Night Rounds

Chapter 8

AT SEVEN-THIRTY IN the morning, Irene and Tommy began their workday at the edge of the forest grove on the far side of Löwander Hospital’s park. Since it was a long time before full daylight, they decided to wait half an hour. The park was large and overgrown, so it would take some time to comb through it, even though the trees were bare of leaves. During the night the temperature had risen to around freezing. The sky was dark gray, which could mean either snow or sleet.

They began their search near the small grove of fir trees. There were many footprints in the thin layer of frost, but also paw prints both large and small. This was clearly a favorite spot to take dogs for walks. Where the grove ended, deciduous trees took over. Most of them had been planted more than a century ago, when the park was first founded. Right behind the hospital itself were big clumps of lilac and golden chain. As the two of them examined the densest bushes more closely, they could see that once upon a time this had been a lilac arbor. Decades of neglect had made it as thick as rain-forest vegetation. Deep among the branches, they could make out a hut.

Irene and Tommy searched for a way in and found an opening almost completely hidden by overgrowth, which appeared to be the former entrance to the arbor and from which they could clearly see the hospital’s employee back door.

They stood in the middle of the thicket. The lilac bushes grew several meters high and concealed almost totally the tiny, green-painted hut. It seemed to be surprisingly new, with a ramp leading up to the wide door. Tommy approached it and tried the handle. With a protesting creak, the door opened. Tommy went inside but came out just as quickly.

“Goddamn it. We’ve found her hidey-hole.”

Irene looked inside. A stench assaulted her nose. Its source was clear. Right by the door was a plastic bucket filled with urine and excrement. The hut was apparently a gardening shed: shovels, rakes, and other gardening tools were lined up neatly against the wall. In the middle of the floor stood a riding lawn mower. There was not much space around it, but here was where Mama Bird had made her home.

At the back of the room, she’d heaped newspapers and flattened cardboard boxes. On top of that was an old sleeping bag covered with a bloom of mildew. She had a plastic bag stuffed with newspapers and rags as her pillow. Irene felt a lump grow in her throat when she realized that Mama Bird had actually made up her bed with a bedcover. On the lower end of the sleeping bag, she’d spread a grimy baby blanket. Once upon a time, the tiny hopping lambs on it must have been pink.

Irene peered into the large plastic bag at the head of the bed. “Here’s the rest of the bread she got yesterday from the pizza joint.”

Examining Mama Bird’s home was a quick job. They stepped outside into the much more pleasant fresh air.

“It looks like she didn’t sleep here last night. She got the bread the day before yesterday,” Irene said. “I imagine she’ll be coming back.”

“Do you think she has a number of hiding places?”

“Possibly. I wonder if anyone at the hospital knows that someone is living here?”

“No idea. We’ll have to ask them later. Now let’s go back to the grove.”

Even though it was lighter now, they still had to use their flashlights to see in the darkness beneath the fir trees. Farther in, the trees grew close together, and it was difficult to make their way between them. They found condoms, empty containers, and dog shit. Beer cans, empty cigarette packs, candy wrappers, potato-chip bags—city people have great faith in nature’s ability to break down waste.

Half an hour later, they’d gone over the whole area. Irene was sweating and disappointed. Tommy plucked pine needles out of her hair and pointed to his own forehead. “Check this out. I was so focused on looking at the ground that I banged my head on a branch.”

Irene stared at him, thinking about what he’d just said. “If we could hardly see in broad daylight, how about someone in the middle of the night?”

“Anyone hiding here wouldn’t have to go in very far.”

“Maybe we should be smarter, then. Concentrate near the hospital and not go too deeply into the woods. And we need to look at the branches, too. Something might have caught in them.”

They did another round through the grove. A few minutes later, Tommy called out.

“Irene! Come here!”

She made her way through the tangle toward Tommy. Without a word he pointed up at a stout fir, about a half meter over the ground. There were some dark fibers hanging on its outer branches.

He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, slipped it up his arm, and took hold of the branch. He broke it above the fibers and enclosed it in the bag, textile fragments and all, then carefully pocketed it. They continued searching but found nothing more beyond further evidence that many people had come here with their dogs. Maybe the forensic technicians could have found something more, but they weren’t here. An ice-cold rain was starting to fall.

“Nothing more here,” Tommy said. “Let’s go inside and ask if anyone knows about Mama Bird’s nest.”

