A Small Indiscretion

by Denise Rudberg

  “So, did you hang out together outside of work?”

  “No, we didn’t. Sometimes we walked together to the train, but she lived in Näsbypark, so we usually went off in opposite directions. And she rode her bike most of the time.”

  “So she’d bike the whole way home? Even in autumn?”

  “Yes, well, it’s not far.”

  “Did she take her bike yesterday?”

  Josefine said that she had. Torsten glanced at Augustin.

  “Do you know if she biked home, or if she maybe left her bike at work?”

  “No idea. My shift ended at three, and she was closing.”

  Torsten looked at her seriously and said, “Were there any customers who acted odd? Anyone waiting for Ellen? Maybe someone unpleasant?”

  “No, not that I know. Sometimes customers are difficult or angry…but…well, not so they’d want to murder anybody.”

  “Can you tell me more about any difficult or angry customers?”

  “I just mean customers who just complain about their coffee. If it’s too cold. Or someone ordered a cake in advance and it wasn’t perfect. But, wait—there was one young guy who acted angry with Ellen. He came this week and he seemed mad at me, too. He was cute—but kind of strange.”

  “Can you remember what he looked like?”

  “Not really. He was a bit taller than me. I’m five-seven. He had dark-blond hair, a little on the long side. Not long enough to put it in a ponytail or anything, but kind of behind his ears.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “A gray jacket with one of those racing-car decals. Dark jeans, kind of on the expensive side. He was a little snobby.”

  “Was he from Djursholm?”

  “No idea. Yes, he was odd, but he didn’t look the type to murder someone.”

  “But you noticed him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you often notice your customers?”

  Josefine shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “Why him? Did you see him earlier?”

  The girl thought deeply, and her red, swollen eyes blinked a few times.

  “I don’t know. No—I hadn’t seen him before.”

  Smiling, Torsten stood up and held out his hand.

  “Thank you very much, Josefine. You’ve been a great help.”

  She looked at them in surprise. “Is that all? I thought we’d be talking for hours. And you’d have hot lights and stuff like that.”

  “You’re thinking of interrogations. No, we just wanted to ask you a few questions. We don’t need lights for that.”

  He smiled and hoped her mother would be there soon. He thought the girl could use a shoulder to cry on.

  Once they were back on the street, the rain started up. Twilight had come.

  Augustin started the car. “So, should we start with the missing bike?”

  “Yep. I’ll call our guys and tell them to start looking for it. And then we need to look into this odd customer.”

  “But then the connection to Turin is broken.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. The devil’s in the details. Rest assured, we’ll find the connection. I feel that this case is about to break.”

  “We have to find that guy.”

  “We’ll knock on doors from the list Marianne gave us, just as we planned. Also, we should send the girl to one of our artists. I’ll ask Anki to arrange it. We’ve had a lucky break. I believe Josefine noticed him because he was attractive. A teenager noticing someone can be a good witness—they are good at spotting details. So, what should we do now? Who is the first person on Jidhoff’s list?”

  “A woman on Ysätervägen. Let’s hope she’s home.”

  “Of course she’s home. The women around here don’t go to work. They congregate in pleated skirts at soccer games to cheer on their spoiled kids. That is, when they’re not busy getting their nails done.”

  Augustin laughed. “I think you have a few stereotypes of your own. But you’ve got a point. I’ve read somewhere that Djursholm has more housewives than any other city in all of Sweden.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

  Augustin’s cell phone rang. “Madrid here. Hey, dude, what’s up?”

  Torsten smiled. Augustin’s speaking style had abruptly changed. He could fit into any neighborhood in Stockholm. Torsten understood exactly what Augustin meant when he’d said his strength as a police officer was fitting in. Torsten took a moment to check his own messages and saw that Katrin had left one. She was trying to sound neutral and relaxed, but she didn’t fool him. It must be about Noah. But he had no desire to call her back. He needed more mental fortitude for the task at hand.

  CHAPTER 68

  With Torsten and Augustin finally gone, Marianne sat down on the sofa. She spread a throw over her legs and picked up the printouts to read through. She thought deeply about the case but found she wasn’t getting anywhere. She dozed off with the reports woven into her dreams. Hans appeared, as if still alive. He looked at her judgmentally and said she’d been sloppy with the facts. He yelled at her to look more carefully, and she woke up in a cold sweat.

  She decided to take another shower and then thought a bath might be more pleasant. She took the reports with her. She had to laugh at realizing she obeyed Hans’s commands even after his death. She pored over the papers again, frowning. She knew she was missing something. Something among the lines of text. It was like a Sudoku puzzle—sometimes it was better to put it away and come back to it after her subconscious mind had a chance to work on it.

  She let the water drain out and took a quick cold shower to wake up. She had forty minutes to get ready. She thought she’d wear the black dress she’d bought for the funeral. It was the only dressy piece she had that wouldn’t make her look frumpy, although people might think she was still in mourning for her late husband.

  As she slid her fingers through her new nylon stockings, doing her best not to create a run, she realized that it would have been a good idea to shave her legs. Good Lord. The hair on her legs stuck out like that of a wild boar. No time now. She’d try to remember to do that before the next party.

