like that as soon as he’d had a little to drink. Sandra stopped going out with him. She would rather stay at home than risk watching him make a fool of himself. I was so happy when I heard she’d had enough, that she had dumped him. Finally, and now … I’m so sorry, so sorry.” Then came the tears. It felt liberating in a way. The shaking in her body ebbed out and when she got up to leave after Maria had asked a few more questions she seemed collected anyway.
When Clary Hagg left the room Maria remained sitting at the computer, feeling unable to move. It was as if the grief refused to leave the office, like a paralyzing draft in the air. Thoughts of Emil were there as soon as she did not have to think about other things. With an exertion of will Maria let the phone be; Jonathan was fully occupied as it was and they had promised to phone if Emil got any worse. Maria logged onto the computer. Stared at the screen without seeing while she thought about the information about Lennie, what the neighbor had offered and what the sister had just said. Which was true? Two different pictures. Incompatible. Or is that how complicated we all are, paradoxes, depending on who we’re interacting with? Maria continued typing and searched in the registry of individuals for Tobias Westberg and brought up two candidates of suitable age. One was a journalist. No previous convictions. Perhaps there was some truth in what Lennie had said anyway. Just then Hartman came in and sat down on the chair in front of her with a half-eaten baguette in his hand and cucumber mayonnaise around his mouth. Maria remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She had just not been hungry.
“I’ve spoken with Hakansson. He’s done an initial review of Sandra Hagg’s computer, which was on. She was logged into Outlook. There are a few things worth studying more closely. Yesterday evening she exchanged email with a Hans Moberg, who sells medications over the Internet. They arranged a meeting for that evening. She evidently had migraines and hung the key on a cord that he could reach through the mail slot. It sounded like she was extremely anxious to meet him, even though she was confined to bed with a severe headache. My wife has migraines sometimes and then you can barely have the TV on. No sounds, no light. She would never invite anyone in when she has a headache. You might wonder what was so important. The tone was formal, so it wasn’t a romantic encounter, although there’s no way to know that for sure. It’s clearly urgent to get hold of him as soon as possible. Hans Moberg has a website where he promises his customers endless potency, eternal youth, and remedies for all the ailments in the world. He calls himself Doctor M. Lots of pictures of beautiful young people. Apparently he travels around in a camper selling his wares. It doesn’t sound legal exactly, but we’ll have to check with the prosecutor. Sandra had no alcohol in her system. We have secured fingerprints on the carafe and all I can say is that they aren’t hers.”
“Sandra worked at the health center at Snackgardsbaden. It’s a private health center and luxury clinic. They offer rejuvenation surgery and beauty treatments, and they also have a vaccination clinic. I saw the advertisement in the newspaper today. Only the name is flashy. They also do operations for hip joints and cataracts. I thought we could take a look around over there and talk with Sandra’s co-workers.”
“As far as I can see on the list of Internet contacts, Sandra has had fairly regular email contact with someone with the email address “[email protected],” probably a co-worker. Sandra uses the same domain name when they email each other. It feels a little embarrassing to peek into people’s personal lives like this. The two ladies gossip a bit about men they’ve encountered out in the bars. I didn’t think women … well, used such language.”
“Such language?” Maria could not keep from smiling at Hartman’s bewildered facial expression. “Should there be any difference in men’s and women’s ways of expressing good luck in the hunt, you mean?”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t … write … well, forget about that. Then we’ve got a little more to go on as far as the Varsande man is concerned. In the door-to-door in Klintehamn several people have stated that they had a visit from a painting salesman. A short dark man. In Berit Hoas’s house there was a picture that she reportedly bought from him. There are fingerprints on it, in the paint itself. Our technicians have made a preliminary investigation of the prints. It’s not that easy but Martenson has a particular interest in such things and sees agreement in the prints on several points. Although the final answer may take a week or two. We have a hypothesis to work on in any event. Then we have a witness account from a neighbor in Varsande. He thought he saw someone in the little farm by the historical society building and shouted. A male figure ran toward the smithy and then was gone. When we investigated the area we found that very likely someone had been hiding inside the smithy.
Chapter 23
Maria thought about Emil and could no longer restrain herself. She did not know how many times her cell phone had traveled in and out of her pocket in the past hour. She shouldn’t disturb them, but she would have no peace until she found out how he was doing. She entered the number and got to speak with Nurse Agneta. Emil was sleeping. The fever was the same as before, with a temperature just over 100.
