Night Rounds

by Helene Tursten

  “Yes, someone did mention the old legend, but I don’t remember who it was or why it came up,” Irene replied before she quickly switched the subject. “What did Mama Bird look like?”

  “I’m not going to tell you any more about her. You already know too much as it is.” He was right, but that would not make it any easier to find this woman. “So you got yours. Time for mine.”

  Irene told him everything about Linda Svensson’s unusual disappearance on the night of Marianne Svärd’s murder. Höök took down notes as if his hand were on fire. Afterward he appeared satisfied.

  “Thanks so much. Now I have to hurry over to your press conference at three. By the way, are they going to make Linda Svensson’s disappearance public?” he asked suspiciously.

  Irene did her best to look innocent. She was happy that her bandages hid most of her face—a little silver lining there. “No idea. Superintendent Andersson will hold the press conference. This morning we were all told not to breathe a word about anything, especially to the media. So bye for now, and thanks.”

  Irene tore out her pages from the notebook and got up quickly. Before too long the glass doors of the newspaper building closed behind her.

  • • •

  AT THE STATION everyone was running full speed before the press conference. She rode the elevator up to her office, deciding she’d hide out there to avoid Kurt Höök. He probably wouldn’t be too pleased with her after the press conference.

  There were two desks in her office, hers and Tommy Persson’s, both of them bare. She took a tape recorder from one of her desk drawers and recorded the dialogue between Kurt Höök and Mama Bird. Her own voice sounded stilted when she read her notes, trying to re-create the conversation word for word. She made several attempts before she was relatively satisfied.

  She sat at her desk for a long time afterward, lost in thought. Mama Bird was crazy, all right, but she’d seen something that night. Who had she really seen? How did she know the story of Nurse Tekla? Where had Mama Bird been standing when she saw this person moving about the hospital grounds? And, most important, who was Mama Bird?

  THE PRESS CONFERENCE proceeded in the usual manner—mild tumult. Andersson confirmed that the night-shift nurse Marianne Svärd had been strangled around midnight on the eleventh of February. The murderer was still unknown. When a reporter asked about the ghost, Andersson snorted so loudly the speakers popped.

  Then Andersson changed the subject to Linda Svensson’s disappearance. It was an unexpected bone tossed to them, and they threw themselves onto it. They scribbled down her particulars, noting that she was last seen wearing a red down coat and brown leather boots with platform soles. Her bicycle was also missing, and it was assumed that she’d ridden it away.

  “It’s a city bike, light green metallic color,” Andersson concluded. Unfortunately, he was still standing too close to the microphone as he said, “What the hell is a ‘city’ bike?”

  Questions from the reporters flew through the air, but Andersson could not add much. Instead he promised another press conference within twenty-four hours.

  Irene watched the clock hit 4:00 P.M. In an hour the detectives would meet again. Before then Irene decided to call home to check in with her twin daughters, who were on winter break. Jenny was happy that one of the girl cousins from Säffle had called. The girls had been invited to join their cousins in Säffle, and from there all four girls would head to the family summer cabin in Sunne, where they planned to go snowboarding in Finnfallet and do some cross-country skiing in Sundsberget. Irene gave them permission to go, even as she thought that this trip seemed rather hastily put together.

  Then she collected her thoughts and wrote her report covering the day’s events. Actually, quite a bit had happened. She’d just finished when it was time to go to the conference room. She took the tape recorder and a new notebook. On the cover she wrote “Löwander” in black ink. She opened to the first page and wrote “pizza” in neat letters.

  ALL OF THEM had written their food orders on the list, and the orders had been called in.

  “Everybody here?” Andersson said to open the meeting. “I see Jonny is missing. I imagine he’ll be here soon. Let’s get going.”

  He took a breath and began to tell them about the morning’s phone call to Marianne Svärd’s parents, who had been extremely upset and shocked. The superintendent felt they’d need a few days before they were questioned again. Both parents agreed they’d never known of any threat to their daughter, nor had she behaved any differently when they’d last seen her over the weekend. That was two days before she’d been killed.

