The killer's art

51

The next step in his plan was now decided, and his head was filled with all sorts of ideas. Earlier in the day he had rung the funeral director to find out when Egon Wallin was going to be buried. The funeral wouldn’t be for another two weeks, which gave him plenty of time to make his preparations. He was thinking of attending; wearing a disguise, naturally, so that nobody would recognize him. He was longing for that day. To see everyone without anyone seeing him. He felt a flutter of anticipation in his stomach as he pictured the whole scene in his mind.

Right now he was alone, and there was something he had to do today. He went down to the cellar storage room and took out the canvas that he’d hidden there. Luckily he didn’t run into any of his neighbours. He quickly returned to his flat and then carefully unrolled the canvas on the living-room floor. Several weeks before the theft, he had ordered a custom-made frame that would be the right size.

Just as he was about to put the first nail in the frame, the phone rang. Annoyed at being interrupted, he glanced up and let it ring a few more times, thinking he might not answer. But then he dropped the hammer and stood up.

Right at this moment, he thought after the conversation was over. To think he would call at this very moment. It had to be fate.

Then he spent a long time carefully attaching the canvas to its new frame. When he was done, he leaned the painting against the wall, took a few steps back and regarded his handiwork.

He was more than satisfied.