Irene agreed that it was hopeless to continue the search. The rain poured down, making the prospect of shelter tempting. Their boots squelched as they rounded the hospital toward the front just in time to catch a glimpse of Superintendent Andersson disappearing through the grand entrance.

THE WOMAN AT the reception desk looked up from her keyboard, and Irene nudged Tommy. He was good at handling middle-aged women.

“Hi. Do you mind if I bother you for a moment?” Tommy asked in a friendly manner. He looked into her eyes with his kind, puppy-dog gaze.

The receptionist patted her age-inappropriate blond hair, straightened her glasses, and let a pleasant smile appear on her well-reddened lips. “Sure. But I do have a great deal of work to do.”

“I wonder if you’ve seen an elderly lady around the hospital grounds. She looks like she’s probably homeless.”

“A homeless person? Here at Löwander Hospital? Don’t be silly. What would a person like that be doing around here? They usually keep to Brunn Park.”

“You haven’t heard any talk?”

“No.”

“Is there anyone else here who might know about her?”

“Our security guard, Folke Bengtsson, usually knows everything that goes on around here.”

“Where can we find him?”

“One floor down. His room is on the left at the bottom of the stairs.” The phone rang, and the receptionist picked it up, answering with professional warmth: “Löwander Hospital. How may I help you?”

They headed down to Folke Bengtsson’s domain. The security guard was not in, but his door was unlocked, so they went inside. The room was fairly large, with a basement window set high up. When Irene stood on her toes, she could catch a glimpse of the lilac arbor. In silent accord they began to explore the room.

There were a number of Track & Field World Cup posters on the walls. Tommy pointed at a large tool bag hanging near the door. They gave it a quick search but couldn’t find any large wire cutters. On the shelves various things were jumbled together: cardboard boxes with lightbulbs, plumber’s snakes, rolls of steel wire, and a carton labeled Flags. There was an old brown lamp on the desk, as well as a coffeemaker. Irene pulled the desk drawers open. She found only a tin of snuff, some invoices and order forms, pens, and two well-thumbed sports magazines. The upper drawer was locked, and she couldn’t budge it. She was just about to try to force the lock when Tommy signaled to her to stop. They heard heavy footsteps coming down the basement stairs. Irene stepped away from the desk, turning her back to it, and pretended to be looking out the basement window. She said loudly, “You can just about see the tops of the trees in the park.”

“It’s not like they were generous with the view,” they heard a bass voice from the door.

Irene whirled around and tried to appear surprised. “Hi! We were looking for you.” She smiled and held out her hand. “Criminal Inspector Irene Huss. I saw you early Tuesday morning, but we didn’t have a chance to talk.”

“Hi, I’m Folke Bengtsson. Lots of other officers were talking to me.”

They all shook hands. Without even asking, Bengtsson took the glass carafe from the coffeemaker and disappeared into the hallway. They heard him fill it with water from a tap. The security guard was back in an instant and began to measure pleasant-smelling ground coffee into the paper filter. Without his knowing it, Folke Bengtsson was rising in Irene’s esteem. A guy who started the coffee machine right away must be a good guy, at least in her opinion. Her coffee gene was already crying out for a cup.

Folke Bengtsson was about sixty years old, bald and stocky. He reminded Irene of a hefty tree stump. Irene, who kept herself in shape, could tell that this man was still active in some kind of sport, so she began her interrogation with a question. “These posters from the world championship are really great. I was dumb enough to get rid of mine.”

“I took vacation and was able to watch almost the whole thing,” Bengtsson said contentedly.

“Are you active?”

“Not any longer. I coach several young guys, but these days I just lift some weights.”

Judging from the biceps under his blue plaid flannel shirt, Bengtsson lifted a great many weights. He handed plastic mugs filled with coffee to Tommy and Irene, keeping a porcelain mug with the text I’m the Boss in English for himself. He took the large key ring from his belt and opened the desk’s top drawer. Irene craned her neck to see what was inside: a packet of cookies and a number of other keys. Bengtsson took out the cookies and shut the drawer.

Irene thanked him for the cookie, drawing the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee into her nostrils. “Excuse me, Folke, for changing the subject. I do have to ask you about keys,” she said. “The murderer must have had keys to the hospital. There is no trace of forced entry anywhere in the building, and I’m wondering about master keys. How many are there?”

“Two. I have one and Dr. Löwander has one.”

“What kinds of keys do the other employees have?”

“One to the outer doors. It’s the same key for the front and back doors, and it also works for the employee changing room here in the basement. Then they have a separate key for their department.”