  After that, Andersson summed up his conversation with Yvonne Stridner in Pathology. As he was wrapping up, Jonny appeared in the doorway, one eye covered with a bandage. His right hand was also wrapped up.

  Irene tittered. “Hello. It looks like you’ve met Belker.” she said in her mildest voice.

  Jonny’s flushed face contrasted nicely with his white bandages. He sank down into the nearest chair. “That damned cat jumped on me from the hat rack. I had to go to Mölndal Hospital for treatment. Including a tetanus shot. While I was defending myself from that cat, guess what? A little old lady came into the apartment and what does she say?” Jonny cleared his throat and proclaimed in perfect falsetto, “ ‘Are they being mean to you, little Belker?’ ”

  Everyone around the table burst into laughter.

  “Then she just picked up that tiger, and wouldn’t you know that little devil curled up in her arms and began to purr. She asked me to bring the cat’s feeding dish and water bowl into her apartment, because now she was going to take care of the poor little pussycat.”

  Irene was happy to hear the last bit—both because Belker and Ruth Berg were going to keep each other company and because Linda’s apartment would now be terror-free for the police.

  “Anything new about Linda Svensson?” asked Andersson.

  “I went to Kungsbacka and talked to her parents. She’s an only child. They’re beside themselves with worry. I asked them if her ex had ever hit her, but they didn’t believe he had. According to them he’s not the violent kind. Otherwise nothing new turned up in Linda’s apartment. I searched the area around the apartment building for the bicycle, but I didn’t find it. The building manager lent me a master key, and I looked in the basement, the laundry room, and the garbage room. The building has two stairways, and there are nine apartments on each floor. None of the other inhabitants saw or heard anything around the time Linda disappeared. Well, except the old lady who took in that man-eating beast. She says she heard Linda leave her apartment on the tenth of February at eleven-thirty P.M. Not a trace since. She and the bicycle are just gone.”

  Andersson frowned. He thought for a long time before he finally said, “Jonny, you keep working on finding Linda. Fredrik, too. It feels like time is running out on us. Birgitta, did you reach Linda’s ex?”

  “Yes, but only by phone. He’s taking a seminar in Borås and won’t be back until late tonight. He works for some kind of computer company.”

  “All right. You talk to that young man tomorrow. Take Jonny with you. Try to lean on him to see what he knows.”

  “Okay,” said Birgitta.

  Irene observed that Birgitta did not look at Jonny while she nodded. On the surface she didn’t show any discomfort, just seemed to accept the assignment. But Irene sensed the tension between Jonny and Birgitta, and she wondered why. Of course, all Jonny’s off-color jokes offended some people, but Irene hadn’t been a policewoman seventeen years for nothing. Her instincts told her there was more to it than that.

  “Should we request a reverse search on Linda’s phone?” Birgitta asked.

  “Reverse search?” Andersson echoed.

  “Linda had an ID box on her phone, which, unfortunately, the cat destroyed. But we can ask the telephone company to check who called her phone number on the tenth of February.”

  “Is that possible?” Andersson asked, surprised.
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  “Yes, but it’s not cheap. We have to go through the prosecutor’s office.”

  “Inez Collin,” Andersson said gloomily.

  “That’s right.”

  Andersson sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to Her Highness and arrange it. It sounds like something that won’t happen overnight, though.”

  “I’ve got to leave at seven,” Irene put in. “But I want you to know that there were more than one person attending seminars on the night in question.”

  She quickly explained the gist of her interview with Niklas Alexandersson, that he and Andreas Svärd were living together, and that she planned to interview them together in their home at seven-thirty.

  “I just don’t get that kind of thing at all.” Andersson shook his head. “Two guys living together? And one of them once married to a really cute girl to boot.”

  “A cute girl who’s now dead,” Jonny pointed out.

  “Exactly.” The superintendent thought a moment. “Tommy, go with Irene. It’s better if there are two of you.”

  “Will do.”

