The Fire Witness

144

Flora is sitting on the steps in front of Carlén Antiques. She’s buttoning her coat. Color is coming back to her face, but she says nothing. Joona has his cell phone to his ear and has just called Nils Åhlén, the head of forensic medicine at Karolinska Hospital.

“Wait a sec,” Joona hears The Needle say. “I’ve just gotten a smartphone.”

There’s static in Joona’s ear.

“Yes? What can I do for you, Joona?”

“I have a short question,” Joona says.

“By the way, Frippe’s in love,” The Needle says in his nasal voice.

“How nice,” Joona says.

“I’m afraid that he’ll be miserable if things don’t work out,” The Needle continues. “You know what I’m saying?”

“Yes, but-”

“So what was your question?”

“Was Miranda Eriksdotter pregnant?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You remember, the girl who-”

“I remember everyone,” The Needle says.

“You do? You never told me that.”

“You never asked.”

Flora has gotten to her feet and is smiling anxiously.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Absolutely,” The Needle says. “She couldn’t even get pregnant.”

“She couldn’t?”

“She had large cysts on her ovaries.”

“All right. Now I know. Thanks. Oh, and say hi to Frippe.”

“Will do.”

Joona ends the conversation and looks at Flora. Flora’s smile starts to fade.

“Why do you do things like this?” Joona asks in a serious tone. “You told me the murdered girl was pregnant, but she couldn’t even get pregnant.”

Flora gestures back to the door to the basement. “I remember that she-”

“But it isn’t true,” Joona says. “She wasn’t pregnant.”

“I meant to say,” Flora whispers. “I meant to say she thought she was pregnant. She wasn’t pregnant, but she thought she was. She believed it.”

“Jumala,” Joona swears in Finnish. He starts to walk along Upplandsgatan toward his car.