Night Rounds

by Helene Tursten

  “Let me take a look. Let’s go to the exam room.”

  Nurse Ellen got up from her chair, and Irene followed her. As they left, Irene shot a glance back at her boss, who looked very ill-tempered. Maybe he was up to something after all.

  The nurse began to pick out the supplies she’d need. Sterile saline, new bandages, skin-friendly adhesive, and tweezers. She chatted as she assembled everything on a trolley.

  “Things are quiet today. Dr. Bünzler has gone to his cabin in Sälen with his children and grandchildren. Konrad Henriksson, our anesthesiologist, has also gone on winter break. So it’s just Sverker Löwander in surgery, and he’s only doing minor operations using local anesthesia in the polyclinic. So there’s not a lot going on.” Nurse Ellen stopped in the middle of the flow of words. Her voice filled with worry. “Is there any news about Linda?”

  “No. Sorry. No trace yet.”

  “The whole thing is unbelievable. First Marianne is murdered, and then Linda disappears.”

  “It’s strange, all right. Did you read yesterday’s newspaper? The woman who claimed to see Nurse Tekla?”

  Nurse Ellen began to carefully remove the bandages from Irene’s face. It still hurt. “Yes. Who would say a thing like that?”

  “There seems to be a homeless woman hanging around. Do you know anything about a homeless woman on the property?”

  She paused to think about what Irene had said. “A homeless woman? There can’t be too many of those. No, I haven’t heard anything. What does she look like?”

  “Short and thin. Wearing a pink knit cap and a man’s coat.”

  “She could be the one I saw at Burnsite.”

  “Burnsite?”

  “That’s what we call it around here. Kind of a joke. There used to be a huge doctor’s mansion close to the hospital. It burned down eleven years ago, and the grounds were made into a parking lot for the employees.”

  “I see. No one wanted to rebuild instead?”

  Nurse Ellen stopped cleaning Irene’s face for a moment and bit her lower lip. For the first time in their conversation, Irene had the feeling that Nurse Ellen was deciding whether or not to tell the truth. Finally she said, “Mrs. Löwander went nuts and said that Carina had set the place on fire.”

  “Isn’t Carina Mrs. Löwander?”

  “She’s Mrs. Löwander Number Two. Barbro was Sverker’s first wife. He and Barbro moved into the mansion one year after old Dr. Löwander died. They were barely settled in the place when Dr. Löwander filed for a divorce. Barbro was totally devastated.”

  “Do they have any children?”

  “Yes, John and Julia. John lives in the States, and Julia’s there this year as an exchange student.”

  “So Barbro stayed in the mansion by herself?”

  “No, she left, and Sverker lived there alone.”

  “Why would Carina set fire to the place if she planned to live there with Sverker?”

  “That’s just it. She didn’t want to live in an old mansion. According to Barbro.”

  “So she decided to burn the place down? That sounds far-fetched.”

  “Yes, everyone else thought so, too. Barbro was unbalanced at the time, so nobody paid much attention to what she said.”

  “So the house burned to the ground?”

  “Yes. Oh, people managed to save a few things, but Carina refused to have them in the new place, so Sverker put them in the attic here.”

  “Are they still here?”

  “Most likely. I saw the suitcases they were in when I went to get the Advent lights last year. That part of the old attic was never renovated. It’s just used for storage.”

  “Was that where Nurse Tekla hanged herself?”

  “Yes.”

  Irene decided to change the subject and go back to Mama Bird.

  “You said that you might have seen the homeless woman near Burnsite?”

  Ellen Karlsson relaxed again. “Yes, about two weeks ago. It was around six in the morning. I’d gotten here extra early. I still had things to finish from the night before. I just caught a glimpse of her underneath a streetlight. Then she disappeared into the park.”

  “You never saw her again?”

  “No.” The nurse cocked her head and inspected Irene’s cleaned wounds. “It’s healing nicely. You will still need one bandage, but the rest can be covered with surgical tape. You’re keeping up with your penicillin, I trust?”