  “Fine. The pair of you will take care of our little pansies, ha! Hmmm.” Andersson cut his laughter short when he saw that only Jonny was laughing with him. He quickly turned to Irene. “Was that everything?”

  “No. I went to the GT home office and had a chat with Kurt Höök.” Irene repeated her conversation with the journalist. Everyone else in the room had already read the article, and it had led to speculation about possible leaks. Here was the answer. As the icing on the cake, Irene played the tape she’d made of the conversation with Mama Bird. When she turned off the tape recorder, Jonny snorted.

  “You’re terrible at re-creating conversations. But regardless, that is one crazy old lady. No reason to pay any attention to her.”

  Irene nodded, ignoring his criticism of her dramatic-reenactment skills. “Of course, she’s mentally ill. But listen between the lines. She knows about Nurse Tekla and the story going around the hospital. She may have gotten the wrong date for Tekla’s death, but she knew it was a suicide. And she mentions that the building went dark. She must have been near the hospital when the power went out and the murder took place.”

  Andersson’s face flushed with excitement from cheeks to ears, and he slid forward on his chair. “You’re absolutely right. We have to track down this … Mama Bird. You and Tommy get on it right away tomorrow morning.”

  “Aye-aye.” Irene made a joking salute to her boss, but he’d already turned his attention to Tommy.

  “So what did you do today?”

  “I was supposed to help Birgitta interview Pontus Olofsson, but since he was gone for the day, I decided to help Hans and Fredrik canvass the neighborhood. We went to all the apartment buildings and single-family houses around Löwander Hospital. No one had seen or heard anything on the night in question. One person walking his dog around eleven-thirty P.M. said that the dog went crazy while they were walking through the park behind the hospital. The park there stretches all the way to a stream at its south side. On the west it meets the edge of a forest. That’s where the dog owner was walking his dog. The dog suddenly began to growl in the direction of the grove. The man couldn’t see anyone but felt uncomfortable, so they left right away.”

  If the murderer hid in the grove of trees at the edge of the forest.… If Mama Bird also was in the vicinity.… They would have to find her. But where should they start to look for her? Maybe in the park.…

  Irene’s thoughts were interrupted by her pager.

  “Come get your pizza,” said one of the men from the front desk.

  Irene and Tommy got up to get the food. In the elevator Irene said, “This evening we’re going to talk to Andreas Svärd and Niklas Alexandersson. Then tomorrow morning we’ll have to search for Mama Bird. We’ll have to go to Löwander Hospital and see if there’s anything in the grove, if someone was perhaps waiting there. Perhaps she’s homeless? Höök said she smelled awful.”

  Tommy nodded in agreement. “Seems reasonable.”

  “There’s a lot of pressure on us right now, especially about Linda Svensson’s disappearance.”

  “The two must be connected somehow. Marianne had Linda’s day planner in her pocket.” Tommy was thinking out loud. “And, for a night nurse, no flashlight? Very strange.”

  And worrisome, Irene thought. Very worrisome. Yes indeed, why did Marianne, the night-shift nurse, have Linda’s day planner but no flashlight in her pocket?

  THE POLICE OFFICERS had eaten their pizza and worked out their assignments for the following day when Irene and Tommy headed out to interview Marianne Svärd’s ex-husband.

  Finding the address was not easy. Many of the stone buildings near Linnégatan had been torn down in the 1980s when a changing water table had rotted their support pilings. Architects attempting to re-create a turn-of-the-century atmosphere had not always been successful, but now pleasant pubs, small boutiques, and proximity to the large forest of Slottsskogen had made this area extremely popular. House prices and rents were sky-high.

  They finally located the address; A. SVÄRD and N. ALEXANDERSSON were on the nameplate by the entrance. Irene called on the intercom and heard Niklas’s sour voice. “I’m opening,” he said crossly.

  The front door buzzed and let the police officers into an airy hallway. The light gray marble floor and warm, champagne-colored walls with their iris-blue borders were very attractive. The elevator was the same champagne tone as the walls, so as to not disturb the aesthetics.

