Night Rounds

Chapter 12

MICROWAVED LEFTOVER SHRIMP stew was not the worst possible lunch. Irene was seldom able to have lunch at home when she was working, but today she’d managed, since it wasn’t far between Hovås and Fiskebäck. She quickly heated a mug of water in the microwave as she sorted the mail. Ads for miracle diets and rebates for gym memberships to prepare for the coming bikini season were predominant.

Absentmindedly, Irene scooped three heaping spoons of instant coffee into the hot water. As the coffee cooled, she went to the hall mirror and took a good look at her reflection. Her hair was passable. Reddish brown and shoulder length with some wave and a touch of gray. It needed to be cut, but she had an appointment tomorrow for that, she reminded herself. Her face was oval, and her wide mouth had good teeth. A bit baggy under the eyes, though. She tried lifting the edges of her eyes with her fingertips on her forehead. Her eyebrows rose and the bags disappeared, but she acquired an expression of chronic surprise. Not a good look for a criminal inspector. You probably shouldn’t go around with a face that said, “Really? You don’t say!” every time you visit the scene of a crime or bring a suspect in for questioning. That rationalization was easier than admitting she didn’t have twenty thousand crowns for a face lift. Sighing, she let go of her forehead and looked at the clock. Time to head to Löwander Hospital.

• • •

AS SHE NEARED the exit for the hospital, she spotted a gang of boys busy on the bridge over the stream. Curious, she slowed and saw that the stream had swollen from the torrential rains during the weekend. On an impulse she parked at the side of the road and strolled over. The boys were about middle-school age. A muscular boy in a muddy snowboarding jacket dangled dangerously from the railing while he scrabbled industriously in the culvert underneath the bridge. He had a broken Christmas-tree branch to help him.

One of the smaller boys saw Irene and said, “He’s only trying to get rid of what’s blocking it.”

Now Irene was able to realize that the creek had risen only on the upstream side. Farther down, the stream was flowing normally on its way to Mölndal River.

The boy with the stick was groaning from his effort. “There’s something … here.… I feel it.… Damn! It’s stuck! Now it’s coming loo—”

The boy almost lost his grip on the bridge fence when the branch came unstuck with a jerk. It took Irene’s brain a few seconds to register what her eyes saw. A soaking-wet pink beanie was dangling on the end of the stick.

THE FIRE STATION’S divers helped recover the body. Irene had immediately called Superintendent Andersson and Tommy Persson, who were now at the scene. The three police officers stared unhappily at the mangled corpse of Gunnela Hägg. Life had certainly been hard on Mama Bird, but her death had not been more merciful. Small animals had gnawed off her nose and lips. While waiting for the forensic doctor, they decided to place a gray tarp over her. The body was so emaciated that there were hardly any contours under the stiff plastic. They turned and walked heavily over to the other discovery the divers had made.

Linda Svensson’s bicycle lay on the bank. It had been wedged sideways in the culvert and had anchored Gunnela Hägg’s body in the rapid runoff of the melting snow. Superintendent Andersson inspected the bicycle morosely, mumbling so quietly that only his people could hear him, “I see. That’s what a city bike looks like.”

He straightened himself and turned toward the fire station’s chief. “I’d like your divers to comb the area around the bridge and a bit farther downstream. Maybe the murderer threw in something else.”

The familiar white Ford Escort zoomed toward the bridge, Yvonne Stridner’s frizzy red hair visible behind the windshield. Irene was extremely relieved to see her, although her boss was not. Irene wanted someone as competent at Stridner at the murder scene.

“The bike is here, but where’s Linda?” the superintendent asked himself.

“Linda? Is that the name of the victim?” asked Stridner. She’d parked and walked up to the group, giving the gray tarp an appraising look.

“No, Linda is the missing nurse. Her bicycle is over there. The victim is Gunnela Hägg, a homeless woman,” Andersson said.

“I see. Well, tonight she’ll be inside for a change. I won’t be able to do the autopsy this afternoon, so it will have to wait until first thing tomorrow morning.”

Irene thought, Too bad some people have to die in order to be indoors. She was startled back to attention by Yvonne’s brisk, “Turn her over!”

