by Anna Jansson
“Do you think Harry murdered Linn?” asked Hartman as the corpse in the black body bag passed them on the way to the waiting vehicle.
“What else could one think?” Per thought about it. “Harry might have been up to something illegal, or maybe he had some shameful secret she was in a position to reveal.… I mean, she was a nurse and they can find out a thing or two.… The murder could have happened on impulse. The actual decoration… the display could have been an afterthought. She was dressed as a bride; was that some way of punishing her for being unfaithful to Claes? Was Harry some sort of guardian of morality or was he in love with her and felt she’d turned her nose up at him?” Per could see them before him. Harry had probably been a bit taken with Linn. “Now that I think about it, he often used to wait for her at the mailbox when the mail arrived. He waited until Linn got there so he could have a little chat with her. She was always friendly and gave up her time for him. She may have been the only person who was actually nice to him, and in his lonely condition he could have misinterpreted this as an invitation, or something like that.”
“I agree with you. If Harry came on to her and she turned him away, as Haraldsson was suggesting, might he not have killed her so she wouldn’t humiliate him? But what about the decoration of the corpse? The murderer took his time and planned everything carefully. It’s not something a normal person would do. I don’t believe this is a manslaughter case,” said Hartman.
At last he’d achieved a full command of the situation – exactly what he needed, in order once again to experience that sense of divinity pulsating through his veins. A breakthrough.
Now that he could read their thoughts it was so much easier planning his next move. That guy in Svartsjö Prison who squealed would not live long, he’d make sure of that. Right now there was not an opportunity. But later. He’d have to go into the archives to find and delete that story about the old bastard killed with the lawn mower blade. It would also require a short physical journey. Via their computer systems he could monitor the police investigation more closely than they could ever imagine. What a joke to even consider them of the same human breed as himself. An IQ of 100 can be seen more or less as a mental handicap when compared to his own, which was 148. They didn’t even deserve the right to vote.
CHAPTER 25
MARIA STARTED HER DAY with a workout at the police station gym. She was on her own in there, and it felt good. She took out her anger, frustration, and anxiety on the treadmill. HIV. She had seen the fear in the nurse’s eyes when she was taking the samples of blood. It was given away by the slight shaking of her hand, duplicated in the needle and her anxious eyes, although her voice was calm and confidence-inspiring. Surely sometimes when the patient couldn’t sit still and the needle slipped in a different direction, it must puncture the latex glove; followed by three months of hell waiting for the first test result. Healthcare staff live with that risk every time they take a blood test. Police officers also live with it: the risk of serious injury at work. Maria thought of the children, Emil and Linda. What would happen to them if she became seriously ill, or maybe even passed away? Krister would have to take care of them full time. Krister, who could hardly even take care of himself, like some over-ripe, capricious teenager who constantly needed affirmation and the instant satisfaction of whatever neediness he was going through. If he wanted to go out for the night and sleep with some lady friend, he thought the children should be able to manage on their own – even though Emil was only ten and Linda just seven. He never bothered to help them with homework; that was something for the school to deal with, he said. And if the children had to have packed lunches they had to fix their own. He wasn’t interested in taking care of them, not even when they were ill or there were snags with parents’ evenings or lifts to soccer practice and Emil’s games. Every other week had turned into alternate weekends, and now he was trying to negotiate himself out of that as well. Friday evening to Monday morning had turned into Saturday afternoon to Sunday evening.
Maria hoisted herself up on the iron bars into a position of balance, lowered herself again, and did another lift and then another quickly. If she were infected she’d keep fighting and living as long as she could, she’d struggle all the way, maintaining herself carefully and living but perhaps never again having the nerve to make love. There’s no fool-proof protection, no guarantee against infecting someone. The thought made her feel so dejected – so how would things work out with her and Per? Would he ever dare touch her again?