“So the employees of the care ward would have keys to the care ward and surgery employees for the surgery department?”

“That’s right.”

“But you keep extra keys for everything in that drawer?”

“Yes, but I’m the only one who has a key to this room, and I lock it when I go home for the day. This desk drawer is always locked, and I’m the only one with a key.” Bengtsson appeared satisfied with his mastery of the key situation.

“But this room wasn’t locked when we got here.”

“No, it’s open during the day.”

“But the top drawer is always locked.”

“Always.”

“Where do you keep the master key?”

“Here.” The security guard pulled the key ring out of his pocket and showed how it was attached to his belt. “And here’s the key to the top drawer.”

Irene saw that she wasn’t going to get any more information about keys, so she decided to change the subject and ask about Mama Bird.

“Are you aware that there’s a lady living in the toolshed?”

Bengtsson stiffened. He looked down into his steaming coffee mug and mumbled, “Hmm, there is?”

He was truly a terrible liar.

“Didn’t you see yesterday’s GT? Didn’t you read about the woman who had seen old Tekla haunt the place on the night of the murder?”

“Well … yes … I saw it. Where did they find out about that?”

“The journalist who wrote the article had interviewed Mama Bird.”

Bengtsson looked up from his mug, surprised. “An interview? In her state?”

“So you know her?”

The security guard sighed, defeated. “Yes, I know her. Or at least I’m aware of her. I found her right before Christmas.”

“Found?”

“Yes, she was wrapped up in a garbage bag and had huddled against the basement heating exhaust, on the other side of the electrical room’s wall. At first I thought that someone had dumped garbage on the property, and I was furious. I walked over to get it and drag it to the garbage room when I realized that there was a human being inside.”

“Did you bring her into the building?”

“No. She stank to high heaven. It made you want to throw up. And she was totally off her rocker. I couldn’t get a word of sense out of her.”

“So you decided to let her sleep in the toolshed.”

Bengtsson nodded, resigned. “What else was I supposed to do? The hospital was closing for Christmas. She obviously had no home of her own. I unlocked the garden shed for her. She seemed to be very happy. Sometimes I hang a plastic bag with sandwiches on the door handle, and they’re gone the next morning. Though I have to say that I once saw her crumbling them into bits so she could feed the birds.”

“Where did you see her do that?”

“Here in the park.”

“Does anyone else know about Mama Bird?”

Folke Bengtsson shrugged his massive shoulders. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you know her real name?”

“No idea. She only babbled about being Mama Bird. But really, I haven’t talked to her much since that first morning.”

“Does she stay in the shed during the day?”

“No, she’s always gone in the morning. I arrive at six-thirty A.M. I never catch a glimpse of her then.”

“Have you looked inside the toolshed?”

The guard swallowed and nodded. “Yes, it’s pretty damned awful.… But she can stay through the winter. After that I’ll throw her out and lock the door again. I’ll deep-clean the shed and then repaint it thoroughly. No one will ever have to know that she lived there.”

It was obvious he was pleading with them not to tell. He seemed to feel sympathy for the homeless woman.

“Do you know where we can find Mama Bird during the day?”

“No idea. But.…” He hesitated, thought awhile, then said doubtfully, “One Saturday morning a few weeks ago, I saw her in Drottning Square. She came out of the shopping center with a big plastic bag in each hand, singing to herself as she walked by.”

“Did you hear what she was singing?”

Bengtsson looked surprised. “No. I kept my distance.”

“Did she see you?”

“No. She went to Hotel Eggers and sat down right by the entrance. Then she opened the bags and began to crumble up loaves of bread and scatter oats until she was covered with pigeons. Disgusting.”

The woman’s curious stink had an explanation, Irene thought. “When did you last see her?”

“Well … she’s not easy to spot. I only saw her that one time in Drottning Square. She comes to the shed late at night and leaves in the early morning. Last Monday night I hung a bag of sandwiches for her, and they were gone Tuesday morning.”

So Mama Bird was definitely nearby on the night of the murder. It was urgent that they find her.

“What does Mama Bird look like? How is she dressed?”

Bengtsson took some time to think before he answered. “Well, it’s hard to tell how old she is. Perhaps a bit younger than me. Short and thin. Though it’s hard to see what she really looks like. She wears a large man’s coat. She wears a knitted cap—I believe it’s pink. She keeps it pulled over her ears and nearly over her eyes. You don’t see much of her face.” “What color is her coat?”

