Stalker

74

Where Mäster Samuelsgatan crosses Malmskillnadsgatan, the tall buildings form a canyon that forces the wind to become gusty and hard. Dust and rubbish swirl about restlessly around the little bronze girl whose downturned eyes have been surrounded by prostitutes for more than three decades.

Erik has come with Joona so that he’s close at hand if they manage to find Rocky. He’s sitting in the Mozzarella restaurant and has just ordered a cup of coffee.

He’s already called Jackie and left two messages for her, apologising and then trying to explain that there might be a patient stalking him.

He takes a sip of his coffee, and sees his worried face reflected in the window facing the street. He can’t understand how he’s managed to ruin everything. Being alone after Simone left hadn’t scared him, but then he’d been given another chance, Cupid had crept to the edge of his cloud and fired another arrow his way.

He gets out his phone, looks at the time, then calls Jackie for a third time. When her recorded voice asks him to leave a message, he closes his eyes and speaks:

‘Jackie… I’m so very sorry, I’ve already said that, but people do make mistakes… I’m not going to make any excuses, but I’m here… I’ll wait for you, I’ll practise my étude… and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make you start trusting me again.’

As Erik puts his phone down on the table, alongside his cup, Joona stops next to two women standing against a blank concrete wall. Leaning on his stick, he tries to strike up a conversation with them, but when they realise he isn’t a customer they turn their back on him and begin talking to each other in low voices.

‘Do you know somewhere called the Zone?’ he asks. ‘I’ll pay well if you can tell me where it is.’

They start to walk off and Joona limps after them, trying to explain that the Zone might be called something else officially.

He stops and turns to walk in the opposite direction. Further ahead, close to the Kungsgatan towers, a thin woman gets into a white van.

Joona passes some scaffolding, and sees a pile of discarded latex gloves and condoms beside the wall.

A woman in her forties is sitting in the next doorway. Her hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail and she’s wrapped in a thick jacket. She’s wearing a pair of stained red shorts, and her legs are bare and covered in scabs.

‘Excuse me,’ Joona says.

‘I’m going,’ the woman slurs.

She stands up with the manner of someone who is used to being moved on, her coat falls open, revealing her cropped T-shirt, and she looks up.

‘Liza?’ Joona says.

Her eyes are watery, and her face is wrinkled and tired.

‘They told me you were dead,’ she says.

‘I came back.’

‘You came back.’ She laughs hoarsely. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

She rubs her eyes hard, smearing her make-up.

‘Your son?’ Joona says, leaning on his stick. ‘He was with a foster-family, you were going to start seeing him again.’

‘Are you disappointed in me?’ she asks, turning her face away.

‘I just thought you’d packed this in,’ he replies.

‘So did I, but what the hell…’

She takes a few unsteady steps, then stops and leans on an overflowing rubbish bin.

‘Can I get you a coffee and a cheese roll?’ Joona asks.

Liza shakes her head.

‘You have to eat, don’t you?’

She looks up and blows some strands of hair from her face.

‘Just tell me what you want to know.’

‘Do you know a place called the Zone? It sounds like a lot of girls work there, it’s pretty Russian, it’s existed for ten years or so, and you can get hold of heroin fairly easily there…’

‘There used to be a place out in Barkarby – what the fuck was it called?’

‘Club Noir… that’s gone now.’

A flock of sparrows takes off from the trees.

‘There’s the massage parlour out in Solna, but…’

‘That’s too small,’ Joona says.

‘Try the Internet,’ she suggests.

‘Thanks, I’ll do that,’ he says, and starts to walk off.

‘Most men are OK,’ she mutters.

Joona stops and looks at her again. She’s standing unsteadily with her hands on the rubbish bin, licking her lips.

‘Do you know where Peter Dahlin hangs out these days?’ he asks.

‘In hell, I hope.’

‘I know… but if he hasn’t got there yet?’

She bends over and starts scratching her leg.

‘I heard he’d moved back into his mum’s flat in the Fältöversten building, over at Karlaplan,’ she says quietly, and stares at her nails.