  She’d have to put razors on her shopping list, as she didn’t even have any in the house. Hans had always used an electric razor, so she knew she wouldn’t find any of her razors with his things. That’s when she realized it was time to start sorting through his belongings. She couldn’t put it off forever. She longed to know what home would look like shorn of Hans—yet she worried about it, too. Would she even notice a difference? She would ask Sigrid for help. Nina had offered, but she didn’t think that was a good idea. Nina was welcome, though, to come by and choose any of her father’s things she wanted. Sigrid had said she wanted just one item: Hans’s father’s old bear gun. She had no desire for anything else. If it were up to Marianne, everything would be thrown in the trash.

  Her dress was hanging, pressed and ready, still in the plastic bag from the dry cleaner’s. This time, she could pull up the back zipper without too many acrobatics. It bothered her that designers made clothes without considering how people were supposed to put them on by themselves. Not everyone had someone around to help zip up a zipper. She thought she should point this out to Sigrid at the next opportunity, although Sigrid would probably just laugh and tell her to worry about more important things.

  She found some powder and rouge in the back of the medicine cabinet and fought to bring life to her pale face. When she finally put on a few dabs of mascara, she had to admit, she looked more than passable—and, in fact, she looked quite nice.

  She wrapped her gray shawl around her shoulders and hoped she wouldn’t get too warm in it. She’d set her attractive shoes by the door so she wouldn’t forget and wear something more comfortable instead. It wouldn’t do to appear at Lola’s event in everyday flats.

  At five
minutes before seven, she was ready to go. It was her first party since becoming a widow. She wondered how it would feel. Would people treat her differently? In earlier days, the recently widowed used to stay isolated so others wouldn’t be confronted by their grief. Marianne made sure her purse had everything she needed. She was just about to call for a taxi when she realized she didn’t have a gift for Lola. In her eagerness to make herself presentable, she’d completely forgotten. People didn’t come to Lola’s empty-handed. It would be like going into Saint Peter’s Cathedral without an offering.

  “Hi, it’s me. Are you home?”

  “No, I’m in the studio looking for a measuring rod,” Sigrid replied. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Lola’s dinner party?”

  “Soon. And it looks like I’ve forgotten to find a present. Do you have anything I could take? It can’t be a bottle of alcohol, or Lola will complain I’ve been lazy. She hates getting a bottle of wine for a dinner party.”

  “I have some scarves that might work. Emilia started sewing them when she didn’t have anything else to do. Come down and see if one of them will do. And don’t tell me you’re wearing the dress from the funeral.”

  “Yes, I am. It works just fine. It’s somber, and has the greatest chance of letting me go unnoticed. To tell the truth, it’s the only dress that fits.”

  Sigrid sighed. “Mamma, you should have said something. Your daughter is a seamstress. It reflects on her when you dress badly! People will think it’s my fault! If you’d only told me, I would have made something for you. Something simple but elegant.”

  “It’s no use talking about that now. This will do for tonight. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Marianne looked at herself in the mirror. She inspected the black dress closely. It didn’t look as bad as Sigrid made it out to be. In spite of Sigrid’s protests, the black fit her mood. She wouldn’t be more comfortable in a splashy, colorful dress. The idea of mourning wasn’t that bad, in fact.

  Marianne slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes, draped her black trench coat over her arm, and held her purse in her other hand. She headed downstairs to Sigrid’s studio. When Sigrid opened the door, her eyes widened. “Mamma! You look awesome!”

  “Awesome is not a word one uses to describe one’s mother.”

  “Oh, come on, turn around, and let me take a good look at you.”

  “I’m not a champion dog at Westminster!”

  “Go ahead and turn around! I take back what I said about your funeral dress. It looks really good on you.”

  Marianne swirled around.

  “I have to take a picture and send it to Nina.”

  “No you won’t. No pictures! Where are the scarves?”

  Sigrid smiled at her mother and pointed to a countertop boasting a large pile of multicolored scarves with the neatest lace trim. They were fairly large once they were opened.

  Sigrid pulled out the top one. “I think this purple with the lime-green lace edging would fit Lola. It complements her darker coloring.”

  “It’ll be perfect, and I promise I won’t take credit,” Marianne said. “I’ll tell Lola you chose it. They’re all really beautiful.”

  Then, Marianne picked up a pretty turquoise one with light-pink trim and a beautiful embroidered flower.

  “Emilia is making a collection of these scarves in all kinds of colors and sizes. They’re becoming fairly successful, and now she’s working on a variation with pearl trim. I think they’re unbelievable. Wait a second. I’ll find a box for you.”

  Sigrid returned with a box in the same purple shade as the scarf. It already had a silver ribbon tied onto it. Marianne thanked her and said, “At least Lola won’t accuse me of being lazy. She’s going to love it.”

  Marianne looked into her purse for her cell phone and called the number for Taxi Stockholm.

  “Mamma!”

  Marianne turned to look at Sigrid, and a flash went off on Sigrid’s phone.

