The Princess of Burundi

Thirty-two

“Justice has been served,” Vincent Hahn said in a clear voice.

His firmness surprised Beatrice. She had expected the hesitant speech of a confused mind.

“I take it you realize that you have been arrested for two murders, unlawful entering, sexual harassment, and threat of violence?”

Vincent didn’t answer and Beatrice repeated her question.

“Yes,” he said at last.

“What do you mean by saying, ‘Justice has been served’?”

“You don’t understand? Now I can be at peace.”

“Did you know John Jonsson?”

“Yes.” The answer came quickly. “He belonged to the legion.”

“Which legion?”

“The legion of evildoers.”

“What do you have to say about his death?”

“It’s a good thing.”

Haver and Beatrice exchanged a look.

“Did you murder John Jonsson?”

“I stabbed him with a knife.”

Vincent made a stabbing motion with his hand, and a chill ran through both of the officers.

“Could you describe the knife?”

“A knife. A long knife. He did not get away. I stabbed him again and again.”

“Could you describe it in greater detail?”

“A knife that kills.”

“Do you still have it?”

Hahn fumbled in his right pants pocket.

“No,” he said. “I…It…”

“Did you throw it somewhere?”

“I don’t know. I had it in my coat.”

“Tell me how you met John.”

“I saw him on Vaksala torg, outside the school. He was close to me. I stabbed him.”

“Right there in the square?”

“I don’t know. Not that square.”

A note of insecurity sneaked into his voice again. He hesitated, looked away from the police officers, and rocked back and forth before continuing.

“He laughed, he laughed at me. He pointed. He was angry. Everyone was angry that day.”

“When was it?”

“It was…He was holding a Christmas tree.”

“A Christmas tree? He was buying a Christmas tree in Vaksala torg?”

“Did you talk?”

Beatrice’s and Haver’s questions overlapped.

“John never said anything to me. He was making fun of me.”

“You said you stabbed him with a knife. Where did you do this?”

“I stabbed him many times.”

“But where? On the square?”

“He chased me there once.”

“When you went to school, you mean?”

“He wasn’t a good man. The other one wasn’t good either.”

“Which other one?”

“The one with the cap. He was talking so loud. I don’t like it when people raise their voice.”

“Was he also there on the square?”

Hahn nodded.

“What did the man look like?”

Ola Haver was so impatient that he felt as if worms were crawling under his skin. Beatrice took a deep breath that afterward, when the tape was replayed, sounded like a desperate attempt to get air.

“He looked like a military man. I stood close to him in case John was going to make fun of him too.”

Here, Hahn paused.

“Could you describe his clothing?”

Silence.

“You wanted to protect him against John, is that what you mean?”

“Now I know I was right.”

“Right about what?”

“To take revenge. Justice.”

“What happened with the man and John?”

“They walked away with the Christmas tree.”

“Where?”

Hahn’s face now took on a pained expression. He slumped down in the chair and shut his eyes. Haver looked at the time. They had talked for fifteen minutes. How long would Hahn have the energy to keep going?

“Would you like some juice?”

“They walked up to the school, under the arch,” Hahn continued unexpectedly. “It echoed under there if you shouted.”

Haver had been to the Vaksala school to give a talk about drugs and had a clear memory of what it had looked like. The entrance to the school facing the square was a large archway leading to the school yard. On the other side was the cafeteria, which was being rebuilt. Another construction site, he thought, and the glimmer of something he had had felt during the meeting returned. There was something he had seen or heard. Was it all about construction sites? Construction at the hospital, and now construction at the school.

“Did you follow them through the arch?”

“Sometimes it smells like shit in there,” Hahn said. “Then I don’t like to go.”

“But this time you did?”

A new nod.

“John threw one at me.”

“A what?”

“A stink bomb.”

“But this time it didn’t smell, so you could walk through?”

“They put the tree in the car and I ran over to catch up.”

“And did you?”

Hahn raised his head and stared at Beatrice.

“Did you catch up to them?”

She was trying to sound friendly. He didn’t answer. The piercing gaze scared her. That swine murdered one of my colleagues, she thought. She repeated the word swine to herself again and again, steeled herself, and stared back.

Hahn’s head sank down.

“I want to go home,” he said.

Haver stood up, turned off the tape recorder, and nodded to the guard, who came over and grabbed Hahn’s arm. He let himself be led away. Haver put on the tape recorder again and quickly recorded a few words stating the end of the session.

“What do you think?” he asked Bea when he was done.

“I think he’s certifiably crazy, but I believe he really saw John in the square, maybe even on the day he was murdered. It could work. John leaves Micke Andersson, who lives right next to the square, decides to pick up a Christmas tree, or at least to look at them, bumps into someone who offers to drive him and the tree home. The car could very well have been parked in the school yard-is it possible to exit from the school yard in the evening?”

“I think so. There are exits both on Salagatan and Väderkvarnsgatan.”

“Who was the man who looked like he was in the military?”

“That’s the question. A military man, what does that mean? Was it his manner or his clothing, perhaps, that gave that impression?”

“What military presence is there in Uppsala?”

“We have the F-16 and F-20 Air Force squadrons,” Haver said. “But how many of them walk around in their uniforms when they’re off duty?”

“Maybe we should bring in some of their uniforms to show Hahn?”

“It could also be another kind of uniform, something that he thought was from the military.”

“Bus driver, parking police, there could be a number of uniforms he could have mistakenly identified as military.”

Haver rewound the tape and listened. Hahn’s voice sounded metallic on the tape, as if the recording had erased all emotion.

“What should we think?” Haver asked.

Beatrice stared at the wall. Haver was struck by the thought that for a short moment he felt like he was talking with Lindell. There was a discreet knock on the door. Fredriksson, Haver thought, but it was Sammy who gently pushed open the door and looked in.

“You’ve sent him back down,” he stated and walked in.

Haver played the tape one more time.

“It’s got to be him,” Sammy said when Haver turned it off.

“I’ll grant you a motive of sorts, but opportunity?” Haver said in a detached voice.

Beatrice glanced at him from the side. He takes on too much, she thought. It’s as if he thinks the outcome of the whole case rests on him. Maybe it’s Hollman’s death that’s pressing him further into exhaustion.

“And transporting the body to Libro-how did he manage that?” Beatrice asked.

“Those severed fingers,” Sammy said. “That was done by a sicko like Hahn.”

“But the transport,” Beatrice repeated.

“If he stabbed Little John in the school yard-he did say something about not that square, and the school yard works as a kind of square-maybe he was aided by the military man.”

“You’re reaching,” Beatrice said. “Why would a witness to the murder help Hahn transport the body to Libro?”

“They may have known each other.”

Beatrice shook her head.

“Perhaps he was forced,” Haver said. “Maybe Hahn threatened him.”

“Exactly,” Sammy said and got up. “He was threatened.”

“Why…Do you mean he was also murdered?”

Sammy nodded.

“Yes. There’s another dead body out there somewhere.”

They sat quietly for a while, trying to think through this scenario. It did not strike any of them as completely implausible.

“We need to question him again,” Sammy said.

“Of course we do,” Haver snapped. “What did you think? I’ll go talk to Ottosson.” Haver left the room before his colleagues had a chance to react.

“What got into him?” Sammy asked.

“He’s completely exhausted,” Beatrice said.

“He misses Rebecka,” Sammy stated in a tone that Beatrice didn’t like.

“He’s been crying,” she said, then closed her notebook, and left the room without saying anything else.