“Don’t know. Brown. Gray. She wears it with a rope tied around her waist. She has big gym shoes on her feet, and she stuffs them with newspaper.”

“Anything else?”

“No. Yes. She has hardly any teeth.”

Tommy and Irene thanked him for the coffee and got up to leave. As they walked through the hallway, Irene stopped by the door marked central electricity.

“Have the techs searched the entire basement?” she asked.

“Yes, but they didn’t find anything outside of this room,” Tommy answered. “They also made a sweep of the elevator. Malm believes that she was killed in the ICU. She must have opened the door for the killer, since the lock can only be turned from the inside. Looks like she knew the murderer.”

“Unless the murderer had a key.”

“It’s possible. But the techs couldn’t figure out where in the room she was killed. During the outage Dr. Löwander and the old nurse were fumbling around and knocking stuff over. By the next morning the young ICU nurse had already cleaned it all up. Anna-Karin. She knew Marianne and was Linda’s friend.”

Again Irene had the feeling that Anna-Karin knew more than she was letting on. Still, it was only a feeling, and she couldn’t press the nurse further just on a hunch. She turned to Tommy and said, “I’m going up to the care ward. Nurse Ellen promised to take a look at my cat scratches.”

“All right. I’ll ask around and see if I can get anything more on Mama Bird.”

• • •

IRENE CLIMBED THE stairs up to the ward. At the nurses’ station, she found her boss in happy conversation with Nurse Ellen Karlsson. They were laughing heartily together at a good joke. Irene tried to remember when she had last heard him laugh like that. When he saw her, he stopped abruptly, and his face turned red. He had the look of a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, Irene thought. But there should have been nothing for him to blush about.

Nurse Ellen followed Andersson’s glance and spun around in her chair. “Well, hello. How are you feeling? Your scratches giving you any trouble?”

“Thanks, I’m fine. As long as I don’t laugh.”

“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 and 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.

SHE 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.”

“What about Andreas himself?”

Niklas drew out his answer. “He wanted to live with me. I knew that our relationship was something special,” he said triumphantly.

Just how Andreas had described his relationship with Marianne not more than one hour before. Irene decided this was nothing to share with Niklas.

“You did not know that Andreas and Marianne were meeting as often as they did.”

His face clouded over immediately. “No.”

“What did you think about it once you knew?”

“I found out about it only yesterday. And now it doesn’t matter.” He smiled an evil smile.

For a second he reminded Irene of Belker. This was how the cat must have looked just before he’d dug his claws into the soft skin of her face. Niklas’s smile disappeared quickly. He leaned over her desk and stared her in the eye.

“I know what you think. You believe that I killed Marianne so Andreas would never go back to her. But I can assure you that I did not kill her. Of course, I’m not a hypocrite. I’m not grieving her death. But how she died … no. There was no reason for me to kill her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Andreas will never leave me.”

“Where were you at midnight between the tenth and eleventh?”

Niklas grinned again as he answered. “Believe it or not, I do have an alibi. I was at a pub with three friends all night long. And I’m going to hand you their names and addresses right now.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper, obviously ripped from a notebook, and set it in front of Irene.

She did not glance down but kept her gaze steady on Niklas. “Let’s hear your entire alibi.”

Niklas leaned back and looked at her through half-shut eyes. Finally he said, “I do hope that Andreas will not learn of this. He doesn’t know anything about it.”

“What doesn’t he know?”

“That I met these old pals. We’ve been friends for a long time, and they’re not people he knows.”

“What time did you meet them and at which pub? Remember, we will be checking up.”

“Of course. I have a set time at the gym every night. I went straight to the gym after work on Monday. That’s the address furthest down on the list. Then I went in the sauna and spent some time in the tanning bed. Probably left around seven-thirty. Then I went straight to Johan’s place. His address is there, too. We waited for the other two, had a good dinner together, and then we went out.”

“When did you leave Johan’s apartment?”

“Around eleven P.M. We went to the Gomorrah Club and were there for the rest of the evening.”

“When did you return home?”

“Three A.M. Alone. I had to get up early to go to work the next morning. That morning was hard, but I made it. I hardly go clubbing anymore. People get older and more stable.” He smiled derisively.

“So you were with your pals the whole time.”

“The whole time.”

His self-assurance gleamed over his head like a halo. Of course all this had to be checked out carefully, but Irene felt he was telling the truth.

“And you would prefer that Andreas did not find out.”

“Preferably not.”

There was only a touch of worry in his voice.