The killer's art

31

The fact that the Wallin home was cordoned off and searched by the police did not go unnoticed by the media. The neighbours had seen the paintings being carried out of the storage room, and a rumour that they’d been stolen instantly began circulating.

‘I had a hunch about this whole thing,’ said Pia eagerly as they drove towards Snackgardsvagen. ‘I knew there was something fishy about Egon

Wallin.’

When they arrived, the area around the house was swarming with activity. The site had been blocked off and several police cars were parked outside. A group of neighbours was boldly watching the police go about their work. Johan caught a glimpse of Monika Wallin through the kitchen window. He felt sorry for her.

He went over to one of the officers who was standing guard. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘I’m not answering that question. You’ll have to talk to the police spokesman or the head of the investigation, Anders Knutas.’ ‘Is either of them here?’

‘No.’

‘Can’t you at least explain why you’ve blocked off the area?’

‘A discovery has been made on the property that is of interest to the police. That’s all I can tell you.’

‘Does this have to do with stolen paintings?’

The officer’s expression didn’t change. ‘I’m not at liberty to say anything more.’

Johan and Pia tried talking to some of the neighbours, but they could say only that they’d had no idea the Wallins were hiding stolen paintings in their house. But several of them told Johan to talk to the area’s gossip queen, who lived at the very end of the block. If anyone knew anything about this, she would.

The woman, who looked to be at least eighty, opened the door even before they rang the bell. She was tall and thin, with her silver hair pulled back in a chignon. The dress she wore was quite elegant, as if she were about to go out.

‘What’s this about?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘Are you from the police? I’ve already told them everything I know.’

The woman didn’t seem to take in the fact that Pia was holding a big TV camera.

They introduced themselves.

‘You’re from the television station? Well, I never.’

She laughed with embarrassment and automatically reached up to smooth her hair. ‘Ingrid Hasselblad,’ she introduced herself, stretching out her skinny arm to shake hands. Her fingernails were neatly manicured and painted red. Suddenly she threw the door wide open.

‘Come in, come in. May I offer you a cup of coffee?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

Johan and Pia exchanged looks. Coffee often meant that the interview would take longer than really necessary, but this time it might be worth it.

She showed them into the living room. There was a marvellous view, with the sea so close that it felt as if the waves might splash up against the window.

‘Excuse me for a moment.’

The woman disappeared. When she came back with the coffee tray, Johan noticed that she’d touched up her lipstick and added a bit too much rouge to her cheeks.

The coffee was weak and the almond cakes dry, but both Pia and Johan said how good they tasted.

‘Doesn’t that hurt?’ Ingrid Hasselblad asked Pia, pointing at the gemstone in her nostril.

‘No, not at all. I can’t even feel it.’ Pia smiled.

‘That seems to be the fashion nowadays. It’s not something that older folks like me can understand.’ She brushed away a crumb from her dress. ‘I was a model in my younger days. But that was a long time ago.’

‘We’d just like to ask you a few questions — about the Wallins,’ said Johan, thinking that he’d had enough of the chit-chat. ‘Would it be all right if we filmed you while we talk?’

‘Go ahead. That should be no problem.’

Ingrid Hasselblad straightened her back and smiled at the camera, as if she thought she was posing for a still photograph.

‘Let’s just pretend that the camera isn’t here, and it’s just you and me talking,’ said Johan.

‘By all means.’

Ingrid Hasselblad didn’t move from the pose she had taken, a rigid smile on her lips.

‘OK, if you wouldn’t mind just turning to face me,’ Johan directed her, ‘and we’ll do a little practice run before we turn on the camera. Just to get in the right frame of mind.’ He signalled to Pia to start filming. ‘What did you see at the home of Egon Wallin?’

‘Earlier today I was out shopping and happened to walk past their house. That’s when several policemen came out of the Wallin storage room carrying paintings.’

‘What did the officers do with the paintings?’

‘They carried them over to a police car. The paintings were covered up, but when they placed one of them inside the car, the covering slipped off and I got a peek at it.’

‘Do you know what kind of painting it was?’

‘I’m not sure, but it looked like a Zorn.’

‘Can you describe the painting?’

‘It was of two plump women with white skin, the way they always look in a Zorn painting. There was green grass around them, and they were near a lake or a river. There was water, in any case.’

‘Have you ever noticed anything unusual going on at the Wallin house before?’

‘I’ve seen him carrying paintings in and out, but I never thought anything of it. They own an art gallery, you know. So it’s not so strange that he keeps works of art at home.’

‘Have you ever seen Monika Wallin carrying paintings?’

‘No-o-o,’ she replied hesitantly. ‘I don’t think I ever have.’

‘Is there anything else you can tell us?’

Now Ingrid Hasselblad blushed under her rouge. ‘Well, yes, there is something.’

Johan perked up. ‘What is it?’

‘That Monika, she’s been having an affair. With Rolf Sanden, who lives right next door to me.’ She nodded furtively at the wall. ‘They’ve been carrying on for several years now, meeting in the daytime when Egon was at work.’

‘Can you describe Rolf Sanden? What sort of person is he?’

‘He’s been a widower for a number of years. Oh, his wife was so nice and kind, but unfortunately she died in a car accident. Their children moved out long ago.’

‘Doesn’t he work in the daytime?’

‘He’s on a disability pension. Used to work in construction, but he injured his back. Even though he’s still a young man, only fifty. He had a big fiftieth birthday party last summer.’ She leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘He likes playing the horses, and I’ve heard that he’s addicted to gambling.’

‘Who told you that?’ Johan was listening with interest. This was getting better and better.

‘People talk. It’s common knowledge that Rolf Sanden is a notorious gambler. Everybody knows that.’

With an effort Ingrid Hasselblad twisted around to look at Pia. ‘Shouldn’t we get started now? I think I’d better go and touch up my lipstick.’