The killer's art

21

Detective Inspector Karin Jacobsson was the person that Knutas cared about most at his job. They had worked together for fifteen years. She was an astute and skilled officer, but it was Karin’s personality that had drawn him to her from the very start. She was charming, lively and spirited; she always had an opinion about everything, and he’d never met anybody who was able to get to the point so fast. At least when it came to their work. She was a sweet, petite woman with dark hair and doe-like eyes. She spent much of her free time playing football, as was evident from her muscular physique. Her most remarkable feature was the gap between her front teeth, which was most apparent whenever she smiled or laughed. Karin almost always wore jeans and a shirt. In the summertime she would occasionally appear at work wearing a dress, causing a few raised eyebrows. She was thirty-nine but looked younger, and she was still single, at least as far as Knutas knew. If she was involved in a relationship, she was keeping it to herself, which was practically impossible to do in a small town like Visby. Her parents lived in Tingstade, and she saw them now and then. There was something enigmatic about Karin that Knutas couldn’t work out.

Right now they were having coffee in his office, considering various motives for the murder of Egon Wallin.

‘It does seem strange that the artist and his manager would leave for Stockholm on the very morning of the murder, but there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation,’ said Jacobsson. ‘Maybe it was something they’d planned long before.’

‘Well, I hope we can get hold of them soon so we can hear what they have to say. We can’t dismiss the fact that it’s a damned odd coincidence for them to end up on the same plane as Egon Wallin’s biggest competitor. And a guy who had previously tried to get his mitts on Kalvalis.’

‘I agree. But how many flights to Stockholm are there on a Sunday?’ Jacobsson went on. ‘It may have nothing at all to do with the case. I think that first and foremost we need to ask ourselves why Egon Wallin went out in the middle of the night. What normal person goes home with his wife around eleven after a festive evening and then suddenly decides to take a walk? Besides, it was freezing cold on Saturday night. The only reason I can think of is that he went out to meet someone. A love tryst, to put it bluntly.’

‘I’ve also been thinking along those lines. But who is this lover of his and where can we find her? And why hasn’t she come forward? Egon Wallin didn’t take his car, nor did he ring for a cab; we’ve already checked on that. So he must have left home on foot, and then he either ran into the murderer somewhere outdoors, or he was killed at the home of his mistress.’

‘Others could also be involved,’ Jacobsson interjected. ‘Maybe his mistress had a husband who discovered what was going on, and he killed Egon Wallin during the night.’

‘Unless it was his mistress who did it,’ countered Knutas. ‘Though I have a hard time imagining that a woman would be able to hoist up his body like that. Provided she didn’t have help, of course.’

Knutas stopped to sneeze loudly. He took a few moments to blow his nose before going on.

‘Good Lord, we can keep on speculating for ever, but it won’t really get us anywhere.’

Jacobsson drained the last of her coffee and got up.

‘How are things going, by the way?’ asked Knutas. ‘How are you?’

He regarded her intently. There was something weighing on her; he’d noticed it for several days now. She’s really sweet, he thought as he observed her hesitation.

When she first arrived at Visby police headquarters, he thought for a while that he was falling in love with her, but then he met Lina and forgot all about his budding interest in Karin.

Knutas was not the only one who had a hard time deciphering what Karin thought or felt about personal matters. She had a reserve as thick as armour, which meant that no one dared ask any questions about her private life, at least initially. Unless it had to do with football.

The strange thing was that Knutas himself found it so easy to talk to her, even though she was reticent about confiding in him. He often turned to Karin when he had problems with Lina or the children. She was always sympathetic and willing to listen. But if he later asked her about similar concerns, she was always evasive. Yet he was still very fond of her, and he sometimes worried that she might look for a more challenging job. Although Karin had worked on the Visby police force for sixteen years, he wouldn’t feel secure until her personal life prompted her to settle down permanently. As things now stood, if she met someone over on the mainland, she’d be gone. Or if she was offered a job that she couldn’t refuse.

Sometimes he felt like her father, even though there were only thirteen years between them. Knutas had become dependent on having Karin Jacobsson as part of the team, and he certainly didn’t want to lose her.

She paused for a moment before answering his question.

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘Sure?’

Her expression was inscrutable as she met his gaze.

‘Of course. I’m fine.’

Even though he could see that something was bothering her, he knew better than to ask any more questions.