A Small Indiscretion

by Denise Rudberg

  “Does everyone have their coffee? I’m going to make this short and sweet. We have a returning employee, Marianne Jidhoff, whom some of you know already. For the rest of you, let me tell you that Marianne had been part of this group for a long time, and fortunately I was able to persuade her to return instead of retiring. Marianne will work directly with Alexandra and me. She will have the office where Annelie and Sussi are now. They will move to the office next to the kitchen, nearer Stefan and Lillemor, as they will be assisting them. I’ve asked some staff to come by after lunch to help you transfer your belongings. I do hope, and also expect, that you will make Marianne feel welcome.”

  A voice spoke up, “What about Linda? Is she going to lose her position as a substitute?”

  “Well, unfortunately, we have no funds to pay for her promotion, but I believe she’ll be fine. We need Marianne’s competence and experience on our team.”

  The woman questioning Olle was about thirty-five years old. “And if we need a new temp, will Linda get that job?”

  Olle was definitely uncomfortable. “We’ll have to see. Right now, Marianne has returned and I just hope we all stay healthy so no temps will be needed. Would you like to say anything, Marianne?”

  “No. Thank you. I’m fine.”

  Olle headed away to his office, and Marianne looked around. The woman who’d spoken had blonde, spiky hair; she looked like a remnant from the eighties. She was tall and had an hourglass figure, which was neither fat nor thin, but her hips were a bit too wide and gave her a clumsy look. Her voice was deep for a woman. Her hand was cool when she introduced herself.

  “Annelie Hedin. So you’re going to take Linda’s place.”

  “Linda was a substitute for me during my leave.”

  “Let me introduce Karin. She works mostly for Lillemor. I guess I will now, too. And we have Sussi, who is assigned mostly to Stefan. You know Stefan and Lillemor?”

  Marianne tried to tell from Annelie Hedin’s eyes whether she knew anything about Hans and his lovers—and she decided that she knew everything.

  “I haven’t met Stefan, but I know Lillemor.”

  Annelie’s steady gaze revealed that she did, indeed, know all about that old, sordid story. As she kept speaking, her tone of voice didn’t change. “Ingrid Björk works here, too. She is the Head Administrator. She rose up in the National Prosecutor’s Office, but she’s off today. I believe her grandchildren are being christened.”

  “Well, it seems you are really in the loop about the people here. I hope I can call on you when I need to know about someone.”

  Annelie Hedin didn’t answer but smiled in a way that wasn’t difficult to interpret—she wouldn’t help Marianne at all, come hell or high water.

  “Let’s see, you’ve been gone for how long now?”

  Marianne looked at the three women—Annelie, Karin, and Sussi—and took a deep breath. “I was home caring for my husband. He died just before the summer. Thank you for this nice chat, but I’ve got to get back to work. Olle told me that you are a hardworking group, and I don’t want to disappoint.”

  Annelie, Sussi, and Karin looked at her with great skepticism. As she left, she knew they’d be gossiping about her. She understood. To them she was an interloper. She’d gotten their office and a higher position. All the names and faces she’d been introduced to swirled around in her head. It wouldn’t do to forget anyone. She had to keep her eyes open. There was no room for mistakes.

  She wondered how much they all knew about Hans’s relationship with Olle—how they’d been best friends—or at the very least, extremely close colleagues. Did they know Marianne lived in a large apartment all by herself? In Östermalm, to boot, and in a building she owned outright? That she was wealthy and didn’t need this job to pay her bills could certainly be the reason behind Annelie Hedin’s chilly reception. Poor little Linda, who certainly needed a secure position, was being jettisoned, just so Marianne wouldn’t have to stay at home all day in her robe. Marianne completely understood their doubts. She had difficulty accepting the situation herself.

  CHAPTER 37

  Augustin lifted his glass of mineral water, smiling at Jonas Carlfors. Torsten had situated himself in an armchair somewhat out of the line of fire between the two men in well-tailored suits. He tugged at his gray sweater and hoped his mismatched socks weren’t too obvious. Jonas Carlfors tilted his head to one side, peering at Augustin curiously. “Have we met before?” he asked.