  “Oh, no you don’t! Delete that picture at once!”

  Sigrid danced out of reach toward the window, eagerly clicking buttons. “Sorry, it’s already sent! That’s the least you can do after I did this for you! Not to mention the hairdresser! I saved you from Lola’s scolding!”

  She gestured toward the purple box.

  Marianne sighed and extended her arms. “Sorry, I know how much you do for me! I am going to make sure I pay you back somehow! But, please, don’t send the photo to Nina!”

  “Already done. Why are you so difficult? I get to see how great you look! Shouldn’t Nina?”

  “Nina is different. She always takes things the wrong way.”

  “So you think she’ll consider you a bad person because you’re going out and enjoying yourself even though Pappa is dead?”

  Marianne pressed her lips together. “Something like that. Everything that has to do with Pappa is a sensitive issue for Nina. You know that.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating. She’s been worried about you lately.”

  Marianne smiled. She knew that Sigrid was wrong. Still, she drew her close and gave her a long hug and a kiss on her soft cheek.

  “Thank you, my dearest, dearest Sigrid. Thank you for everything!”

  With a deep sigh, she forced away her worries about her children. They were grown, responsible adults. She should trust them to take care of themselves and ask her for help if they needed it. But that was easier said than done.

  Once in the taxi, she rolled down the window. She felt a bit overheated from her conversation.

  “I would like to go to Skeppsholmen, please. The old bathhouse right below the Modern Museum.”

  The taxi driver started down Riddargatan and turned onto Narvavägen. He took a left at the Royal Dramatic Theater and then went past Blasieholmen and Hovslagargatan. As they passed the National Museum, Marianne noticed a young couple standing on the entrance stairs. They were kissing. The young man held the woman around her waist, and she was running her hands through his hair. A small sigh escaped Marianne. How long had it been since she’d kissed someone in public? Well over thirty years. She hardly remembered the feeling. Her time was over. She would have to hope for a bundle of grandchildren to love. She should take on the same hobbies as other women her age: making handicrafts, or tending roses.

  The taxi shook as it drove over the wooden planks of Skeppsholm Bridge. Twilight was coming. A cool breeze started to blow through the taxi window. On the hill behind the Modern Museum, outdoor candles had been set out, and Marianne smiled. Lola was an extraordinary hostess.

  CHAPTER 69

  The girls were laughing at something on television when Paula woke up. She could hardly keep her eyes open, although it wasn’t even eight p.m. She realized she hadn’t slept more than three hours during the past twenty-four. If that. The girls had been thrilled to have pizza, and dessert in the middle of the week had put them into seventh heaven.

  Paula’s cell phone rang. She reached for it, still half asleep, and saw it was Jens.

  “So, did you take in the car?”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “What do you mean, you didn’t have time? I told you to do it! I booked it at the repair shop!”

  “I know, but it didn’t happen. And I didn’t buy groceries, either. I’m sure you find that distressing, too.”

  There was silence on the other end. A few moments later, Jens’s voice returned. “What is the matter with you? What are you up to?”

  Paula looked over at the girls. Her heart pounded against her chest, but before she could say anything, Jens continued.

  “We won’t argue about your shortcomings. It’s beneath both of us. But in the future, I need you to do as I say. It’s not like you have a busy schedule or anything!”

  Paula sighed and walked to the kitchen. “It’s not that. We’ll talk about it when you get home.” />
  “I’ll be home in an hour.”

  “Good. Bring some milk and bread with you so the girls have something for breakfast.”

  Jens hung up without replying. Paula took a deep breath and knew that it would all come to a head tonight. She had no choice. Things couldn’t go on like this. She teared up as she watched her girls sitting together, sharing a blanket, happily unaware that their world would soon fall apart.

  CHAPTER 70

  Marianne drew her coat around her as she walked carefully to the entrance of Lola’s house. She glanced at her watch to decide if there was time for a Davidoff cigarette, but it was already quite late. Her cell phone rang.

  “Hello, Mamma. Nina here.”

  “Hello, sweetie! How are you?”

  Marianne’s stomach knotted. She wasn’t ready for an argument with her daughter.

  “I’m fine. Just wanted to say you’re looking fantastic!”

  “What?”

  “I saw the picture Sigrid sent.”

  Marianne swallowed with relief. There was no accusing tone in Nina’s voice.

  “Thanks,” she said. “It was about time I did something about my hair.”

  “It looks really good. Are you going out tonight?”

  “I’m invited to Lola’s for dinner. But I’m in no hurry. We can chat for a minute.”

  “I just wanted to tell you that you looked great.”

  Marianne wrinkled her brow. There was something off—something wasn’t as it should be.

  “Where are you? I thought you and Robert were going away for the week.”

  “We’re out at Svartsö Manor Bed and Breakfast. But we’re coming home soon. Robert said he had a meeting early tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I thought you two were going to rest up all week there. Take time to be a couple.”

  “Yes, but our plans changed. We just had dinner out in the archipelago instead. I really just wanted to say hi. I love you.”