The command was directed at two of the firemen, who complied immediately. One of them rushed off to vomit into the stream immediately afterward. Stridner didn’t say anything, but her expression said, wimp, loud and clear. She pulled on her rubber gloves and protective smock and began to examine the body on the ground.

The police officers watched her in silence. All three felt oppressed by the shabbiness of life and death.

Ice-cold certainty began to seep into Irene’s consciousness. Her lips were reluctant to form the words coming from her brain. “She’s here.”

Andersson was jolted from his thoughts. “Who? Gunnela Hägg?”

“No, Linda.”

Tommy and Andersson looked at her and started to nod at the same time.

“She biked away around midnight. Her bike is here. Ergo, so is she,” Tommy agreed.

They began to search. There were overgrown bushes all along the banks of the stream, as well as a number of fir trees whose long branches swept the ground. Linda could be under any of these. She certainly wasn’t in the grove by the parking lot.

“We’ll have to bring in a dog,” said Superintendent Andersson.

Irene pulled out her cell phone and arranged for a canine patrol.

The sun had already gone down behind the buildings. The shadows under the trees began to deepen. None of the police officers wanted to talk. They stood lost in their own thoughts as they waited for the pathologist’s preliminary results.

Finally Yvonne Stridner got to her feet. She waved majestically at the body, which the men from Funeral Services understood they could now take to the pathology lab. She ripped off her protective covering and stuffed it into a plastic bag. Irene realized then that Stridner was wearing rubber boots. They were uncharacteristically plain for the pathologist.

“Large, deep wounds on the back of the head. One or more powerful blows to the base of the skull. Again, we’re dealing with a strong killer. I estimate she’s been dead for a number of days. It’s been cold until Thursday evening, which hinders decay. I will have to examine her more closely tomorrow.”

“She must have been left on top of the ice, because the stream was frozen until last Thursday,” Tommy pointed out.

Stridner nodded. “I’ll have to keep those factors in mind when I perform the autopsy. She hasn’t been in the water all that long. I’ll get in touch tomorrow afternoon.”

Mud squishing under her boots, the pathology professor turned to go to her car.

Andersson glared after her. “Why is she always in such a hurry to get back to work? It’s not like her patients pick up and go home when they’re tired of waiting.”

Gunnela Hägg’s body was carried away inside the discreet gray station wagon. The technicians had arrived and were wrapping the bicycle in the same gray tarp that had earlier covered the body. One of the divers shouted and triumphantly waved a muddy tool. Irene came closer and saw that it was a large pair of pliers. She did not doubt for a minute that they were the wire cutters. One of the technicians wrapped them in a large plastic bag.

Andersson looked extremely tired.

“I don’t know about you, but I need coffee, preferably intravenously,” Irene said.

The superintendent gave her a grateful look. It was starting to get dark in the ravine. The Canine Unit arrived, and two eager German shepherds were let out of the backseat of a Volvo. The superintendent was happy to see they were on a leash. He was not particularly fond of dogs—nor any other animal for that matter. He nodded and said, “Since Irene wants coffee, let’s go back to the station and get some.”

THE ENTIRE TEAM had assembled in the conference room. The superintendent briefed the rest on what had happened near the hospital that afternoon.

“Even though Gunnela Hägg was totally bonkers and completely harmless, she was a danger to the murderer. He must have understood that she had seen something the night of the murder when he read Kurt Höök’s article,” Tommy said.

Irene nodded. “So he knew who Mama Bird was, and he knew how to get her.” She thought a moment. “When I asked around at the hospital, I had the feeling that very few people knew she’d stayed in the garden shed. Gunnela came late in the evening and left early in the morning.”

“The murderer must have been waiting for her there,” Tommy said.

“Nurse Ellen saw her once right after six A.M.,” Irene said. “A hasty glimpse at the parking lot. They call the area Burnsite, by the way.”

“Why is that?” asked Birgitta.

“There used to be an old mansion there, but it burned down eleven years ago. According to Sister Ellen, Sverker Löwander’s ex-wife, Barbro, accused his present wife, Carina, of arson.”

“Why would she want to burn the place down?”

“Because she didn’t want to live there.”

