“The guy with the dog wants to talk to you,” she said.
They followed the nurse back through the surgical ward, where more nurses were making their way between the gurneys. Irene realized guiltily that neither she nor Tommy had remembered to put on blue plastic footies. The nurses cast disapproving glances at their street clothes and shoes. Irene picked up her pace.
In the hallway was the canine patrolman with his German shepherd. The dog did not turn its head when Tommy and Irene entered but kept staring at a nondescript door right next to the larger elevator. A deep growl rumbled in the dog’s throat.
Irene turned to the nurse. “Where does this door lead?”
“To an old attic storage area,” the nurse answered with a tremor in her voice. She swallowed before continuing. “It’s still used for storing stuff that isn’t used much. Christmas decorations and that kind of thing.”
The nurse looked from the door to the dog. “Oh, my God … that’s Nurse Tekla’s attic. I mean … the attic where Nurse Tekla died.”
FLOODLIGHTS ILLUMINATED LINDA Svensson’s body. She looked as if she were kneeling, her body hanging forward on the noose suspended from the ceiling beam, her calves touching the floor. Her long hair had fallen in front of her face. Beneath the window a rib-backed wooden chair rested on its side. Next to it was a red down jacket. The stench made it clear there need be no hurry to cut her down.
The technicians walked around taking photos from different angles. The police officers stood outside the attic room and watched the scene through the open door. The atmosphere was heavy, and no one wanted to break the silence.
The patient elevator hummed as it came to a stop and the door swished open.
“It looks like it’s time for me to set up a forensics branch right here at Lowander Hospital,” declared Yvonne Stridner.
It was entirely possible that she was trying to make a joke, but none of the officers laughed. Unperturbed, she scrutinized the hanging body as the technicians went about their work. Then she turned back to the officers, her expression grim.
“That’s our strong-armed murderer again. It’s hard work to pull up a dead body, even if, as in this case, the body was not raised to its full height. What frightens me the most about the three crimes here is the real cold- bloodedness of the killer. He seems to murder spontaneously.”
“You think he did in the homeless woman, too?” Andersson said with surprise.
“Yes. The first blow was perfect—immediate death. The victim had no chance to cry out. Then the body was hidden in a culvert. I call that cold-blooded. What if someone had happened by?”
“And Marianne?”
“Same thing there. Powerful strangulation and quick death. The body hidden where the killer already planned to take out the power. One tough guy.”
For once Andersson seemed to agree with Stridner. Mournfully, he nodded toward the hanging body. “How long has she been dead?”
“The attic is not heated, but it hasn’t been below freezing in here. My informed guess would be about a week.”
“So she died at the same time as Marianne,” Andersson concluded.
“Possibly. I’ll do the autopsy this afternoon.”
With a nod to no one in particular, the pathologist disappeared down the stairs, leaving the faint scent of Joy de Jean Patou in the air.
Andersson sneezed when the perfume tickled his nose. After he collected himself, he said, “We’re closing the hospital. The entire place will be combed through—every square inch. All operations must be halted, and every single person in this place will be interrogated. Everyone! The techs will keep working in the attic while we check the rest of this building.”
“Tommy and I made an appointment with Sverker Lowander right before Linda was discovered. Should we go ahead?” Irene asked.
“Do that. Birgitta, Fredrik, and Hannu will talk to everyone else in the operating ward. Jonny and I will take the care ward. Then we’ll all go through the basement. Although the only person down there is the security guard.”
“Let Tommy and me see him. We’ve talked to him before,” Irene said.
“Fine,” Andersson said. “Let’s go, then.”
TOMMY AND IRENE found Sverker Lowander back in the on-call apartment. He had sunk into the armchair, hands over his face. The noises coming from him sounded suspiciously like sobs. Irene and Tommy could think of nothing to say, so they let the doctor break the silence.
“What’s happening to my hospital? Who’s the crazy person running around here killing people?”
His last sentence sounded like a call for help, which it probably was. Irene saw his hands shake as he ran them through his hair. He was so beside himself that the police officers couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
Irene took the desk chair and turned it toward him. She sat down silently, while Tommy sat on the rumpled bed. Tommy cleared his throat and said, “Honestly, we don’t know. But it’s so serious we’ve decided to close the hospital today. We’ll do all we can to solve these … occurrences. We would be extremely grateful if you were up to answering a few questions. Or would you like to wait until later?”
Sverker Lowander shook his head. “No! Now! I want these murders solved! We can’t afford to close for long. It will break us financially.”
Tommy assessed him for a moment. “Perhaps that’s where we should start. If I’ve understood correctly, Lowander Hospital is in economic difficulties. How serious is it?”
Sverker Lowander sighed heavily. “Very serious. The hospital will soon be one hundred years old. It needs a new influx of cash. For example, we need to drill a well. It’s going to cost several hundred thousand crowns. The Civil Defense Corps has decided that all hospital facilities in the country must guarantee an in-house water supply in case of possible disruption to the water system. In addition, we have to install a drainage system around the entire building and replace all the old water pipes. The insurance company has condemned the old ones. The roof leaks and will have to be replaced. The copper tiles will cost me the shirt off my back. The safety engineer has given us six months to replace the ventilation in the operation ward. It no longer meets minimum standards for a hospital. During the renovation, activity must be shut down. So we have loss of income while employee salaries must still be paid. All of this together will cost at least five million crowns. That kind of money doesn’t exist.”
Tommy looked at the doctor in surprise. “Why is all this coming at once?”
Sverker Lowander stood up, mumbled an excuse, and went into the bathroom. The two police officers could hear him blow his nose and turn on the faucet. When he came out, Irene noticed that he’d washed his face and tried to fix his hair by wet-combing it. The result was not successful. But his eyes.… For a second, Irene met his gaze and found herself swirling into their sea-green depths. The man was dangerous!
An instant later that impression was gone; the man who drew up a chair appeared anything but a heartbreaker. Irene was ashamed of her thoughts and sat up straight.
“My father took care of all the investments and the renovations. He put a great deal of money into building that new stairwell so we could have a true hospital elevator. We moved the operation ward to the upper level and built the ICU,” he said.
“When was this?” Irene asked.
“Late fifties. He managed the financial side until his death, about fourteen years ago.”
Irene felt she had to ask another question to quell her curiosity. “Why is Kallberg Hospital in the black while you’re in the red?”
“They have much greater resources. They have specialists in all areas. They had money and investments and made their renovations before the crisis in health care. Now they are one of the most modern hospitals in Goteborg.”
“And Lowander Hospital?”
“Basically, we’re bankrupt.”
A long silence followed this revelation. Irene broke it by saying, “So what are you going to do?”
“No idea. No one wants to buy the building to run it as a hospital.” He laughed dryly. “Carina has the idea of
