Karim stops himself.
Looks Malin deep in the eyes, right into her tiredness, and lets what he was about to say drop.
Instead: ‘How’s Tove getting on in Bali?’
Malin smiles: ‘Fine, last time I spoke to her. Thanks for asking. But it’ll be good to have her home again.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ Karim says.
And Malin knows that he wants to say something about the Islamists on the island, knows that he practically loathes them for making life difficult for anyone whose appearance suggests that they could be Arabic.
It is exactly half past eight.
The air conditioning in the meeting room is grumbling unhappily, the four of them sitting around the table, the blinds in the windows facing the playground pulled down to keep the light out.
Four officers.
A Monday morning, after a weekend at work for three of them. Tiredness is creeping up on her, in spite of the adrenalin that an important case always releases.
One police chief, one preliminary investigator and two inspectors, far too few for a case of this significance, and all four of them know it; and they know that holidays will be cancelled or colleagues from neighbouring districts called in. Or there’s another option.
Sven Sjoman is the first to speak: ‘There are far too few of us to handle this, we know that. My suggestion is that we call in National Crime, to save us interrupting our colleagues’ holidays or calling in people from other districts.’
‘Not National Crime,’ Karim says, and Malin knew that was what he was going to say. ‘I’ve checked with Motala, Mjolby and Norrkoping. We can have Sundsten from Motala and Ekenberg from Mjolby. Norrkoping is understaffed as it is, so they can’t let us have anyone. But Sundsten and Ekenberg will be here today, tomorrow at the latest. Borje’s in Africa and Johan’s away with his family, somewhere in Smaland, I believe.’
‘Ekenberg,’ Zeke exclaims. ‘Do we really want that idiot here?’
Malin knows what Zeke means. Waldemar Ekenberg is infamous for being completely reckless in his work, and he’s also infamous for getting away with it in all the internal investigations that follow. But he isn’t without his admirers and supporters in the force: Waldemar Ekenberg certainly gets things done when they need to be done.
‘We have to take the people that are available,’ Sven says. ‘I shall be keeping an eye on Ekenberg personally.’
‘And Sundsten? Who’s that?’
‘Some bright young thing. He spent a year in crime in Kalmar before moving to Motala. Supposed to be pretty smart.’
‘Good,’ Zeke says. ‘We need all the help we can get.’
‘You’re right there,’ Malin says.
‘The more I think about these two cases,’ Zeke goes on, ‘the messier everything gets, sort of hazy. It’s a bit like looking at a fire, and just when you think you’ve fixed your eyes on a flame, it’s gone.’
Sven takes a deep breath, which makes him cough badly, turning his already red face a shade darker, and Malin worries that this heat is about to mess with Sven’s already hard-pressed heart.
‘So,’ Karim says. ‘What have we got and what do we know? Can you give me an update?’
‘Malin?’
Sven hasn’t recovered from his fit of coughing.
‘We have two crimes,’ Malin says. ‘Although we’re basically convinced we’re dealing with one and the same perpetrator.
‘On Thursday morning Josefin Davidsson was found, disorientated, in the Horticultural Society Park, raped with something that seems likely to have been a blue-coloured dildo. She had a number of wounds, probably inflicted by a knife. Her body was scrubbed clean with bleach, and the wounds carefully washed. She’s still in the University Hospital and doesn’t remember anything about what happened, or what led up to it. The sexual nature of the crime led us to check out a recently released sex offender, but he has a solid alibi. A door-to-door of the surrounding flats hasn’t given us anything. No one saw or heard anything. And no witnesses have come forward. The presumed use of the dildo led us to look into the possibility that the perpetrator is female, possibly from the city’s lesbian community, where the use of dildos could be fairly widespread. This line of inquiry led us to Louise ‘Lollo’ Svensson, who refused us entry to her home, which is why we applied for a search warrant – the search was carried out yesterday. And produced absolutely nothing. She suggested in passing that presumably now we were going to talk to, quote, “the whole fucking women’s football team”. Forensics are checking her computer at the moment to see if there’s anything to go on there, for instance if she’s the person behind Lovelygirl on Theresa Eckeved’s Facebook page.’
Malin falls silent.
Hesitates.
Says nothing about the line of inquiry that led her and Zeke to the unfortunate Paul Anderlov. Never mind. He should be left in peace.
Instead she goes on: ‘How we got to what we know is in the reports, although of course I’m protecting the identity of my sources. We’ve also checked out Ali Shakbari and Behzad Karami. But they’ve got alibis as well, albeit provided by their families.’
‘I already know that,’ Karim snaps, evidently annoyed all over again at the suggestion of prejudice in this line of inquiry.
‘I’m just trying to update you, Karim,’ Malin says calmly. ‘So that you can make a splendid statement, sorry, truthful statement to the journalists.’
‘Let her carry on,’ Zeke says.
‘Then yesterday Theresa Eckeved was found murdered at the beach at Stavsatter. She had been buried, wrapped in ordinary transparent bin-bags, but a dog belonging to one of the bathers still managed to catch the scent. From a quick preliminary investigation Karin Johannison at National Forensics says that Theresa Eckeved was also abused with what seems to have been a blue dildo, which is why we’re fairly convinced that these cases are linked. The cause of Theresa Eckeved’s death was strangulation, but she had also received a blow to the head from a blunt object. She appears to have been killed at the beach. And she was scrubbed clean as well, according to Karin’s analysis, using bleach, just like Josefin Davidsson. And her wounds were obsessively cleaned, trimmed with a very sharp, and very precise object, possibly a scalpel.’
‘So we’ve got a lunatic on the loose in the city?’
Malin is taken aback by how blunt Karim is being, he doesn’t usually use such straightforward language.
‘Looks like it,’ Zeke says.
‘A person,’ Malin says. ‘Don’t use the word lunatic. A damaged, sick individual.’
And she thinks of the girls’ wounds, how they are similar yet different, as if they illustrated an almost tentative approach to violence.
‘A scalpel,’ Karim says, breaking her train of thought. ‘So who would have a scalpel?’
‘Possibly a scalpel,’ Malin says. ‘Possibly. A scalpel is chemical, clean, like chlorine. You can buy them from any chemist.’
‘Do we need to give Josefin Davidsson any protection?’ Karim goes on to ask.
‘If the killer wanted her dead, he would probably already have made sure of that,’ Sven says. ‘She didn’t seem to be in any fit state to escape, or to have actually done so.’
‘We’ll have to check with her parents,’ Karim says, before going on: ‘The pair of you have made a lot of progress.’
‘Yes, you have,’ Sven agrees.
‘But we haven’t got anywhere.’
Zeke drums his fingers on the table.
‘Zeke, she was only found yesterday,’ Sven says.
‘Theresa, yes, but we’ve had longer to work on Josefin Davidsson. And we still don’t even know who called us about her.’