  Augustin took a sip of water before saying, “Yes, I believe we have met a few times.”

  Torsten studied Jonas Carlfors, whose head seemed ready to burst with the effort of trying to place Augustin, but Augustin offered no help. Instead, he went straight to the matter at hand.

  “Why didn’t you mention your relationship with Isa Turin when my colleague was here before?”

  Jonas Carlfors twisted in his seat. He looked away while saying, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean your intimate relationship.”

  Jonas Carlfors swallowed hard and pressed his lips together. His face turned deep red as he pulled at his starched shirt collar.

  “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t think it had anything to do with Christopher’s death.”

  “You never know what’s important.”

  “To be honest, I was afraid. My wife knows nothing about it. I’d be extraordinarily grateful if you kept her out of this.”

  Augustin leaned forward and pulled at the cuff links on his light-blue shirt. “To be honest—just between us—I think the rumor will reach her soon enough.”

  “People are talking about it?”

  “Yes, that’s how we found out. You know how people talk.”

  Augustin leaned back in the sofa and wrapped his hands around a knee. Torsten was amused at this young officer who could change his manner so quickly and never give the impression he was green or unsure of himself. Augustin was in his element.

  Jonas Carlfors’s eyes flashed as he hissed, “So you’re here to interrogate me over a rumor you heard in the city!”

  “Well, no, we’re not interrogating you, per se, but rumors are often helpful in our work. That appears to be the case here, am I right?”

  Jonas Carlfors looked as if he wanted to go after Augustin that minute. Torsten did his best not to smile.

  “We weren’t having the usual fling,” Jonas growled. “Our relationship grew over time. We’ve supported each other when times were rough. It’s not some dirty little affair, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Torsten looked up from his notebook. “Are you going to leave your wife for her?”

  Jonas Carlfors took ten seconds before he replied, “No. That is not possible.”

  Augustin rested an elbow on his knee. “Why not?”

  Jonas Carlfors looked at Augustin with disgust.

  Augustin made a calming gesture. “Take it easy. We’re not here to ask you about all the details. Neither of us thinks you’re behind Christopher’s death. I said as much to Torsten as we were driving here. But what we need to know is what motivated a person to kill him. We’re convinced it is someone he knew. We need to know all about Christopher’s contacts, both at home and at work.”

  “What does this have to do with my relationship to his wife?”

  Augustin changed his tone, as if he were talking to a stubborn five-year-old. “It indicates that their marriage wasn’t that good and that he, in turn, might have someone on the side. We have to know those kinds of things. Did he have another woman?”

  “A while back, but they broke up right before Christmas. I don’t know of anyone since then.”

  “Would he have told you?”

  “He would have earlier, but this past year he kept mostly to himself.”

  “Was that because he found out you were poking his wife?”

  Jonas Carlfor
s realized Augustin was trying to provoke him. His eyes darkened, but he remained calm. “No, our physical relationship began almost two years ago, before he started to draw away from me.”

  “For two years? Tell me again why you haven’t left your wife?”

  “Because she’s sick.”

  Torsten flinched and felt something sour rise up in his throat. Before he could ask a stern question, Jonas Carlfors continued.

  “I know it sounds terrible. But my wife suffers from mental illness. She is a manic-depressive, or bipolar as they call it these days. The illness began when she was pregnant with our first child. Looking back, she might have had it earlier, but not as severely. She’s asked me to leave her, but I can’t. I want to be around our children. They haven’t had an easy life. My wife suffers both from her illness and her medication. We had no intention of having a second child, but we slipped up, so to speak. If I had known her second pregnancy would make her condition even worse, I would have asked her to terminate it. She’s tried to take her own life several times.”

  Augustin and Torsten sat silently, watching a man who—from the outside—seemed to have the perfect life. But he was actually in a miserable situation. Neither of them envied him at all.