“Seems improbable.…”

“Stop all that side chat,” growled Andersson. “We have to focus on last week at Löwander Hospital.” The superintendent took a deep breath. “How do we explain Linda’s bike? The canine patrol has found nothing. They’ll try again tomorrow when it’s light.”

Hannu indicated he wanted to say something. “The bicycle was ahead of the body.”

Everyone sitting around the table blinked. A second later Irene realized what he meant. “It was already in the culvert and kept her body from washing away. Therefore, it was there first,” she explained.

“Maybe the bike could have been shoved in on the other side?” suggested Fredrik.

“Maybe so, but most logically the bicycle was thrown in while there was still ice. It also would have been easy to push Gunnela’s body over the ice to the culvert. If the weather hadn’t warmed so quickly, they’d still be hidden. Bad luck for the murderer, but good luck for us,” Irene concluded.

“Bad luck for Gunnela that she ran into Kurt Höök,” said Tommy glumly.

Jonny turned to Irene. “That tape you listened to … did Gunnela Hägg say that Linda rode her bike from the hospital?”

“That’s right. Should I get the tape?”

“Go ahead.” The superintendent nodded.

While Irene went for the tape, Birgitta called in the evening’s pizza order for delivery.

Everyone concentrated on the tape. Irene heard her own voice imitating Kurt Höök’s as he asked Mama Bird how the nurse left Löwander Hospital after her revenge, then her imitation of Mama Bird: “She took the bike. God punishes theft!”

“Good heavens. That’s the only place on the tape where she answers a question directly. But does she really mean that the person dressed as the ghost nurse biked off wearing the old-fashioned nurse uniform?” Irene wondered.

“Not all that improbable. The bike was shoved under the bridge. Then our murderer could have gotten out of costume.”

“But then why burn it up in the garden shed as late as Saturday?” Irene asked stubbornly.

“Maybe just to get rid of the evidence,” Tommy said. “No garden shed, no proof that Gunnela was staying there. No nurse’s uniform, no proof that someone was wearing it to spook the nurses at Löwander Hospital.”

Jonny looked at the tape player thoughtfully. “Gunnela said that the ghost nurse stole the bicycle. It was Linda’s, of course. Maybe it was Linda who had dressed up as a ghost to haunt the hospital? She left her apartment early enough to play the spook. So perhaps she was the one who murdered Marianne?”

Irene nodded slowly. “Not so crazy. But some things still don’t work. First, the night nurse who saw her was sure it was Nurse Tekla. I’ve seen a photo of Tekla. She was a large, strong woman, almost as tall as me, but bustier, with such thick hair it couldn’t be hidden by a nurse’s cap. Linda would never have been able to play Nurse Tekla. But I’ve met a woman who could.”

“Who?” everyone asked in chorus.

“Doris Peterzén.”

“Doris …? Why the hell would she want to kill Marianne Svärd?” the superintendent sputtered.

“Money. The most common motive in history. She’s inheriting millions. You should have seen her mansion in Hovås.”

“She doesn’t get anything from killing Marianne Svärd.”

“Sure she does, if the idea was to create an accidental outage so that the respirator goes out and Nils Peterzén dies a natural death due to unfortunate circumstances. Marianne would be able to do CPR until the power came back on. Marianne had to be taken out of the game.”

“But was killing her really necessary?” asked Tommy.

“Maybe it went wrong. Maybe Marianne was stronger than she appeared,” Irene suggested.

Birgitta shook her head. “No. She was strangled with a noose. Was it brought along? I think the purpose was to kill her right from the start.”

“You’re right. Honestly, though, it doesn’t seem to be Doris Peterzén’s style,” Irene admitted. “Cutting off the power to the respirator, committing a bloodless murder—that would not be out of the question. But killing an innocent nurse by strangling her … no. It’s hard to reconcile that with Doris Peterzén’s personality.” She thought glumly for a moment, then brightened up. “Then again, we have Göran.”

This statement was met with a polite, questioning silence from her colleagues. They knew that Irene’s brain worked so quickly she ran through ten sentences before speaking the eleventh.

Andersson sighed. “Göran who?”