  Irene nodded obediently. “Did you know Dr. Löwander’s first wife, Barbro?”

  “Oh, yes. She was a medical secretary here at the hospital. After the divorce, though, she took a new job at Sahlgren Hospital to avoid Carina. You see, Carina also had a job here.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Physical therapist. Sverker and Carina met here.”

  “But Carina doesn’t work here anymore either, right?”

  “No, she started to work in wellness care instead. She’s leading the fitness program for Corporate Health Services. I’m sure it suits her perfectly. She can hang out with people she likes.”

  There was a sharp tone in that last comment, but just as Irene was about to follow up on it, someone knocked on the door. Ellen Karlsson didn’t have time to speak before the door flew open and Anna-Karin stuck in her head.

  “Hi, I just got a call. The other night nurse has the flu, and Siv Persson is still out. So what do we do now?”

  Nurse Ellen’s soft, friendly face suddenly sagged. Her exhaustion was audible in her voice. “Oh, dear Lord. I have no idea. I’m almost at my limit. I’ve already covered Linda’s shift twice.”

  Anna-Karin thought quickly. “I’ll call Källberg Hospital and see if they have anyone in the pool that can be sent over.”

  The image of a swimming pool filled with nurses flashed through Irene’s mind. Along the edge a desperate group of personnel administrators and exhausted hospital employees were trying to fish for people. Nurse Ellen’s stern voice snapped Irene back to reality.

  “Please excuse me, Irene, I have to run. You can take the tape off on Sunday. Bye, now.”

  The next moment Irene was left alone in the tiny examination room. She got up from the table she’d been sitting on and walked over to the window, which looked out on the park. Right beneath her was the lilac arbor and the garden shed. Although the leaves were gone, it was still hard to see its tarpapered roof. Mama Bird’s nest was well hidden. Irene looked past the park to the heavily visited cluster of evergreen trees. Beyond them she could see a three-story apartment building. She could see a car or two passing by on the road below. The traffic crossed the stream via a narrow bridge, on the other side of which she could make out a streetcar stop. This was probably the route Mama Bird used to get here in the evenings. She came by streetcar from town, got off at the stop, made her way over the bridge and through the park to her nest.

  Maybe they ought to keep watch by the shed and try to wait for her? If they couldn’t find her today, this would be a last resort. Still, it would cost time and resources, and it looked as if the woman had other hideouts as well. What if she didn’t show up several nights in a row? They’d have to check in with the superintendent if they couldn’t find her.

  IRENE FOUND TOMMY PERSSON in a secretary’s room by the reception desk. He was talking on the telephone, the notebook page in front of him scribbled full.

  “By lot? And then how do they find out about it?” He listened to the voice on the other end of the line, rolling his eyes when he spotted Irene. “I see. And what if they have no address? … You can’t? You can’t do anything about it? … I see. Thanks so much.”

  Tommy slammed down the receiver and sighed dejectedly. “This is crazy. There are human beings in our society who officially do not exist. They’ve been administrated out of existence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been calling around to our welfare offices and asking them if they know Mama Bird. They’re helpful at first, but then they want her real name, her personal number a
nd address. Since I can’t answer a single one of those questions, they can’t help me. When I mention that she’s homeless, they turn frosty. Homeless? Can’t help you there. Then they say a polite phrase or two and hang up. I decided to press this last person for more details, like their routines for homeless people. Do you know what they do with them?”

  “No, what?”

  “They pick a part of the city to place them in. By lot.”

  “By lot?”

  “Yep. Mama Bird could have been assigned the social-welfare office in Torslanda, and they would be in charge of her welfare. But how is she supposed to know that? There’s no address to send her the information. Her true address is the garden shed in Löwander Hospital Park. It’s a great system. They raffle responsibility to someone who has never met the homeless person in question. This person is now the homeless person’s caseworker on paper. Society has done its duty and made sure that the homeless person has his or her own caseworker. And the two never meet.”

