Postcard killers

Chapter 24

Jacob Kanon did up his suede jacket, the first sign that he felt anything.

"You're talented, ambitious, and your career comes first above almost everything else in your life. You're wel educated – real y too wel for the 35 type of journalism you're involved in, but that doesn't seem to bother you."

Dessie made an effort to look cool and neutral as she sipped her coffee.

"Why do you think that?"

"Am I right?"

She cleared her throat quietly.

"Wel," she said. "Maybe a bit. Some of that is true. Continue, please."

He gave her an indulgent look.

"It's not rocket science," he said. "I think I've worked out what they do when they pick their contacts."

Dessie wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Everything about this was so creepy and unreal.

"What?"

"They buy the local papers the day they decide to set to work. The paper, and the reporter, with the biggest crime news that day is the one they pick as their contact."

Dessie blinked several times.

"Burglar Bengt," she said. "My interview with Burglar Bengt was on the front page of Aftonposten on Thursday."

Jacob Kanon looked out at the sea.

"But how could you know?" she said. "That bit about ambition and education?"

"You're a woman and you write about typically male subjects. That requires talent, and also stubbornness. Where I come from, crime reporting isn't very highly regarded, even if it sel s papers. That's why the journalists involved in it tend to be competent but not too hung up on prestige."

"That's not always the case," Dessie said, thinking of Alexander Andersson.

Jacob Kanon leaned toward her.

"I need to work with you," he said. "I need a way into the investigation and the media. I think I can get them this time. I do."

Dessie got up, holding down the payment with the coffeepot so it wouldn't blow away.

"Have a bath and burn your clothes," she said. "Then we'l see."