  The elevator swished silently to the top floor. Just as Irene was about to press the doorbell, the door was yanked open. The angry twist to Niklas’s mouth took away from his handsomeness. “Is this really necessary?”

  Irene replied mildly, “And a good evening to you, too, sir. Yes, our errand is really necessary, since Marianne has been murdered.”

  Niklas jerked at her last word but said nothing else. He still wore the sour expression as he led them through the entry hall over a rug that was soft underfoot. He motioned them toward a large, cozy living room. The furniture and the artwork gave the room an upscale feeling. A man was sitting on the silver-gray sofa. He stood and offered his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Andreas Svärd.”

  “Hello. I’m Criminal Inspector Irene Huss.”

  “Tommy Persson here. I’m also a criminal inspector.”

  “Welcome. Please sit down.” Andreas Svärd was a pleasant contrast to Niklas. He treated them as welcome guests. As Irene sank into one of the plush leather armchairs, she observed the lawyer before them. Andreas Svärd was six feet tall and slender. He had thick blond hair and a fairly ordinary face. Irene knew he was thirty-three years old, but he appeared younger. He wore a light gray silk shirt, chinos in a darker gray, and a wine-colored lamb’s-wool sweater—casual but obviously expensive. To her surprise, Irene could tell that he’d been crying.

  “I understand why you’re here. This has been a real shock for me … what happened to Marianne, that is. In spite of how our relationship ended, we were actually still close.”

  Andreas Svärd turned his face away. Irene looked at Niklas, who glowered even more. Andreas appeared to be mourning, but Niklas just seemed angry.

  Irene cleared her throat. “When was the last time you saw Marianne?”

  Andreas cast a sidelong glance at Niklas before he answered. “We had lunch two weeks ago.”

  Niklas seemed even angrier, so Irene turned to him. “What about you?”

  “I haven’t seen her since last Christmas,” he growled.

  “How was that?”

  “She came to dinner here.”

  It was obvious that he wasn’t the one who’d invited her. Irene turned back to Andreas. “Did you get together often?”

  “Not that much.”

  “How often?”

  Andreas looked nervously at Niklas but seemed determined to tell the truth. “About once a month.”

  “Why did you meet?”

  The lawyer seemed tr
uly surprised by her question. “We’ve known each other all our lives. We grew up together on the same street. Over the last year, we’d sometimes have lunch together.”

  “At which restaurant did you last have lunch?”

  “The fish restaurant Fiskekrogen.”

  Niklas could not contain himself any longer. Half suppressing a swear word, he swiveled on his heels and stalked from the room. Andreas looked after him thoughtfully but said nothing. It seemed he was willing to tell the truth even if it enraged Niklas. At any rate, now it would be easier to interview Andreas, one-on-one. “Would it be possible for you to come down to the police station tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Sure, but not till after four.”

  “That’ll work for me, too.”

  The police officers stood up and shook hands. Irene noticed Andreas’s hands were unusually small and well formed.

  In the apartment’s hallway they saw no sign of Niklas. Irene did not raise her voice as she said, “Niklas, I need to talk to you.”

  A door opened, and Niklas stuck his head out. “What do you want?”

  “We need to talk to you some more. I would like you to come down to the police station tomorrow. What time can I expect you?”

  “I work until four-thirty. I can’t get there until five, but five-thirty is more likely.”

  Tommy let his eyes wander to the artwork in the hallway. He pointed to a framed poster. “Is that you?”

  Irene turned to look at the poster. Drag Show Fever was written in Gothic letters. A slim, long-legged woman wearing fishnet stockings and impossibly high stilettos climbed a staircase, a black G-string cutting between her two firm buttocks. The back of her sequined top was low, and her long hair flowed over her shoulders. Her head was slightly turned away, but even through the woman’s false eyelashes and makeup, Irene was able to recognize the cool, amber-eyed gaze. Surprised, she turned to Niklas and exclaimed, “It is you!”