  Tommy looked at the telephone bitterly, as if it represented the social-welfare offices.

  “I assume there’s no need to bother with the welfare office.”

  Tommy nodded and shrugged. “So it seems. We’ll have to search all the city districts. But I don’t think that’ll lead anywhere.”

  “What should we do, then?”

  “Let’s go try the Salvation Army or the City Mission.”

  “How about lunch?”

  “Okay, lunch first.”

  IT WAS THREE in the afternoon by the time Tommy and Irene got out of the car at the police station. Tommy was to continue calling to find out about Mama Bird. He borrowed Birgitta and Fredrik’s office, since Irene would be hosting her interviews in the office he shared with her. Irene decided to put her report together before Andreas Svärd showed up.

  At exactly 4:00 P.M., Andreas Svärd knocked on Irene’s door. He was dressed as elegantly as he’d been the previous evening. His pale color was underscored by the dark blue overcoat, black pants, and black shoes he wore. As he took off his coat, Irene saw he was wearing a black jacket, a dark blue tie, and a white shirt. Obviously Andreas was dressed in mourning, and his face reflected his sorrow. His eyes were still bloodshot. Irene wondered if he’d had a fight with Niklas about his lunch outings with his ex-wife.

  “Have you learned anything new?” Andreas asked directly.

  “No, but we have a possible witness.”

  “The one mentioned in the paper?”

  “Yes, among others.”

  Irene was purposely vague. It was obvious that Andreas Svärd was affected by the murder, but he could also be afraid of what the police would find. She decided to feel him out.

  “How did you and Niklas start your relationship?”

  “Is this of any importance?”

  “Absolutely. It seems to be what motivated Marianne to leave Östra Hospital for Löwander.”

  Andreas sighed, resigned. “We had an open-house party, Marianne and I. We’d bought a house in Hovås, and she was so … happy.” His voice turned raspy. “We’d never had many people over, and we certainly didn’t have large parties. But now we had the space, and Marianne thought that for once we should have a really huge party. We invited all our friends and co-workers. Of course, Marianne invited Niklas. So that’s how we … got to meet.”

  “Had you had any homosexual relationships prior to meeting Niklas?”

  Andreas started. “No.”

  “When did Marianne find out about this one?”

  “A half year later. Things happened the way they always do. Everyone knew about it but her. I tried to break off things with Niklas, but I just couldn’t.…” He fell silent and swallowed with a gulp.

  “How’d she take it?”

  “She took it hard.”

  They sat silent until Andreas was ready to continue.

  “She couldn’t stand seeing Niklas every day at work, so she decided to find another job.”

  “When did you and she start meeting again?”

  “Except for the first six months after the divorce, we saw each other all the time. When my father had his sixtieth birthday, we invited Marianne and her parents. Our parents had been friends all their lives, and they’re also next-door neighbors. Marianne and I started to talk, and she was so … good. She didn’t blame me a bit.”

  “Was Niklas also invited to the birthday party?”

  “No.”

  “How did he react?”

  Andreas sighed heavily. “He has a real temper. It’s always difficult.”

  “Your relatives have never met him?”

  “No.”

  “And how did Marianne and Niklas get along?”

  “Obviously not at all.” Andreas gave Irene a tired smile. “Marianne tried to have a neutral relationship, but Niklas … he just kept getting angry.”

  “Why did you and Marianne decide to start meeting for lunch?”

  Andreas closed his eyes and didn’t answer for a while. “We’ve known each other a long time. Our relationship is very special. There was a great deal between us that just couldn’t be erased.”

  “Did you only meet at restaurants? You never went to Marianne’s place?”

  Andreas understood right away what she was indicating. “We only met to talk and eat,” he answered sharply.

  Irene tried to form her next question as tactfully as possible. “Did it ever seem that Marianne would have wanted to reenter a sexual relationship?”

  “No.” His answer was short and swift, but he did not look at Irene when he answered. His fingers moved over his pant legs, and he started to pick at invisible lint.

