traces of paint found in her vagina are identical to those found in the earlier victims. And the cause of death was strangulation. Forensics are looking at her computer, and the lists of calls to and from her mobile are on their way.’
Sven lets his words sink in.
Nothing is easy in this case, they’re not getting anything for free.
‘And still nothing from Facebook or Yahoo!. They seem to be mainly concerned with protecting the confidentiality of their clients.’
‘There’s nothing we can do to pressurise them? What about the courts?’ Zeke wonders.
‘We could certainly make a legal request. But they could always appeal. And it’s hard to know where the information would be. Who do you hold responsible for a server on the Cayman Islands?’
Sven changes the subject.
‘As far as the dildo is concerned, Forensics have ruled out three hundred and fifty models. That’s if it is even a dildo.’
‘What about Sofia Freden’s wounds?’ Zeke asks. ‘Has Karin been able to say exactly what caused them?’
‘Animal claws. But apparently it’s impossible to say which animal.’
‘Louise Svensson keeps rabbits on her farm,’ Malin says. ‘And rabbits have claws.’
‘Loads of people in this city have rabbits and other animals with claws,’ Sven says. ‘And you can buy those necklaces of animal claws at any market.’
Malin nods.
‘I know, it was a long shot.’
‘Anything else?’
Sven turns to face Malin and Zeke.
‘We spoke to Slavenca Visnic,’ Malin says. ‘And there’s a connection between her and two of the girls. She has no alibi, but we haven’t got anything concrete.’
Malin explains the connections, that Theresa was found near one of the kiosks and that Josefin had worked at another one, which could mean something to the case, or could just as easily be coincidence, even if that would be unusual.
‘It makes me uneasy,’ Malin says.
‘Synchronicity has driven loads of officers mad,’ Per Sundsten says. ‘Connections that exist but that turn out to be completely meaningless. So where do we go with that?’
‘We’ll bear it in mind, but we carry on working without any preconceptions.’
‘Hardcore police work,’ Zeke says. ‘That’s what counts now.’
‘I’d like to talk to Theresa Eckeved’s friend, Nathalie Falck, again,’ Malin says. ‘It feels as if she’s not telling us everything we ought to know. Maybe she’ll talk now, seeing as things have got worse. I don’t think we’d get anything more from Peter Skold, her supposed boyfriend.’
‘Talk to her,’ Karim says. ‘From where we are now, we’ve got nothing to lose.’
‘And we’ve just received the file about Louise “Lollo” Svensson from the archive,’ Zeke says, and Malin gives him an angry glance, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned it.
‘Calm down, Malin,’ Zeke says. ‘No need to get excited,’ and the others laugh, and the laughter relieves the tension in the room, making the sense of hopelessness less pervasive, as they seem to clamber one circle higher away from the investigative hell they are all in.
‘I only got them five minutes before the meeting. Otherwise I would have shown you first.’
Zeke usually gets annoyed when Malin goes off on her own track, and on the rare occasions when he has done so she gets unreasonably cross, cursing him and behaving like a unfairly treated child.
‘I wouldn’t dare do anything else.’ And now they’re all laughing again, at my expense, Malin thinks, but there’s warmth in their laughter, a pleasant warmth, not like this tormenting summer heat. And Malin thinks they could do with this laughter, she needs it, needs to hear that someone isn’t taking this so incredibly seriously.
‘Shut up, Zeke,’ and by now even Sven is laughing, until Zeke clears his throat and seriousness settles across the room once more.
‘Evidently her mother accused her step-father of abusing her, but the case never got anywhere. She must have been twelve at the time, if these dates are right.’
‘Not surprising,’ Malin says. ‘Just think, this sort of crap always comes up.’ Then Malin thinks about what Viveka Crafoord said: that the perpetrator could well have been the victim of abuse. Isn’t that always the case? One way or another. That one act of abuse leads to another. The trail goes as far back through history as human life itself.
‘OK, but we can’t question her again because of that,’ Sven says. ‘We’ve leaned on her enough as it is, and there are almost as many sordid backgrounds and family histories as there are people.’
Karim looks focused, and Malin can see the thoughts racing through his head. The image of his own father must be in there, committing suicide in his despair at his failure to find a place in Swedish society, the father who died bitter in a way that you, Karim, would never allow yourself to be, and Malin thinks of the cliche her mother always used to trot out at the slightest failure or disappointment: ‘It’s not what happens that matters, it’s how you deal with it.’
Then the words of the philosopher Emile Cioran come to mind: ‘Nothing reveals the vulgar man better than his refusal to be disappointed.’
Are you the most disappointed person in the world, Mum?
Tenerife.
But back to the present.
‘Hypnosis,’ Malin says. ‘I’d like to question Josefin Davidsson under hypnosis,’ and now it’s Zeke’s turn to look angry, questioning: What’s this? I knew you were thinking about it, but we could have discussed it first.
‘We all know that it’s possible to remember things under hypnosis that you don’t otherwise remember. I’m friends with Viveka Crafoord, the psychoanalyst, and she’s offered to conduct an interview with Josefin under hypnosis, free of charge.’
Waldemar Ekenberg laughs.
‘Well,’ he goes on to say, ‘sounds like a good idea.’
‘This mustn’t get out to the press. They’ll say that we’re desperate,’ Karim says. ‘And we don’t want that.’
‘Discretion is assured,’ Malin says. ‘Viveka works under an oath of confidentiality.’
Zeke has got over his sudden annoyance.
‘Will her parents agree?’
‘We don’t know until we ask.’
‘And Josefin?’
‘Ditto.’
‘If it happens, and if it works, it could help us move forward,’ Sven says.
‘It could be the breakthrough we need,’ Karim adds.
‘So what are we waiting for?’ Waldemar asks. ‘Get the girl to the fortune-teller!’
And Malin doesn’t know what to say, can’t decide if the hard-case from Mjolby is joking or means what he says. A joke to smooth things over: ‘Hocus-pocus,’ Malin says, getting up from her chair. ‘OK, I’m going to go and stick some pins in a voodoo doll, Waldemar, so watch out.’
Ekenberg comes over to her desk after the meeting.
What does he want? Malin wonders.
‘Fors,’ he says, ‘you look happy.’
‘Happy?’
‘Yes, you know, like you’ve just been fucked. Where do you go if you want to get a fuck in this town?’
And once again Malin doesn’t know what to say, or do, hasn’t felt so surprised since she was three years old and took a drink from a cup of hot water, thinking it was juice.
Shall I punch him on the chin?
Then she pulls herself together.