  Jonas Carlfors continued, “You can imagine how painful it is for our children. They say they understand that their mother is ill. Since Christopher’s wife is their godmother, she’s often been an extra mother for them. She helped us a great deal, and her own children have also been wonderful. I don’t know how I would have made it through the past years without them. Isa and her children even lived with us at times. You must understand that I never would have done anything to hurt Christopher. I didn’t have time or energy for such a thing. I love his children like my own, and I’d never think of doing anything to hurt them. I know just how hard it is for a child to lose a parent.”

  Torsten noticed a shine in Augustin’s eyes when their eyes met. They were in agreement. Jonas Carlfors had nothing to do with the murder of Christopher Turin. They would have to look elsewhere for his killer.

  CHAPTER 38

  They decided he would come to her place. It was a gamble, but Paula knew that the probability of Jens canceling his business trip to London was small.

  The girls had come home happy after their long weekend in the countryside, talking all evening about their trip. Jens drove them to school early that morning, and Paula explained she would pick them up from gymnastics at five o’clock, as usual. This meant she had the entire day to herself. She invited Passi over for lunch, and he accepted since he had some work in the neighborhood. He also told her he was studying economics, which was why he took so many extra jobs in Djursholm, so close to the university.

  Paula knew it was ridiculous to pour so much emotion into her meeting with Passi, but she couldn’t keep her excitement at bay. Everything he said to her made her feel a resonance in her own body. The more they talked, the more she felt they had a special connection. She didn’t ask him how old he was, and he didn’t ask her, either. At this point, it was completely irrelevant. This was a game, and not knowing was part of the thrill.

  Paula dressed in the torn jeans that gave her figure the right look and a white T-shirt without a bra. Her nipples showed through the thin fabric. Jens had thrown himself at her in a similar outfit early on in their relationship. She hoped she’d have a similar effect on Passi today.

  She made a Caesar salad for lunch and put a bottle of white wine into the refrigerator. A good Chablis—it would calm the nerves. Even if Passi wasn’t nervous, Paula was. She examined herself in the bathroom mirror and hoped he wouldn’t be turned off seeing her in daylight. Her panties were a thong—just some string and a triangle—that she thought made her look sexy.

  Her cell phone beeped at eleven thirty. It was Passi, wondering if he could come a little early.

  Paula forced herself to breathe deeply before answering the gentle knock at the door. He was taller than she remembered, with wider shoulders. She swallowed heavily, smiling as she let him in. He threw his jacket and backpack on the chair by the door and stepped out of his shoes.

  “You’re looking good. You have more style than the usual women at Lotta’s place.”

  Paula laughed and rolled her eyes. She tried to ignore her heart, which was bursting like a rocket inside her chest.

  “Thanks! Do you want anything to drink? A glass of wine? I’ve made a salad.”

  Passi looked around briefly and said, “Sure.”

  Paula opened the refrigerator and took two glasses down from the cupboard. She noticed him following her every move and tried not to let it throw her off-balance. Still, her fingers shook as she pressed the corkscrew’s tip into the soft cork. He smiled at her.

  “Let me.”

  He took the wine bottle from her, opened it, poured the white wine into the glasses, and held one to her.

  “Skål.”

  “Skål.”

  She had just put her wineglass on the counter when he was on her. One of his hands held the back of her neck as his lips pressed onto hers. She could feel that he was already excited, and she couldn’t help a sigh escaping her lips.

  A moment later, they were on the sofa. He’d taken off her jeans and unbuttoned his own. His tongue licked her down to her panties, which he pulled off with one hand. Then he took her thighs into his hands and plunged his tongue deep into her. It felt like he wanted to eat her up. She was so surprised that she couldn’t help coming immediately. She closed her eyes and hoped he hadn’t noticed, while her insides clenched tightly. He kept licking, and his excitement increased as he noticed how wet she was.