  Irene decided to widen the question. “She never talked about meeting another man?”

  He looked up at her in surprise. Obviously the thought had never crossed his mind. “No. Never.”

  “Do you remember the last time you saw her?”

  He bent down and snapped open his slender briefcase, which was made of soft brown leather. “I checked my calendar this morning. Tuesday, January twenty-eighth.”

  “And that was when you ate at the Fiskekrogen restaurant?”

  “Yes.”

  “It seems Niklas did not know that the two of you got together so often.”

  “No. I told him that we got together now and then, just in case we were ever seen together. I was forced to let him know it did happen.”

  “But not how often.”

  “No.”

  Here was something Irene could set her finger on, but she did not know how to pursue it. This was a classic triangle: ex-wife, new lover, and the man they both wanted. Was Andreas Svärd ambivalent about his feelings? This was an angle of approach that Irene had to try. Neutrally, she asked, “How would you have reacted if Marianne had told you she’d met a new man? Maybe that she’d even stop meeting you for lunch?”

  “I actually hoped she would. But at the same time … I needed her.”

  “Why?”

  “Together we had a sense of belonging and … peace.”

  “You didn’t have that with Niklas?”

  “We have something else. Passion.”

  “Which you also can’t be without.”

  It was not a question but a statement. Andreas just shook his head slightly in response.

  “Do you have any idea what might have happened the night Marianne was killed?”

  Andreas shook his head again.

  “You were in Copenhagen, and we have checked your alibi. Do you know where Niklas was that night?”

  “Niklas? I assume he was home sleeping. He’s the head of his department, and he has to get up early every morning.”

  Irene decided to finish up. Andreas looked as if he couldn’t slump any further into his chair.

  They made their good-byes, and Irene reassured him that she would contact him the minute anything turned up. Andreas Svärd slipped his elegant coat back on and stepped into the hallway. Quietly, Irene shut the door behind him.

  S
HE SAT FOR a long time staring at the worn veneer of her office door. Her tired thoughts revolved around all the information she’d received, but nothing useful turned up. She suddenly had the urge to go home, although she knew there’d be no decent meal on the table and no one would be home to greet her. Krister worked until midnight every Thursday, and the twins were up in Värmland province enjoying their winter vacation. It would be just Sammie tonight.

  Sammie! She’d forgotten no one was around to pick him up from doggie day care. She leaped from her chair and snatched the phone.

  The voice of her doggie day care’s mama was tired, but once Irene promised to pay double overtime, she agreed to keep Sammie until seven that evening. Not one minute longer, though, since she and a neighbor were going to bingo. Irene promised to be there on time.

  Just as she placed the receiver back in the cradle, a hard knock sounded on her door and Niklas Alexandersson’s tanned face appeared in the doorframe.

  “Hi, I’m here early.”

  His smile was blinding white. He surveyed her with his amber eyes.

  “Come on in and sit down.” Irene gestured at the visitor’s chair.

  Niklas slid smoothly into it. He was wearing a honey-colored heavy cotton shirt and nougat-brown chinos. His body seemed bathed in golden light, as if the entire man were gilded. No one could expect mourning for Marianne from Niklas. He watched Irene quietly and waited for her first question.

  “Yesterday when I talked to you at the hospital, I gathered you found Marianne somewhat irritating.”

  Niklas replied by rolling his eyes heavenward.

  Irene said sharply, “Did I misunderstand you?”

  Niklas stopped his theatrics and said shortly, “Yes.”

  “Well?”

  “You’re wrong. I did not find her somewhat irritating. I found her totally irritating.”

  “How so?”

  “Everything about her was an irritation. She hovered over Andreas and even his relatives in Kungälv. ‘Patient, understanding little Marianne.’ ”

  “What do you mean when you say ‘hovered over’?”

  “She didn’t accept that their marriage was finished. She got both her parents and Andreas’s parents on her side. They’ve never accepted our relationship. She wanted him back.”