But if she did prove to be healthy, what did she desire from life? To live with Per? Would he move in with her in the little yellow house on Klinten? Would he want to? It was her home, after all, furnished and arranged the way she wanted it. Where would his children live when they came to stay every other weekend? They’d have to share a room with Emil and Linda and this would immediately lead to conflict. Either that, or she’d have to sell her beloved house so they could buy something bigger, where they’d all have space to live together. What if she sacrificed her house only to find that they couldn’t live together? Every day Maria grew more insecure about whether Per would really wholeheartedly try for a life together. When one thought about it, she and the children were actually doing fine as they were, without anyone else getting involved. Yet things did sometimes get lonely after the children had gone to bed. If Per said he loved her, if he really did love her, no obstacles could stand in their way. They would overcome everything.
Maria tried to do some sit-ups, then finally gave up. She was still in so much pain that her eyes were blacking out. She fetched some dumbbells and continued with her usual routine, while mentally retreating from her private misery and preparing for the day’s work that lay ahead. The day before they had been looking for Harry Molin. Maria had reacted to the flowers growing in his garden. Hyacinths, bleeding hearts, and lilies of the valley. Linn did not have those flowers in her garden, yet Erika had found traces of exactly those flowers on the floor by the bedroom door and on the broom. When Linn Bogren was found on Tempelkullen she’d been holding a bunch of lilies of the valley. Most likely they’d been picked in the Botanical gardens. One could only speculate about their symbolic significance to the murderer. Maria got into the shower, turned on the cold water, and tried to deal with the pain. In a way it counteracted the inner turmoil. As she rubbed herself down she thought about Linus’s father, Ulf, who’d contacted her once again last night, the telephone conversation shifting between reproachful accusations and despairing tears. You must do something! Something must happen! Maria was seriously concerned. They had to find those who’d done it before he did.
Maria poured herself a cup of black coffee and took the stairs up to her office. As she passed Hartman’s door she saw that he’d already arrived and was sitting by his computer. Silently, Maria slid into the chair opposite.
“Did you hear what happened last night?” he said.
“Last night?” Maria gave him a questioning look and Hartman quickly summarized the macabre spectacle in Arvidsson’s house.
“So Harry Molin hanged himself at Per Arvidsson’s place.… You mean our Per Arvidsson? I actually considered opening Harry’s door last night but decided it could wait until today. And now he’s dead?” Maria was deeply shaken. “And Per, how’s he?”
“All right, I think.” Hartman dived into a pile of papers.
“What is it? There’s something you’re not telling me? Come on Tomas, we’ve known each other for a long time and something’s up. Can I see the interview report? This is my investigation as well, you know.”
“Okay.” Reluctantly, Hartman handed over the transcripts of the interview with Per Arvidsson. It was unavoidable. He couldn’t protect either of them. He observed her face with some tension as she read. It would not escape her. He saw her facial expression change from concentration to doubt and consternation once it grew clear to her where Per had spent the night. At Rebecka’s.
“Excuse me a moment. I have to make a call.” Maria
was gone before Hartman had time to react. She dialed Per’s number. No answer. So she had to check with Rebecka, then. The truth. Only the truth would do.
“Rebecka Arvidsson.” Her voice sounded breezy and happy, as if she’d just had a good laugh about something.
“I’m a police officer. Maria Wern. I want to check an alibi from last night.…”
“Per, yes he slept here. Although I don’t know if we got very much sleep, really,” Rebecka tittered. “I think we’ve found a way back to each other. It’s wonderful for the children.”
Maria checked the exact time and automatically, robotically, noted it down on the paper in front of her. This, while the whirring of the ceiling fan seemed to block her ears and press her brain into a hard ball. “Good luck.” Maria’s voice lost its strength, turned into a dry whisper. She hung up and leaned her head into her hands, fighting the tears. If she was going to call Per now she had to be sure her voice wouldn’t crack. Then she felt Hartman’s hand on her shoulder, and she released her self-restraint. Her tears ran down her face.