Maria thought the newly built facility by the sea shone like an enormous white piece of seagull shit in the afternoon sun. She looked with disfavor at the pompous entryway and tried to explain to herself what it was that aroused such feelings of antipathy. The injustice in that someone can buy themselves a place before others in the line for healthcare, faster diagnosis, faster treatment. And yet. If you were in that position yourself and had the chance to pay to be rid of pain in your hip and return to work, wouldn’t you do it? Presumably, if you had the money. Who would lose in that? Someone else would get your place in line and you could start paying taxes again. And yet you would hope that the public healthcare system could offer the optimal treatment, that solidarity would somehow find a way.
A showy neon sign on the white-plastered wall above the entry said Vigoris Health Center. To the left, behind the low, newly planted hedge, a swimming pool area could be seen, a Mediterranean-class bathing landscape with a juice bar and lounge chairs and offerings of spa treatment, massage, chi gong, and yoga. To the right a restaurant with Japanese decor and a flower shop with artful and certainly very expensive flower arrangements. Ma
ria Wern could not help being impressed by the reception area’s exclusive furnishings in pink marble and mahogany. The nurse behind the counter wore a light-green suit, white blouse, and scarf, like a flight attendant. Her hair was upswept in a fashionable hairstyle and she wore high-heeled shoes. It was the same with the other nurses. Well-dressed. Soft voices. Gentle, graceful movements. No hurrying. High heels that tripped against the floor. You almost expected the airline pilot to appear in full uniform with wings of gold on his jacket lapel. But he never showed up and the doctors passing by seemed to have completely missed the dress code as they shuffled along in clogs and wrinkled white coats.
Maria asked for Jessika Wide and the receptionist asked them to sit down and wait a moment. After ten long minutes they were guided through the facility to the vaccination department and into a large, light conference room with dark-blue leather armchairs arranged around a table with a smoke-colored glass surface. The first thing Maria was struck by was the strange but undoubtedly expensive art on the walls. Barbed wire and fringed strips of fabric in symbiosis with thick layers of paint applied with a rough brush. It could have been horribly ugly, but somehow it wasn’t. There was something thought out and attractive in the madness. At the desk sat a woman in her mid-fifties. She got up and came toward them. Her entire posture radiated charm and confidence. The ash-blonde hair was cut in a daring style lopsided to the right. The reading glasses were hanging on a chain around her neck and she was dressed in a chalk-stripe black dress with a white scarf around her neck. The thought that this was Jessika Wide who had written the day-after-the-bar email caused Maria to purse her lips to keep from smiling. People are not always the way you think they are at first glance. That the woman standing before them right now would describe men’s rear ends and other merits in the terms they had just seen on the computer was almost absurd.
“Viktoria Hammar, managing director here at Vigoris Health Center.” The boss that is, Maria translated to herself. Why couldn’t she just say that? I’m the boss here at the clinic.
“You’re looking for Jessika Wide. Perhaps I can help out by answering your questions in the meantime. Jessika will soon be done with her shift and then she’s coming here. You’re from the police if I’ve been correctly informed. What’s this about?” Viktoria indicated with a gesture that they were welcome to sit down at the table.
“We have the sad task of reporting that one of your employees, Sandra Hagg, was found dead in her apartment this morning.”
“I heard about it this morning from her sister Clary. It was brave of her sister to do that and considerate of her to think that we would wonder where Sandra had gone. This is simply awful.”
“We would like to ask a few questions.”
“What do you mean? Do you think she was murdered? That someone would have … Why? She didn’t associate in such circles. I mean, when you read about women who are murdered in their apartments there is often drug abuse involved, social misery, and well … You know what I mean,” Viktoria continued unperturbed when she saw Maria’s expression.
“Sandra was a very competent nurse. We are extremely careful when we hire our employees. You have to be, especially when you are doing business in a country like Sweden, with such an inhospitable business climate, where you don’t have the same leeway to replace personnel who prove to be directly unsuitable for work in healthcare.” Viktoria Hammar made a gesture in the air and a discreet figure placed a plate of fruit and several bottles of mineral water in front of them and disappeared. “Sandra has worked with us from the beginning. Before that she was at the hospital for several years, at the infectious disease clinic. We actually wanted someone with broader experience, but Sandra had a very winning way and learned quickly.”
“What kind of work did she do here at the center?” Maria asked.
“We have a policy that everyone should be interchangeable in their functions. That makes the system less vulnerable. All nurses should be able to assist with operations and take care of patients in medical consultation and work with diet and health advising. We see overweight patients for care and treatment and have extremely good results. In the most recent issue of Medical Journal our clinic is mentioned as an example of—”
“What work responsibilities did Sandra have most recently?”
