“Good afternoon, Mrs. Berg—”
“Miss. Miss Berg.”
“Excuse me. Miss Berg. We’ve received a call at the station about a cat howling incessantly in the apartment next door.”
The door opened, and Irene could get a better view of the apartment’s inhabitant. There wasn’t much to see. The elderly lady was less than five feet tall. Her scanty white hair was pulled together at the back into what looked like a rat’s tail. She was bent and so thin that she seemed almost transparent. Her frail hand with its blue veins quivered on the door handle, a movement that traveled through her entire body.
“It wasn’t me that called. But I’ve certainly heard that cat. It’s been going on since early this morning. Doesn’t bother me, though. I hardly ever sleep these days.”
The elderly woman’s voice was surprisingly steady and clear, but she seemed barely able to stand. Irene felt she had to hurry her questions. “What about its owner? Have you seen or heard her?”
“No. Miss Svensson is a nurse at Lowander Hospital, and I never know what her hours are,” the old lady said.
“I see. When was she home last?”
The wrinkles on the small face puckered in thought. Then she smiled, such a large smile that her dentures slipped.
“Last night.” Miss Berg paused for a minute to suck her teeth back into place. “She was home late last night. She always plays her music too loud. I’ve argued with them. The young man has just moved out, but I used to argue with him, too. We have a rule. After ten they’re supposed to turn down the music. They usually keep to the agreement.”
“Did Linda do that last night?”
“Yes, two minutes past ten, she turned the music down. Then she turned it off and left.”
“When was that?”
“About eleven-thirty.”
Irene felt worry harden in her chest, but she worked to hide it so she wouldn’t upset the old woman. “Does Linda usually go out so late?”
“Sometimes she goes out with Belker.”
“Who’s Belker?”
“The cat.”
Of course the cat.
“She takes him out in a little harness,” Miss Berg explained.
“Did she return very late last night?”
“Come to think of it, I didn’t hear her come home at all. The first thing she does when she comes through the door is to turn on the music, no matter what time it is. Sometimes the TV, too. At the same time.” Miss Berg snorted to emphasize her opinion about this noise pollution.
Irene thought about her own fourteen-year-old twin girls. She said nothing at all.
The old woman continued. “I haven’t heard any more music or anything else coming from there since she went out last night. And I didn’t hear her arrive home. I usually do.”
Irene didn’t doubt that for a minute. She was certain that something was wrong. “So nothing at all from next door.”
“No. Just the cat meowing and meowing. He’s probably hungry. Poor thing.”
Irene tactfully explained the situation to the old woman. “It’s a little worrying that Linda has not come home. I’ll have a locksmith pay a visit. We need to get inside and see to poor … Belker.”
Miss Berg nodded with enthusiasm. “You do that. Belker is a wonderful cat. He’s one of a kind, like all Siamese.”
“I’ll phone right away for the locksmith,” Irene said pleasantly as she tapped in the numbers for the emergency dispatcher.
“Dispatch. Detective Rolandsson.”
“Hi, Inspector Irene Huss here. We’ve gotten a complaint from a neighbor that a cat has been howling all day. The owner hasn’t been seen since late last night, and she also has not shown up at work today. I need to get in to check on her. Can you send a locksmith?”
“All right. Who is making the complaint?”
Irene took her phone away from her ear and whispered to Miss Berg.
“What’s your first name?”
“Ruth,” Miss Berg said hesitantly.
“Ruth Berg,” Irene spoke into the phone. She gave Rolandsson the address and clicked off.
“But I didn’t make a complaint!” Ruth Berg looked somewhat resentful.
“I know. It’s just procedure. Now everything will go faster. For Belker’s sake,” Irene added.
The old woman’s face softened at the mention of the cat’s name. “I see. Something must have happened, but don’t ask me to go on any witness stand.”
Irene reassured her that that would be highly unlikely. She jerked her thumb toward the door of Linda Svensson’s other neighbor. “Who lives there?”
“Nobody,” Ruth Berg sniffed. “Not right now. An old man lived there until he couldn’t take care of himself any longer. Finally, right after Christmas, they had to put him in a nursing home. He got filthy. Did his business anywhere he pleased, not in a toilet like normal people. Now they’ll have to renovate the whole place before they can rent it out again.”
Irene was reluctant to ask her next question. “Miss Berg, may I have your age, please?”
At first it seemed as if Ruth Berg did not intend to answer. Eventually, though, she shrugged and sighed. “Ninety-one next month. But no one’s coming here to celebrate it. I live all alone. Everyone else has passed on. Sometimes I believe that our Lord has forgotten me.” Miss Berg fell silent. Then she said, “I really can’t stand up and answer questions any longer. If you need anything else, please ring the bell again.”
Miss Berg closed her door. Irene could hear the rattling of the chain and then the thud of the bolt.
WHILE SHE WAITED for the locksmith, Irene called Lowander Hospital to check in with the superintendent. Linda Svensson still had not shown up at work. She also had not been admitted to any emergency room, Chief Inspector Andersson reassured Irene, mentioning that he’d placed those calls himself. The fact that Linda hadn’t been seen since last night worried him also.
“Please don’t tell me that another nurse has become a victim!” he said.
THE LOCKSMITH ARRIVED and easily unlocked the door, letting Irene inside. She carefully shut the door behind her so Belker couldn’t get out, then switched on the ceiling lamp in the small entry hall. The cat was nowhere to be seen. He’d obviously gone into hiding. On the right there was a tiny bathroom, directly ahead a small kitchen, and to the left of the kitchen was the entrance to a large living room with a sleeping alcove. All the rooms were tidy. The furniture was mostly from IKEA, and splashy movie and theater posters had been framed and hung on the walls. The whole impression was functional, youthful, and pleasant.
There was no trace of Linda. Irene called the chief inspector again to let him know. His only response was a deep sigh.
Irene found the litter box next to the shower stall, and it reeked. She had no idea how to take care of a cat, since she’d owned only dogs, but she expected that the sand in the box had to be changed and the cat was certain to need some food.
Resolutely, Irene searched the kitchen cabinets until she found cans of cat food. She washed the two ceramic bowls she saw on the floor and filled one with water and the other with the food. Now only the guest of honor had to be found.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Food! Belker! Come and get your food!” she called.
Her dog would have responded immediately. Before she’d finished the final syllable, Sammie would be standing right next to his bowl. The area rugs in the hallway would be scrunched together like the bellows of an accordion after his sprint to the kitchen.
Apparently cats didn’t work like dogs. Or perhaps Siamese cats didn’t let themselves be commanded. Belker did not show up. Irene decided to search the apartment, both for Belker and for any clues to Linda’s disappearance.