“Peterzén. Göran Peterzén. Nils Peterzén’s son from his first marriage. He’s almost sixty years old. Seems to have been under his father’s boot his entire life. He said it would be hard to take care of business after his father’s death, and I find that suspicious. A man who is almost old enough to retire himself can’t run the bank without Daddy’s help? And of course he stands to inherit a great deal of money, too.”

Irene’s cheeks had gotten slightly pink from the ideas that came pouring in. Jonny brought her right back to earth. “And this Göran would look like the perfect Valkyrie in an antique nurse uniform?”

Irene thought back to Göran’s appearance and sighed. “No, he’s almost six feet tall and weighs well over two hundred fifty pounds,” she admitted. Her mood fell.

Jonny scoffed. “So Doris Peterzén, wearing a nurse’s uniform, drives over to Löwander Hospital to cut the power so the respirator stops working. At the same time, she strangles Marianne Svärd. After that she pedals away on Linda Svensson’s bicycle, wearing the uniform, and then shoves the bike down the culvert. She’s shocked the next day when she reads that there’s a witness and in some supernatural manner knows that this must be Gunnela Hägg. Maybe she’s psychic? Then she kills Gunnela. On Saturday she returns to set fire to the garden shed and the nurse’s uniform. And where does Linda fit into all this? Irene, I believe this is one of your worst theories ever.”

Irene sourly thought that some people seem to recover more quickly than others from stomach flu. The worst thing was that Jonny was right. Linda’s disappearance did not fit into her theory, and, of course, Linda was involved. Her day planner was in Marianne’s pocket, her bicycle was in the culvert, and she’d been gone ever since Marianne’s murder.

The pager buzzed to let them know the pizza had arrived. Irene and Tommy volunteered to go pick it up.

In the elevator Tommy said seriously, “We have to find Linda. Dead or alive. We won’t understand how the murders of Marianne Svärd and Gunnela Hägg are connected until we do.”

“So you believe it’s the same killer?”

“Oh, yes.”

THE SUPERINTENDENT STILL looked tired, Irene thought. This case was wearing him down. No one knew better than Andersson that they hadn’t gotten much further than they’d been a week ago, when the only thing they worried about was Marianne Svärd’s murder. So far the media hadn’t found out that Gunnela Hägg was dead. As soon as they did, they’d bite. Andersson didn’t realize that he’d sighed heavily, but everyone else heard it. Tactfully, they pretended that they didn’t notice. At his age he was allowed a few small eccentricities. Not to mention he was the boss.

“I want to hear that tape again,” Tommy said.

For lack of other alternatives, Irene started the tape from the beginning. Tommy leaned forward and listened closely until the end. “She took the bike. God punishes theft!”

“Yep! That’s exactly what she says.” Tommy looked at his colleagues in triumph. They all tried their best to appear as if they understood what he was getting at. “Don’t you hear what she says? ‘She took the bike. God punishes theft!’ So the bike did not belong to ‘Nurse Tekla,’ but she was the one who pedaled away on it.” Tommy used air quotes around the ghost nurse’s name.

“So you mean that Gunnela Hägg saw Linda arrive and park her bike at the hospital but it was not Linda who biked away again,” said Irene.

“Yep.”

“And the person didn’t resemble Linda,” Jonny pointed out.

“Why would Linda park her bicycle and then disappear completely?” Irene countered.

Jonny glared, but he was forced to agree.

They listened to the tape one more time, but there was nothing to add.

“If Tommy is right, Gunnela Hägg saw Linda leave her bike in the hospital park. You could wonder why she went in the back way during the middle of the night. It’s a little creepy, and she had a key for the much better-lit front door.” Irene fell silent for a moment. “Did Gunnela see her actually enter the building? We don’t know. But let’s say she did.”

“Okay. Let’s say she did,” Jonny snapped. “And then what?”

Irene pretended he’d said nothing. “Gunnela says that Nurse Tekla came out, took Linda’s bike, and rode off.” She paused to see if her colleagues were following her. Everyone kept silent, so she continued. “Gunnela said nothing about seeing Linda come out again.”

Andersson glowered at her mistrustfully. “Still in the hospital? Ridiculous!” He thought it through. “But then again there’s nothing to indicate that she ever did come out.”