“You knew. How long have you known?” she asked, once she’d collected herself.
“Since this morning. Per is really beating himself up about it, it was a mistake. He loves you, Maria. I know it.”
“Bullshit! Leave me alone. I’ll come down to the meeting with Erika in fifteen minutes, but right now I want to be on my own!”
Hartman hesitated in the doorway. “Give him another chance, Maria. You love each other, anyone can see that. Listen to what he has to say.”
“No! I’ve had enough. This is quite enough. All the time while he’s been ill I’ve been loyal, I’ve listened. It’s been him and only him all the way. My needs, my hopes haven’t figured at all. I’ve waited, hoping he’d get better. Now when he seems more or less all right, what does he do? It’s over, my sympathy is spent and there’ll never be anything between me and Per again.”
“I hope you’ll still manage to work together.”
“We’ll see. Can you leave me alone!”
Once Hartman had left the room Maria realized how shaky she was feeling. Her fingers trembled as she dialed Per’s telephone number. She had to hear him say it himself, that he’d been unfaithful with his wife… with his wife! The thought of it was almost amusing. The divorce wasn’t finalized yet, but in a moral sense he had deceived her.
“Hi Maria, how are you? You’ve heard what’s happened, haven’t you? Harry Molin was hanging in my living room by a rope round his neck. I cut him down, I didn’t know if he was alive at that point. It was my rope, I’d even made the knot myself, in case I – ”
“When did you find him?” She asked even though she knew the answer. He had to have a chance of explaining himself.
“Now, this morning.”
“In the morning? So you came on the night boat?”
“It’s in the report. I was at Rebecka’s, but it’s not like you think. I love you, Maria. Nothing happened.” His defensive words flew out of him. He didn’t want to lie to Maria; nor did he want to talk about it over the telephone. “Can we meet up… and talk?”
“According to Rebecka something did happen. Don’t lie to me, Per. I’m worth more than that. I want the truth.”
“I was drunk and I ended up in her bed, but it didn’t mean anything. It has nothing to do with us. I love you, Maria.”
“It has everything to do with us. She said you were going to try again, that it was a fresh start. I wish you the very best of luck.”
“We’re not doing that at all. Maria… I’m… sorry. I love you.”
“If you say you love me and this is all it’s worth, then it’s worth nothing. It’s over, Per. I don’t think I can get over this. The best you can do from now on is stay out of my way.”
“Maria… !”
“I mean what I’m saying. Leave me alone.” She wasn’t flaring up, she was speaking in her calmest possible voice. She felt as if she were not in her own body, as if someone else were speaking through her mouth. Her muscles had stiffened, her shoulders were frozen and hoisted up. She could hardly move her arm to hang up.
CHAPTER 26
THE SUMMER WEATHER WAS BACK. The sun came pouring down outside the windows of the police station. Beyond the parking area of Östercentrum was a strip of luminous grass. The swallows emerged from dark cracks in the wall and flitted against the clear blue sky. Erika Lund opened the window to get some air. She’d been working since early dawn. By now she’d received the medical examiner’s preliminary report and the results of various analyses she’d ordered. She was late for the meeting. The others had been waiting a while for her; their murmuring voices died away as she entered the room. The air was like a burial chamber in there, so she threw the window wide open.
“Harry Molin died at about 23:00 hours give or take an hour or so, that’s the preliminary view of the medical examiner. Per Arvidsson has an alibi for that time, because he was on the ferry until 00:15. Obviously this makes things easier for us, because he can stay on active service. Arvidsson found the murdered man just after seven this morning. Harry Molin was hanging from a hook in Arvidsson’s living room. He cut him down and then called emergency services. The rope belonged to Per.”
“The murdered man? So Harry didn’t commit suicide?” This had been Maria’s initial thought when she heard what had happened. It seemed obvious that Harry, for some reason unknown as yet, had taken Linn Bogren’s life and then later also killed himself. She had practically considered it as a case solved.
