Irene explained the unfortunate circumstances that had brought her to the office that Sunday morning. When she mentioned Hans Borg’s name, Birgitta’s face clouded over.
“Andersson is going to let him off. He called me yesterday and said he and Bergstrom had decided to let Hannu Rauhala and Borg switch jobs. On paper, Borg is still with us in the Violent Crime Division. But the exchange is made already.”
“So no internal investigation?”
“Nope. The bosses say that there’s already too much bad publicity. It wouldn’t look good after the incident with the woman walking her dog in Stockholm.”
“You and I both know that similar incidents happen all the time that never get reported to the media.”
“That’s exactly what I told Andersson. Unfortunately, I got really upset and said a few things I probably shouldn’t have. But I was so damned disappointed. Andersson told me to think everything over. If I argued too much, he’d consider moving me, too.”
Irene contemplated her colleague. “So what you’re after is revenge on Hans Borg?”
“Of course! He made my life hellish for years.”
“Then you want to move to another department?”
Birgitta stiffened. “No.”
“Well, then listen to me. Forget fantasies of revenge. Of course what Borg did was disgusting. But if bosses feel backed into a corner, they’ll lash out. At you. If you keep pushing, you’ll be transferred, and there will be a write-up in your file about how uncooperative you are to work with. They’ll bury you in the bowels of the department without a chance of any career advancement.”
Birgitta didn’t answer.
Irene continued calmly. “This whole time you’ve kept your cool. Wait it out. Don’t show your feelings.”
“So if they smell blood, they’ll attack, is that what you’re saying?”
“Something like that.”
The atmosphere became tense. Finally Birgitta broke the silence. “Finish your report on the Guldheden incident, and I’ll take over.”
“I’ve already written up my questioning of the neighbor, Johanna Storm, as well as my report of the crime scene.”
Irene pulled the disc from the computer and handed it to Birgitta, who took it without looking at her. With a curt “Thanks,” she disappeared into the hallway.
THE HOUSE WAS empty and silent. Krister had taken Sammie for a walk. The rain poured down in sheets outside so solid it looked like laundry hanging between the trees. Irene gratefully crawled into bed at ten in the morning. Before she fell asleep, she set her alarm for two hours later.
WHEN IRENE WOKE up, Krister had already left for Glady’s and Sammie was in his dog bed, his paws in the air, almost dry from his walk in the rain. On the other hand, Krister had gotten his half of the bedsheets so wet they needed to be hung up to dry so that they would no longer be damp that evening. Irene felt as if she were hungover, an effect of sleeping during the day. A long shower alternating between hot and cold water helped her wake up. Since her mother’s lunches tended to be filling, all she needed was a cup of tea and a hardtack sandwich for breakfast before she headed out to teach the women’s class. Sammie had to come, too, and wait in the car. He was so thrilled to realize he was going for a car ride that he hardly took the time to lift his leg on the spirea bushes along the garage wall. In Sammie’s mind the car was his, though he was generous enough to let his masters drive him.
IRENE’S MOTHER, GERD, still lived in the apartment she and her husband had bought when Irene was born. The three-story brick town houses lining the hill along Doktor Bex Gata always brought back memories of Irene’s childhood. In those days people thought of it as the outer suburbs, but now Guldheden was considered centrally located.
The wind blew stronger up here, and the rain came down harder. Even Sammie didn’t think a walk would be pleasurable, and he hurried up the stairs.
“Hello. My, how late you are. I called, but there was no answer, so I thought that you were already on your way here. But when you still hadn’t arrived, I thought something might have happened and—”
“Hi, Mama. Do you have a towel for Sammie? I forgot to bring one.” Irene said this to stop her mother’s habitual tirade. Maybe she was just lonely? No, Irene told herself, in order to placate her conscience. Her mother had always found ways to keep active.
Lunch was a wonderful flounder gratin with heaps of fresh shrimp, and they both enjoyed it. They were drinking coffee afterward when her mother suddenly said, “In three weeks I’m traveling to the Canary Islands.”
This took Irene totally by surprise, but she managed to stammer, “How … nice.” As far as she knew, her mother had never traveled to anywhere but Denmark.
Gerd took a deep breath and looked her only daughter in the eye. “We, I should say. Sture and me.”
“Who’s Sture?”
“A man I met at the tea dances. You know I go there every Thursday.”
“How long … have you …?”
“Known each other? Half a year. He started coming to the dances last fall. His wife died two years ago, and he had a tough first year, but then he began to go out and meet other people. And then we met at the dances … and, so … that’s how we met.”
“But why didn’t you say anything to me? He could have joined us at Christmas—”
“Last Christmas he was with his daughter in Orebro and I was with you. And New Year’s Eve he was with his son here in Goteborg. But we had a nice Twelfth Night together.”
Her mother’s cheeks turned pink. It was a strange feeling to be sitting across the table from her newly in love, almost-seventy-year-old mother.
“How old is he?” Irene asked.
“Seventy-two. He’s healthy and active. Though he does have a little asthma.”
“What’s his full name?”
“Sture Hagman. He’s a retired postmaster. He lives on Syster Emmas Gata. He sold his house after his wife passed.”
Now it was almost time to pick up the twins. Irene hugged her mother and wished her happiness with Sture.
IT WAS HARD to find parking. Irene had to circle around for quite some time before she found a spot. Once they entered the elegant train station, Sammie’s little terrier heart rejoiced at all the new people. The hissing, braking train inspired him to go for much bigger game than his usual mopeds. Irene scolded him and tried to calm him.
The train from Karlstad pulled in to the station, and Katarina and Jenny were the first ones out the door. Sammie was beside himself with joy and had no intention of listening to nonsense about behaving.
The girls looked happy and healthy. After hugs and kisses, they began to tell their stories about what had happened on vacation, speaking over each other. Irene listened with half an ear, her attention drawn to the headlines posted on the Press-byran newspaper kiosk.
WHY WAS NURSE MARIANNE MURDERED? WHERE IS NURSE LINDA? TIME IS RUNNING OUT!
In her own mind, Irene added a few more headlines: WHERE IS MAMA BIRD, AKA GUNNELA HAGG? AND WHY DID THE GARDEN SHED BURN? And another one: WHY DID NURSE MARIANNE HAVE NURSE LINDA’S DAY PLANNER IN HER POCKET? Irene had the strong feeling that she did not really want to know the answer to that last question. But of course she did. That was part of the job.
