The killer's art

25

At the meeting later in the day, Knutas informed the investigative team of Martin Kihlgard’s imminent arrival. His announcement was met with scattered applause.

The cheerful, boisterous inspector from the NCP was not only a skilled officer but also a clown who had lightened the mood at many a dismal morning meeting when an investigation had seemed at its most hopeless. One person who was particularly fond of him was Karin Jacobsson, and right now she was beaming. Knutas hadn’t seen her look so happy in a long time. Occasionally he thought the two of them might be sweethearts. At the same time, the very idea of those two as a couple seemed ridiculous. Karin weighed only half as much as Kihlgard and she hardly reached up to his chest. He was also fifteen years older; not that the age difference would in itself be a hindrance. But Kihlgard seemed much older, as if he belonged to a different generation. Knutas thought he actually bore a strong resemblance to the old slapstick film star Thor Modeen from the forties. Sometimes they seemed ludicrously alike. But Kihlgard’s jovial exterior was deceptive. He was an incisive police detective: tough, analytical and completely fearless.

When the excitement over the welcome news had died down, the meeting continued with a discussion of what had been uncovered so far. Thomas Wittberg had been out knocking on doors and had gathered some interesting information from Snackgardsvagen, where the Wallins lived.

‘First of all, it appears that Monika Wallin has a lover,’ Wittberg began.

‘Is that right?’ said Knutas in surprise.

He hadn’t picked up any clue that something like this was going on when he had interviewed Egon Wallin’s widow the previous day.

Everyone sitting at the table was paying close attention.

‘She’s sleeping with a neighbour, Rolf Sanden. He lives in the same row of terraced houses. He’s been a widower for a number of years, and his children have all moved away. He’s a construction worker who took early retirement. Apparently they’ve been fooling around for years, according to the neighbours. Just about everyone said the same thing, except for an old woman who seemed almost blind and deaf, so it’s not so strange that she hadn’t noticed anything. If Egon Wallin knew nothing about their affair, then he was the only one in the whole neighbourhood.’

‘The neighbour, Rolf Sanden — have you got hold of him?’ Knutas asked Wittberg.

‘You bet. He’d just come home from the mainland when I rang the bell, but he was on his way out again. I made an appointment to interview him tomorrow. At any rate, he was quite talkative and readily admitted to his affair with Monika Wallin. Considering the circumstances, I thought his behaviour rather odd; he seemed almost exhilarated. It seems crazy to act so happy when your neighbour and the husband of your mistress has just been murdered. He should have at least pretended to show some sympathy.’

‘He probably sees his chance now,’ said Jacobsson. ‘Finally able to make their relationship public after all the sneaking around in secret. Maybe he’s really in love with Monika Wallin and has been waiting to take her to the altar.’

‘Maybe he’s the one who did it,’ Norrby interjected.

‘Well, it’s possible,’ said Wittberg. ‘Provided it wasn’t the wife, of course.’

‘Or both of them,’ growled Sohlman in a ghoulish voice, holding up his hands like a vampire ready to attack.

Knutas stood up abruptly. Sometimes all the wild speculating that went on got on his nerves.

‘The meeting is adjourned,’ he said and left the room.