They could hear Andersson inhale sharply; color flared up in his face. Malm did not notice. “Yes, I’ve talked to the school of nursing. This brooch is from the H.M. Queen Sophia University College of Nursing in Stockholm.”
Malm noticed the odd looks on the faces around him, and his proud smile faded. Andersson seemed dangerously close to having a stroke. Malm sat quietly, wondering what kind of apoplexy this was and whether it would pass.
Andersson looked down at the table and said in a controlled voice, “Excuse me, Svante, it’s just that damned ghost coming to haunt us again.”
Malm knew enough not to ask any questions. He just nodded. “The woolen cloth on top of the rag heap is extremely interesting. I studied it all yesterday afternoon. The fibers we found on Marianne’s smock, as well as the ones that Tommy found on a pine branch, came from this wool, which seems to be part of a dress. We found buttons and what was apparently a belt made from the same fabric.”
If Malm had imagined that this information would have been accepted calmly, he now could see he was wrong. The officers around the table were leaping to their feet. Irene stared at the technician. Strange. Now we’re back to where we started. Lowander Hospital and Nurse Tekla’s ghost.”
“I’m a scientist. I would like to point out that my results indicate a living person. The talc on the victim’s underarms reveals that the murderer wore gloves. Threads and fabric remnants indicate a dress. The brooch is real. And what’s more, so is the fact of Marianne’s murder,” Malm said.
“Thank you for bringing us all back to earth,” the superintendent said darkly. He gave Irene a disgusted look. “From now on, no more talk of ghosts.”
Irene had not meant she really believed that it was a ghost, but she let it go. Instead she said, “I think Lowander Hospital is at the center of all this. Both Marianne’s murder and the disappearances of Linda and Mama Bird. The fire … it all goes back to the hospital.”
“Then I suggest you go back there and poke around some more. Tommy can keep searching for the bird lady. God knows whether she’s even important in this investigation.” The superintendent’s voice was sour.
But without knowing why, Irene believed in her bones that Gunnela Hagg was extremely important.
IRENE SAT AT her desk and stared, unfocused, at her computer screen. Absentmindedly, she sipped her fourth cup of coffee of the morning. The caffeine was beginning to have the desired effect; her thoughts were clearing. She suddenly thought of something no one else had. Marianne Svard was not the only person who had died that night. Nils Peterzen had been a fairly wealthy man. Perhaps the old banker was the intended victim and Marianne Svard had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Irene turned the idea over in her head. She found Doris Peterzen’s telephone number, lifted the receiver, and dialed. The line was picked up after two rings.
“Doris Peterzen.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Peterzen. It’s Criminal Inspector Irene Huss. We met after the sad event concerning your husband.”
“Good morning. Of course, I remember you. I’m sorry I was such a mess … but it was just too much. All of it.”
“I understand. I wonder if you have time to talk with me for a little while today.”
“Ye-ess … Goran and I are invited to lunch at one, but I could meet you before then.”
“Is Goran coming to you?”
“Yes, an hour before we have to leave. There are still many details we have to decide on about the funeral. Maybe that’s just as well. This way I don’t have to think so much.”
Irene looked at the clock. “I can be at your home in half an hour. Would eleven work for you?”
“That’ll be fine.”
They said their good-byes and hung up. Irene thought through the scenario again: The murderer sneaks into Lowander Hospital, dressed as the hospital ghost. He is just about to kill Nils Peterzen when Marianne Svard catches sight of him. The killer has to get rid of the night nurse because she would be able to recognize him. Perhaps she already knew him! Old bankers. A great deal of money. Often the sole motive for murder.
THE PETERZEN HOME was one of the largest and oldest houses in the area. It had been built on top of a hill and had a wonderful view of the ocean. It was somberly whitewashed, the black tile roof coated with a shimmer of frost. The pale sun did its best to thaw out the icy shell encasing Goteborg. At least it had warmed the air to above freezing.
Irene struck the door hard with the bronze lion’s-head knocker. The heavy oak door was opened by Doris Peterzen. She looked wonderful. Her silver-blond hair was combed into a thick pageboy. A necklace glimmered thinly over beautifully contoured decolletage. Her dove gray Thai silk dress matched her eyes perfectly.
Irene suddenly realized where she’d seen Doris Peterzen before. “It was kind of you to make time to speak to me.”
“Come on in. I wasn’t kind. I am angry. I want to know more about that ghost they wrote about in the newspaper. Was it really the person who sabotaged the electricity and stopped Nils’s respirator?”
Doris moved aside and let Irene in. She hung up Irene’s old, ratty leather coat next to her own beige mink without any reaction. Irene pulled off her brown boots furtively. They’d never looked worse than compared to Doris Peterzen’s elegant leather stiletto boots.
Her hostess walked before her through an airy hallway and into an enormous reception room, the whole west wall of which was made of glass and faced the ocean. Along one of the shorter walls was a lengthy dinner table surrounded by an incredible number of chairs. The view from the room was fantastic. Irene was taken by the bleak February sunshine glittering on the ocean’s lead-colored waves.
Doris Peterzen seemed used to the view. Without a single glance out the window, she invited Irene to sit down. They sat together on an oxblood sofa group of English design, less comfortable to sit on than to look at.
“Would you like a cigarette? We don’t have to be so formal.”
“No, thanks,” Irene said. “I don’t smoke. But informal is good.”
“Have you found out who shut off the electricity?”
“No. We know there was a witness, but we still haven’t tracked the person down.”
“Who is it?”
“I can’t tell you because it’s still part of the investigation.”
Doris Peterzen shook a long cigarette from a gold package. She needed both hands to lift the heavy crystal table lighter. She took a deep drag and blew out the smoke with evident enjoyment.
“The first time I saw you,” Irene began, “I thought I knew you from somewhere, and today I remembered. I’ve seen you in my mother’s magazines. You used to be a model.”
Doris Peterzen smiled weakly. “That was a long time ago. I was a successful model. Very much in demand during the sixties. During the seventies not as much. You age quickly in that field.”
“How long were you married to Nils?”
“Nineteen years. We met at a yacht-club ball.”
“Was he divorced?”
“No, a widower. His wife had died from cancer the previous year.”
“There’s a large age difference.…”
Doris Peterzen stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray that matched the table lighter. “Yes, people talked about it. There’s twenty-six years between us. They said I was marrying him for his money. But I really did love Nils. He gave me … peace. Love. I have Nils to thank for everything I have in life.”
“How did you choose Lowander Hospital for your husband’s operation?”
Doris’s beautiful face showed true surprise at Irene’s change of direction. It took her a moment to answer. The Peterzen family has always trusted Lowander for our medical procedures. Kurt Bunzler, the plastic surgeon, is our good friend and neighbor. He’s also helped me with a few things.”
She unconsciously touched the back of her ears with her fingertips. Irene had already concluded that the smooth skin and the sharp features were the work of a fine plastic surgeon, and now she knew who’d done the job. She briefly glanced at Doris’s perfect bustline and surmised that Dr. Bunzler had been doing his good work there, too.
“But Kurt Bunzler didn’t operate on your husband.”
“No, it was an inguinal hernia. Dr. Lowander does the normal surgery at the hospital. But the operation took longer than planned. Nils … bled a great deal. He obviously had adhesions that no one had expected. His lungs