“I can’t tell you that right off, but I can find out during the day. There’s been a lot to do here since my husband, Reine, ended up at Follingbo sanitarium for observation. With the number of doctors we have employed here it’s noticeable when someone is gone. Very noticeable. That’s how it is when you’re a for-profit company that has to deal with competition, while the tax and fee system does everything to suppress the expansion of the operation. You have to work with small margins to remain profitable.”
Hartman made an attempt to interrupt the monologue, but failed. Viktoria raised her voice and talked without pausing. She was used to finishing what she had to say. “I hope that he can return soon. We don’t have the means to pay for his absence and hire someone else in his place. I’ll tell you that socialism is nothing but pure envy. Why should you share with those who don’t do any work? And this fear of bird flu is taking completely unreasonable proportions, which may have repercussions for the business community.”
Maria could no longer keep her comments to herself. Worry for Emil meant that she could not control herself as usual. “Strange that you should say that. I thought that a doctor first and foremost thought about her patients.”
“But exactly.” Viktoria did not seem to understand the difference or hear the criticism at all. “If it had been seen to in good time that there was medication for preventive treatment this never would have needed to happen. That’s the kind of incompetent authorities we pay with our tax money. But here’s Jessika. Come in now and don’t just stand there in the doorway. Come and sit down.”
A red-haired woman around thirty stepped into the room. Her hair was long and pulled together in a loose ponytail. The hairstyle emphasized her heart-shaped face. Her face was made for advertising: it was beautiful and made you think of fitness and red apples.
“We would like to speak with Jessica privately.” Maria saw the dissatisfaction on Viktoria Hammar’s face. Just a slight shift. “In this clinic we have no secrets from each other.” Before the authoritative look Jessika shrank, becoming an obedient schoolgirl who had to apologize to the teacher in order to leave the room.
“That’s how we work,” said Hartman. He didn’t seem to feel any need to explain himself. He expected respect.
They found a bench to sit on behind the restaurant, out of earshot of the serving personnel. That was a request from Viktoria Hammar, who did not want the police to be seen at her facility and make people wonder. Even if they were in plain clothes someone might recognize them and wonder what the police were doing at Vigoris Health Center. Naturally she did not put it that way, but that was the gist of it.
“The decor is truly lovely. It must be enjoyable to work in such new facilities.”
“Yes, and even so they’ve replaced every single doorframe. It was oak before and then Viktoria got the idea that cherry wood was prettier. From one day to the next, just a whim. It was really tough; the workers were all over the place. Thank God it’s finished.”
After a few more genial exchanges, Hartman informed her of Sandra’s death. Jessika cried without covering her face. The big gray eyes filled with tears and swam over. Maria handed her a tissue, but she didn’t dry her face with it. Instead she squeezed the tissue in her hand into a ball.
“Sandra was my best friend here at the clinic. I can’t understand it … I can’t fathom …”
“You socialized a bit in your spare time, if I’ve understood right.” Maria could not keep from looking at Hartman when he asked the question. His face did not reveal anything about the email he’d read. “Do you know whether there was any man in her life? A friend, or someone closer than that?”
“I don’t know, but I think so. I th
ink her relationship with Lennie ended because she fell in love with someone else. It was so obvious. She hardly answered when you talked to her and she slipped away to talk on her cell phone, and when you came anywhere near she ended the call abruptly. It was the same when she was sitting at the computer. When you came in she changed programs. You can’t help but notice things like that. I thought it was good for her. Lennie wasn’t right for a girl like Sandra. They were such a poor match. She was intelligent and well-educated. I think she was embarrassed of him sometimes—he can be pretty dense. He probably felt that. You have to be proud of the person you’re with for it to last in the long run.”
“Do you know who she was in love with?”
“Well.” Jessika inhaled and looked anxious. “I know someone who liked Sandra. But I’m not sure. Maybe I’m wrong; I’m just guessing.”
“It may be of value anyway. Who do you think it was?”
“Reine Hammar was a little weak for her. She got looks from him sometimes that … well, you know what I mean. And he could think of thousands of reasons why he needed to go into her office. Then he dyed his hair black because she said she liked dark men.” Jessika laughed, and the laughter changed into a new crying attack. “He’s the clinical director here and he’s married to the big boss. Good Lord, it won’t come out that I said that, will it? He was at home with Sandra once when I called her. I heard his voice and recognized it. But I don’t think she was particularly interested in him, it was someone else. She didn’t want me to know who. And Reine is who he is … he had an affair with a girl who used to clean here and then there was one of the girls in the restaurant … and then Mimmi in the kitchen said that she saw him out at the bar with a blonde woman. They took a taxi together, presumably to her place. But I don’t know whether that’s true, that’s just what Mimmi said.” Jessica sniffed, dried her eyes and around her nose and sat up straighter.