did it earlier.”
The superintendent turned around on his heel and hissed, “What do you mean?”
“Spectacular! Pastor’s family murdered by Satanists! Candy for the evening papers. Whoever leaked the information was probably well paid.”
Still red in the face, Andersson mumbled something unintelligible. After taking a few deep breaths, he asked Svante to review the new information the lab had come up with.
Svante took a seat and looked down at the papers he had set in front of him on the table. “The analysis of the pentagrams is finished. The one on the computer screen in the cottage was, as expected, made with Jacob Schyttelius’s blood. We’ve found the tool that the murderer used: A bloody pastry brush was lying in the wastebasket under the desk.”
He paused briefly and took out some new papers, which he laid on top of the pile.
“The analysis of the pentagram in the rectory is a bit surprising. The star itself was made with Sten Schyttelius’s blood, but the ring around it was made with Elsa’s. The murderer used a pastry brush there as well. We found it inside one of the desk drawers.”
“Did the murderer leave any clues?” Irene asked.
“Not that we’ve found yet. Naturally, there are a lot of hairs and fibers at both crime scenes, but nothing seems suspicious so far. We’ve found a little bit of soil from the yard on the floor of the bedroom at the rectory. It doesn’t have to be the murderer who dragged it in. It could just as easily have been Mr. or Mrs. Schyttelius, or one of you.”
“No footprints, or anything like that?” Andersson asked hopefully.
“No. Nor are there any signs of bodily fluids or other foreign substances-”
“What do you mean by ‘foreign substances’?” Fredrik Stridh interrupted.
“Substances that are used during Satanic rituals. For example, smoke, different types of narcotics, alcohol, blood from sacrificial animals. There was a lot of blood, but all the blood at the crime scenes came from the victims.”
The investigators contemplated the surprising lack of evidence left by the murderer. Irene couldn’t explain how he had managed, as so much blood and tissue had to have splashed around the victims. Instead, she asked the technician another question. “Do you know for certain that the same weapon was used in all three murders?”
“Yes. All three were shot with the rifle which was lying under Mr. and Mrs. Schyttelius’s bed; and with the same type of ammunition, Norma 30–06. There are no fingerprints on the murder weapon.”
Svante gathered his papers together and returned them to his worn canvas bag. He rose, nodded, and disappeared through the door. The superintendent reclaimed his position in front of the audience.
“A man who lives a little farther down the road, right after the turnoff to the Schytteliuses’ cottage, phoned. When he was out walking his dog just before eleven on Monday night, he saw a dark-colored car parked on a forest road a little way off.”
Andersson turned on the overhead projector but didn’t bother pulling down the screen. A hand-drawn map in blue ink was projected onto the wall.
“Here’s the gravel road down to the Schytteliuses’ cottage. Here’s the cottage. The car was parked a little way down the next road. There aren’t any cottages along it, because it’s an old logging road. The technicians found some blurred tire tracks, but the sleet and rain the last few days washed away most of it. Footprints have been washed away by now as well.”
“Does he know what make the car was?” Hannu asked.
“No. He never went up to the car, just stopped on a path forty or fifty meters away from it. The dog was probably taking care of business. The man had a flashlight with him so he could see where he was walking, but the car was too far away for the flashlight to illuminate it enough to make out any details.”
Andersson pointed at the dotted line that wound its way in the opposite direction from the cottage.
“This is where the path goes. And the car was here. The witness thinks it was a smaller model car, possibly a small Mazda or something similar. It was either black, dark blue, or dark green. He thinks it had Swedish license plates.”
“But he isn’t completely certain?” said Irene.
“No. He saw the car at an angle from behind, and apparently it was parked next to a grove of spruce trees. According to him, it wasn’t visible from the main road. The car was impossible to see unless you walked in a short distance on the forest path.”
“So someone wanted to hide the car,” Irene concluded.
“Looks that way, yeah. I’ve measured on a real map and if you keep to the roads, it’s almost exactly a kilometer to walk from the car to the Schytteliuses’s cottage. The question about the shortest distance, as opposed to staying on the roads, is whether the undergrowth is too thick to allow someone to walk through the woods. If it’s possible, then it’s barely two hundred meters as the crow flies from the car to the cottage. Someone should take a closer look.”
Fredrik held up his hand and Irene slowly followed his lead. It was the thought of the reports that needed to be written and the piles of paper that. . She held her hand a little higher so the superintendent wouldn’t miss how interested she was in the navigable aspects of the terrain around Norssjon.
There was a knock at the door, and a head could be glimpsed through the opening. A female voice said, “Telephone for Huss. It’s about the pastors’ murders.”
The door closed again and Irene got up and went to her office. The call was put through, and to her surprise Louise Maardh was on the other end of the line. Louise went straight to the point: “I’ve read the papers about the symbols that were written in blood. What are they called. .? Pentagrams! It struck me that I’ve actually seen one of those symbols recently. Namely, in Eva Moller’s car.”
If she listened for Irene’s reaction, she was probably disappointed. Even if Irene was surprised, her voice didn’t reveal anything. “In Eva Moller’s car? Where?” was all she said.
“The gearshift. She has one of those pentagrams on the knob.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ve ridden with her several times to church choir rehearsals. She drives past our house, and I usually catch a ride with her when the weather is bad. After Christmas, I noticed that knob, and I asked her why she had traded the old one in for this strange one and she laughed and said it was a Christmas present.”
“What does this knob look like?”
“The knob itself is black, and the pentagram is silver.”
“Thanks a lot. I’ll speak with her.”
When Irene had hung up the phone, she stared blankly in front of her as the thoughts swirled around in her head. A gearshift knob with a pentagram on it? Maybe Eva Moller didn’t know what kind of symbol she was driving around with? But the chances of her not knowing were slight. For the first time, they had gotten a lead on a possible Satanic link to the Schyttelius family but this lead had led to a most unexpected place.
TOMMY SWEPT by in the corridor with a cheerful “Things are starting to move in the Speedy murder case!”
Irene vaguely wondered why he had a video camera in tow but when Fredrik came steaming in with the car keys jingling in his hand, she lost her train of thought. She would have to get going if she was going to keep up with Inspector Stridh.
They drove out toward Borasvagen. Irene said, “Eva Moller can’t meet with us until one o’clock. Apparently she’s also a music teacher and has lessons until then.”
“Should we eat lunch before, or after?”
“Before. It will buy us some time.”
Irene had the directions to Eva Moller’s cottage in her pocket. She had been surprised when she realized that the cantor lived alone in a house in the middle of the woods. To get there, one had to drive toward Landvetter Church and then wind one’s way on some smaller roads. “I’m right out in the middle of nowhere,” Eva had said.
They turned off what was now the familiar road to Norssjon, but this time they didn’t turn at the little wooden sign with the faded text “Luck Cottage”; they continued a few hundred meters further until they came to the forest road. There was no sign here. Fredrik slowed down and drove onto a narrow road, more like a wide lane.