  Very soon, she realized she was ready to come again, but she wanted more control. She pulled Passi up to her and took his member into her hands. It tasted salty, and it was so silky. She had to keep herself from biting it! It filled her mouth, and she tried to relax her jaw muscles to fit more of it in. As he panted harder, she stopped. He sighed deeply and threw himself back on the sofa. Paula straddled him and he pulled her down, making her sink all the way in. Her orgasm was more intense than her first one. He needed more, so she rode him until he exploded. Afterward he took her hand, saying, “You’re unbelievable. It’s like you were born to fuck.”

  He smiled and again moved inside her, but slowly. She quietly enjoyed that for a while until she realized he was hard and ready for another round. Paula, who wasn’t counting on a third time, began to heat up as he touched her clitoris in just the right way. Before their tempo increased, he asked her to turn. She sat with her back to him, riding him as hard as he asked while his fingers continued stroking her clitoris. When she finally came the third time, her orgasm was long and slow, almost painful, and he came right along with her.

  CHAPTER 39

  With a sigh, Marianne sat down at her empty desk and set her coffee cup next to the keyboard. The hallway was empty. No one felt comfortable approaching her. She had expected she would need courage getting used to her routines again, and now this, how she was received this morning. It was nothing new under the sun, however—Marianne knew she was the kind of person that was never welcomed with open arms.

  She took a sip of coffee and began to go over Alexandra Baranski’s investigative reports. She skimmed through the first part, which made a case for opening the investigation, and she understood what Alexandra had told her. If this was real, Sweden was in for an enormous political scandal. People in various police departments would be affected. She knew at once that Olle couldn’t be eager to continue this investigation, especially in an election year.

  She lost herself in the reports until lunch, pretending to ignore the moving guys clearing out the room so she could claim it as her office. The room was light and had two large windows. It would be nice to put some flowers on the wide windowsills. Perhaps she’d walk over to Rosendahl during the weekend and pick out a few potted plants.


  She could hear Annelie Hedin bitterly complaining on the phone that being moved out of her office had ruined her entire day. Marianne could tell that she was speaking to someone in her family. Annelie’s ring finger was bare, but Marianne remembered seeing a photo of two children on her desk. Perhaps she was in a long-term relationship. Marianne had removed her own wedding ring and dropped it into her drawer with her underthings. It was a simple gold ring. Nothing her daughters would want to pass on to their children if they ever got married. Lola thought that Marianne ought to melt the ring down for some cute earrings—it would be a waste of the gold to have it just sitting there. Marianne had rejected the idea, but now she was beginning to think the idea wasn’t half bad. She’d been so angry with Hans after his death that she’d contemplated throwing the ring into his coffin just before his cremation. But in the end she changed her mind, and she was glad now. After all, she had paid for that wedding ring herself.

  At noon, Alexandra Baranski stopped by Marianne’s desk and thanked her for the printouts and edit of that afternoon’s final argument. Marianne told her she’d been happy to help and began to think about lunch. She assumed she’d be having it on her own, something she’d often done before she’d gone on leave. Many people ate bag lunches in front of the computer so they could leave work early. Marianne thought she could probably do the same, but not this first day. She hadn’t brought anything with her, so she might as well go out.

  Nobody noticed her leaving. The elevator was full of people eager to get some last rays of sunshine before the weather closed in. When she stepped out on the street, she felt lost. She wandered without a plan, crossing the street to the other side of Bergsgatan and heading toward Pilgatan. To her joy, she saw a pleasant-looking café. She decided to keep to her diet at breakfast and dinner, and this lunch would be a normal meal. It was cool outdoors in the shade, but Marianne reserved a chair outside with her shawl. At the antique cash register, she found platters of baked goods in all shapes and colors. She felt her mouth starting to water. A blackboard described the lunch special: one of two soups with a sandwich on the side. Marianne chose the vegetable soup and a large cheese sandwich. Another blackboard proclaimed that all the food was made in-house and was completely organic. The cinnamon buns gave off a delicious aroma, but Marianne decided to limit her calorie intake to the cheese sandwich, and she hurried to pay to avoid the temptation. Just as she was carrying her tray away from the cashier, someone cleared his throat behind her. It was Torsten Ehn.