“There are compelling reasons to believe he was hanged.”
“But a normal hook for a lamp, is that really strong enough to hang yourself?”
Hartman, looking thoughtful, turned to Erika.
“Arvidsson had changed the hook. I asked him about it, and he changed it while he was thinking of killing himself.” Erika looked at her papers so she wouldn’t have to look into Maria’s eyes. It was about Per’s private life. She wanted to protect him but at the same time the truth had to come out. “That’s how bad things were.”
“But how could the murderer know there was a hook there to hang him from?”
“Any signs of struggle?” asked Ek.
“Take it easy, I’ll get there.” Erika gave Ek a sharp glance. She needed to talk without being interrupted, needed space to talk without losing her concentration. “Harry Molin was barefooted when he was found. His heels were grazed, as if someone had dragged his body across rough stones… possibly across the courtyard. The lid of his mailbox was open. Possibly he went out without his dogs to pick up his mail, and that’s when he ran into the murderer. The medical examiner has confirmed he received a powerful but not deadly blow with a blunt instrument across his left temple. No significant internal bleeding, but a contusion by his temporal bone.”
“So he may have been unconscious when he was hanged?” Hartman interjected.
“We don’t know that for sure, but it seems likely. There are no defensive injuries. I don’t think he put up any resistance. We found a cigarette butt by the mailbox. DNA analysis will take a bit of time, but if we’re lucky it’ll match something we already have. It had been raining that evening and we have a footprint, probably from when the murderer put out his cigarette. A part of this shoeprint is on the actual cigarette. We found a big yellow stain on the victim’s shirt, which analysis showed to be urine. If the body had been suspended when he passed urine it would have run downwards and not have ended up at chest height. So we’ll have to assume the body was lying down. Possibly the blow to the head made him lose control of his bladder while he was lying down. There are traces of the victim’s blood by the mailbox but no blood at all on the floor under the hook where he was hanging.”
“I’ll be damned,” said Ek. “I assumed it was suicide.”
“Another find that’s confusing is a mark left in the gravel by the mailbox. A ‘K’. It could be a coincidence, of course, some child who’s just learned the alphabet. I don’t want to draw any
premature conclusions, only draw a parallel to the bedroom where Linn Bogren died. I found a letter ‘K’ etched into the blood on the wallpaper; hardly noticeable.”
Maria suddenly had a thought. “Do you remember that time at your place when we were brainstorming about Roy and Kilroy? Could it be a ‘K’ as in Kilroy?”
“It’s a bit far-fetched but every idea is worth considering. Did anyone manage to get hold of any next of kin?” Hartman turned to Haraldsson and Ek. Haraldsson nodded at Jesper.
“I got a hold of his sister. She seems to be the only family he had. They haven’t seen each other at all in the last few years, only telephone contact and Christmas cards. Apart from membership in a number of patient associations he doesn’t seem to have had any social life at all; just the Internet. There he has a bewildering number of contacts. We took his computer in and I had a quick look through it. All his bookmarks are healthcare-related in some way. It seems to have been his main interest.”
“Or his problem.” Maria felt irritated at them for making light of Harry. He probably lived his life to the best of his ability, given his available opportunities.
“Nothing’s been stolen from Molin’s house as far as we can judge. The computer was left, also the flat-screen TV which seems fairly new, must have cost him ten thousand kronor at least. Even his wallet is on the kitchen bench next to the coffeemaker and the car keys,” Haraldsson continued. “The door was unlocked.”
“The sister told me she found it very strange. Harry would never want to take his own life, she said. Of course, it’s a normal reaction from next of kin. But she did say one important thing: he just had a tailored suit made for himself. It cost more than six thousand kronor, we found the receipt among his bills in the desk drawer. You don’t have a suit made if you’re about to commit suicide, do you? He was planning to wear it on Midsummer’s day at his niece’s wedding.”