Postcard killers

Chapter 94

The Rudolphs' message to the world was crystal clear: a miscarriage of justice had narrowly been avoided today.

This was repeated time after time during the forty-five-minute live broadcast.

The emcee for the performance was Andrea Friederichs, and Dessie had to admit that she performed her duties with aplomb.

She said that thanks to the civic-minded courage of Prosecutor Evert Ridderwal, these innocent young people had been spared yet another day of stressful interrogation, and another night in a Swedish prison cel.

Obviously, the Rudolph siblings had nothing to do with the Postcard Kil ers.

The very idea was preposterous.

The lawyer systematical y went through al the points that proved they were innocent. She reeled them off from memory, no notes:

They were in Madrid when the kil ings took place in Athens.

They were in the south of Spain at the time of the Salzburg murders.

They were buying theater tickets when the murders in Berlin were carried out.

The Dutch couple, Nienke van Mourik and Peter Visser, were clearly stil alive when the Rudolphs left their hotel room.

The Swedish police had arrested and held them because they were looking at art.

"I have never seen such an extreme case of high-handed policing," Andrea 125 Friederichs said.

Dessie looked around the room, noting her col eagues' sympathetic demeanors. They clearly shared the lawyer's righteous indignation.

Maybe she was wrong?

Had she let herself be misled by Jacob, a man who clearly wasn't able to be objective in this case? How could he be? He had lost a daughter.

Were the Rudolphs innocent?

She swal owed nervously and was forced to consider the possibility.

Then it was the siblings' turn to speak for themselves. Malcolm went first.

He was in tears again as he described his sorrow when he was told of the deaths of their Dutch friends. The photographers' flashes reached a crescendo as he hugged himself around the chest and the tears ran down his handsome face.

Sylvia was more col ected – but at the same time extremely humble and likable.

The Postcard Kil ers were the worst murderers ever seen on the European continent. She appreciated that the police had to investigate every lead, she real y did. The fact that she and her brother had coincidental y and innocently been drawn into it al was a great shame. She at least was grateful that the Swedish judicial system more or less worked, and that two innocent suspects were no longer being held, even though there were some reactionary police officers who were happy to ignore such things as motives and evidence.

"Would we real y have carried out a brutal double murder and then gone to buy tickets to A Streetcar Named Desire?" she asked, her eyes fil ing with tears.

"What do they think we are? A couple of cal ous monsters? No. We came to Europe on vacation. To see museums. To visit your great cities. Is that a crime?"

A cascade of flashes exploded everywhere in the room. There was even some applause.

Dessie pushed her way to the door, took out her cel phone, and rang Forsberg.

"What a show!" the news editor exclaimed. "We're the lead on CNN!"

She noted his empathy toward the Rudolphs.

"I'm going away for a few days," Dessie said. "Just so you know."

"What do you mean, 'away'? Where to?"

"Copenhagen," Dessie said, closing her phone.