He Who Kills the Dragon

83.

‘Fresh rolls, peaceful intent, interesting news,’ Annika Carlsson said, waving the bag from the bakery.

‘Come in,’ Bäckström grunted. He hadn’t had much sleep, since he had spent a couple hours deep in thought before he finally fainted away in his own bed.

‘What time is it, anyway?’

‘Ten o’clock,’ Annika Carlsson said. ‘I took it for granted that you were out carousing all night with one of your many female admirers, so I didn’t come round too early.’

‘Kind of you,’ Bäckström said with a wry smile. Open to all comers, he thought. But really quite nice.

‘So if you get in the shower, nice Auntie Annika will get breakfast for you.’

‘Pancakes, bacon?’ Bäckström suggested.

‘Out of the question,’ Annika said, and snorted.

‘What do you think, Bäckström?’ Annika asked half an hour later when she had told him what Lawman had told her.

‘Think about what?’ Bäckström said. His mind was on other things.

‘Do you think Kalle Danielsson might have tried to force him to have sex with him? Seems to fit the profile of that sort of perpetrator. Slightly older, alcoholic, mostly male social circle, clearly sexually active, seeing how he had Viagra and condoms in his flat. A young man like Akofeli, black, half his size. Probably quite appealing to someone like Danielsson when he’d had a few and his inhibitions started to wobble.’

‘No chance,’ Bäckström said, shaking his head. ‘Danielsson wasn’t the type.’

‘What do you mean, not the type?’ Annika said.

‘The type to fuck people in the ass,’ Bäckström said.

‘What do you mean?’ Annika Carlsson said. ‘Even someone like you would have a go if you got the chance.’

‘Male ass,’ Bäckström clarified. Open to all comers, he thought.

‘If you say so,’ Annika Carlsson said, with a nonchalant shrug.

‘Listen to this instead,’ Bäckström said. ‘Last night when I got home I suddenly realized what it is that doesn’t make sense about Akofeli. You know, the thing I’ve been worrying about.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Annika Carlsson said a quarter of an hour later. ‘So he took the stairs instead of the elevator. What’s the problem? Maybe he wanted some extra exercise. I do a lot of step exercises myself. It’s very good for you, you know.’

‘Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,’ Bäckström said.

‘Okay,’ Annika Carlsson said, her little black notebook out at the ready.

‘I want to know all about Akofeli’s newspaper round,’ Bäckström said. ‘What his route was, which building he started in, where he finished, how many papers he delivered in total, how many he delivered in Hasselstigen, and what order he did it in. Clear?’

‘Okay,’ Annika Carlsson said with a nod. ‘And how do I reach you when I’m done?’

‘At work,’ Bäckström said. ‘Just need to throw some clothes on.’