was out sailing, if a sheet or shroud starting getting tangled on the mast, he never wanted to climb up and fix it.”
“How did your ex-husband know Richard von Knecht?”
Again it was Irene Huss who asked. Yvonne Stridner gave her a sharp look but nodded in comprehension of the reason the question had been asked.
“They belonged to the same crowd during their high school days. They stuck together through thick and thin over the years. Over time, various girlfriends and wives joined the group. We were invited to the spring bonfire celebration and the New Year’s party held every year. Otherwise we girls stayed pretty much on the sidelines. It was like a men’s club, or a fraternal lodge.”
“How many years did you socialize with the von Knechts?”
“Tore and I were married barely four years. I met them probably ten times. As I said, this was fifteen years ago. After our divorce I lost contact with the von Knecht circle.”
Irene could see that the professor was beginning to glance at her elegant wristwatch and knew that she had to hurry and get to the last important question. Quickly she asked, “Who was included in this men’s club?”
Now Yvonne Stridner looked annoyed. Maybe she thought she had been too communicative.
“They were men who are quite prominent today,” she said brusquely. Then she thought for a moment and her expression brightened. “Let’s do this. I’ll make a list of all the men in the group. You’ll have it tomorrow with the preliminary autopsy report.”
She hurried off toward the white Ford Escort. Irene watched her go and said, “She’s actually quite human.”
Andersson snorted. “Human, her? She’s got the emotional life of a backhoe!”
Inspector Huss smiled, concluding once again that the superintendent didn’t forgive or forget easily.
“How are we going to get into the building then? This is a real Fort Knox if you don’t have the code or the keys,” she noted.
Superintendent Andersson didn’t seem to be listening; for a long while he stood, lost in thought. Finally he took a deep breath and said, “It’s going to take some time before the superintendent at headquarters gets hold of the prosecutor and gets his permission for a search warrant. In the meantime I’ll just have to stay here and wait for the warrant and a locksmith. HQ will also have to track down the phone number of someone in this building who can let us in. Maybe you could drive up to Sahlgren Hospital and check on how the wife and son are doing. My first thought was to borrow the key from the wife so we don’t have to damage their lovely front door.”
A weary and bitter undertone revealed that Andersson was more affected by the events than he would admit.
“Okay, I’ll run up to emergency. The car keys, please,” she said.
Irene reached out her hand and took the keys, still warm from his pocket. She walked off toward the old Volvo.
AS USUAL, finding a parking place was hopeless, even though evening visiting hours at the hospital were almost over. Huss showed her police ID to the guard and was allowed to drive in. That didn’t always happen when the police showed up in plainclothes and didn’t have someone in the car who needed patching up.
Since it was a normal Tuesday evening and still relatively early, it was quiet in the big emergency room. Irene went up to the nurses’ counter and saw a blond male nurse sitting there, talking on the telephone. They had met several times before in the line of duty. He waved cheerfully in acknowledgment and signaled that he’d be off the phone soon.
Irene looked around. Right outside the counter was an elderly man on a gurney. His face was a horrible shade of gray; she could hardly see his lips in that pale face. He lay there with his eyes closed and didn’t seem to be conscious of his surroundings. On a chair next to him sat a short, plump woman patting his arm unceasingly. She was sniffling quietly but didn’t speak to him. Over by the waiting room a youth sat with a wad of bloody paper towels wrapped around his hand. An older gentleman whom Irene recognized from the “A-team” bench in Brunnsparken lay snoring loudly on a gurney. He didn’t seem to be in such bad shape because the blood around the gash on his forehead had already started to congeal. A young woman sat stiffly on her chair staring into space. Except for the old man’s snoring it was almost peaceful in the ER.
Nurse Roland finished his phone call and waved Huss over from the corridor with a blithe “Hi there, Irene! Long time no see! I bet I can guess why you’re here.”
“Hi! Have you seen Fru von Knecht and her son?”
“I sure have. The medics came in and brought me out to the ambulance. They had a feeling that it was probably best to take her straight to Psych. And in the condition she was in, I agreed with them.”
“How did the son look?”
“He just sat there staring into space. Of course he’s had a great shock too. Would you like a quick cup of coffee before you dash off?”
Roland gestured invitingly toward the employees’ lounge. Irene could feel her body longing for a cup of coffee but declined. Time was passing. She started to walk toward the exit as an odd figure came through the double doors. He was tall and incredibly skinny. His rat-colored hair was thin and straggled down the back of his leather jacket. On his feet he wore a pair of indescribably dirty and ragged jogging shoes, and only his jeans could compete with them in filthiness. His thigh-length leather jacket was of a sixties design and had probably been bought at the Salvation Army or picked out of a Dumpster after someone had cleaned out an attic. But it wasn’t his slovenly clothing, which had seen a few too many winters, that made Irene gape.
His skin was so yellow that it was almost greenish. The guy had jaundice of the most fulminating kind. Without a word the yellow-skinned man ripped off his jacket. The front of his T-shirt was drenched with blood. His stony pupils, surrounded by the sulfur-yellow whites of his eyes, stared straight at the inspector. He grabbed hold of the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it up.
Then Irene yelled, “Roland! Hurry! Roland!”
Nurse Roland stuck his head out the door of the nurses’ station. After more than ten years on the job in the ER, he had no problem evaluating the situation instantly.
“Damn, that’s a loop of intestine hanging out his belly!”
He dashed back into the station. Irene heard him yell on the intercom, “. . abdomen slashed open. He’s a walking case of HIV and hepatitis!”
He bolted like a shot out the door. On the way he swept on a yellow protective coat, plastic gloves, and a pair of safety glasses. Just as he reached the stabbing victim, the man’s eyes turned upward and rolled into his skull as he collapsed onto the floor.
Down the corridor quick steps were heard approaching. The emergency personnel walked as fast as they could while trying to pull on some protective gear.
With a careful evasive maneuver the inspector slunk out into the black November damp. Now it felt good to be outside in the cold. The wind had let up and the rain hung like an icy fog in the air. She went over to her car and drove through the hospital grounds.
PSYCH EMER GENCY was locked, of course. Irene had to ring the doorbell. A tall, muscular nurse in a white uniform came and opened the door. He towered in the doorway, his shoulders almost filling it. He had sharply defined, powerful features and very dark skin. Could he be from India? He was certainly ten years younger than Irene. But he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.
“Hi, what do you want?” He had a deep, pleasant voice with no accent.
“Detective Inspector Irene Huss, Crime Police. I’d like to have a few words with the son of Richard von Knecht. No, not an interrogation, nothing like that. I know he accompanied his mother here an hour ago. We need some help with a case. Their ambulance had already left by the time we got to the scene of the accident.”
Irene showed her police ID. The nurse, whose name tag said THOMAS, nodded and smiled. She followed him to the cramped waiting room. He said in a low voice, “They were placed in an examining room immediately. Have a seat if you like, and I’ll go tell Henrik von Knecht that you want to speak to him.”
Again he gave her an irresistible smile before he turned away. Irene saw his broad back disappear down the corridor. He knocked on a door and opened it. Sobs could be heard from within. The nurse was inside for barely a minute. When he emerged a pale man most likely in his thirties accompanied him. There were flecks of blood on the
