say who gave it to her.”
Katarina sprang up, flinging the paper away. “That’s her own damned business!” Furious, she stomped out of the kitchen.
Krister’s playful teasing mood vanished instantly. He gave Irene a serious look. “Forgive me, but I didn’t know anything about this. You were all asleep when I came home at midnight.”
“Exhaustion. Exhaustion pure and simple.”
“Irene, I’ll go up and talk to Jenny. Eat your breakfast in peace and quiet.”
With a sob in her throat she threw her arms around him. She felt a deep gratitude to fate or to whoever it might be who had given her such a wonderful husband. She herself was a whining wife and bad mother who couldn’t handle a job, husband, home, and children. And a dog, she was reminded when Sammie’s ruffled mustaches appeared in the doorway.
“HELLO! DOES anyone know where Hannu Rauhala is? He’s got a call from Stockholm.”
Irene gave a start. Stockholm! It must be the inspector Hannu knew. She dashed for the intercom.
“Hello! Irene here. Switch it over to me. Hannu asked me to handle this matter.”
Not exactly true, but she didn’t have time to be entirely truthful. While she was trying to pull off her jacket, the phone started ringing insistently. Breathlessly she lunged for the receiver, with one arm still in her sleeve.
“Inspector Irene Huss.”
“Hi, Veiko Fors, Stockholm Crime Police. I’m looking for Hannu.”
“I know. We’re both working on this case. We’re understaffed so Hannu asked me to take your call today. He’s out searching for a material witness who disappeared.”
“If Hannu is on the job, you’ll have that witness pretty soon.”
There wasn’t a trace of Finnish intonation in Veiko Fors’s voice. He actually sounded like a guy from the south side of Stockholm.
“Yes, he’s a dynamo, all right. The von Knecht case has just been expanded, as you may have seen in the papers,” Irene said.
“Yes, it looks like you’ve got shit by the boxful. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t got plenty too.”
“Shit by the boxful?”
“Exactly. Jonas Soder is an artist, lives on Fjallgatan. It’s impossible to get hold of him. I called several times and even drove over there and rang the bell on my way home last night. Zip. Mona Soder also drew a blank. I got hold of the old lady’s home phone number and she answered at around five. But when I introduced myself and started to explain that we needed to talk to her and Jonas regarding the von Knecht homicide, she totally flipped out! Refused to talk to me. Says she’ll only come down to talk to somebody who’s in charge of the investigation. So I’m bouncing her back to you in G-borg. Sorry!”
Irene wrote down the address and phone number of Jonas and Mona Soder. Veiko also had Mona’s number at work. He told her that Mona Soder was listed in the phone book as “personnel director.”
Dejectedly she hung up the phone. How would she solve this? There was no time to think about it, because the phone rang again.
“Inspector Irene Huss.”
“Hi there! Robert Skytter here!”
The name didn’t mean a thing to her, but she recognized the trumpeting tone. The car dealer from Volkswagen. His youthful voice sounded like a commercial for energizing cereal flakes or some ginseng preparation. Maybe she ought to buy a bottle of ginseng. Did it come in a five-kilo size? A new trumpet blast shocked her out of her reveries.
“Hello! Are you still there?”
“What? Yes. I was busy with something else. Excuse me. Listen, Robert, I called you about the fact that Charlotte von Knecht was down there picking up her new car Tuesday evening. Is that correct?”
“That’s right!”
“When did she arrive?”
“Well, after four, maybe closer to four-thirty.”
“What time did she leave?”
There was a brief pause. There wasn’t the same self-confident zing in his voice when he replied. “Don’t know for sure. Right after five, I should think.”
“Not
“No, I’m quite sure of that. I remember hearing the five o’clock news on the radio.”
“Weren’t you selling a car? How did you have time to listen to the radio?”
“Well, we were taking a test drive in Charlotte’s new car. She was feeling a little insecure about driving it. I was giving her some advice.”
“Didn’t she have a Golf before?”
“Yes, but this one is much newer. More features. For instance, a more powerful engine, hundred and fifteen horsepower-”
“Thanks, but I already have a car. By the way, how old are you?”
Now there was a long pause. “What does that have to do. . twenty-two.”
“Married or living with someone?”
“Neither. How about yourself? Are you trying to pick me up or. .?”
Her response caught her by surprise, but she couldn’t stop it. The laughter surged up from her chest and exploded from her lips. She had to put down the phone. She leaned over the desk as tears of laughter made even more spots on the already soiled blotter on the desk. She ended up with a cramp in her diaphragm. With a powerful effort she pulled herself together, wiped her nose and the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, and picked up the receiver.
“Hello, excuse me, Robert. But it was just too funny. I could almost be your mother. If I’d only started in time.”
“That’s cool. I’m glad I can make somebody happy. Although I do prefer mature women.”
“Like Charlotte?”
“Charlotte is really something special. And fun. Nice as hell.”
“And you’re sure you heard the five o’clock news while you were in the car?”
“Yes. Even though I wasn’t sitting in the car then. I had just gotten out. Charlotte wanted to see how to remove the spare tire. The car door was open, so we heard the news. Charlotte said something like, ‘Is it five o’clock already?’ Well, then we checked to see if she had all her papers and everything. Then she left.”
“So it would have been about ten after five. Or more correctly, seventeen-ten.”
“Yes, it must have been.”
“Thanks, Robert. Please forgive the laughing fit, but you really made my day.”
“No problem. Drop by if you ever need a good car.”
Well, damned if a faint clearing on the horizon didn’t herald a clear day. A little sun never hurt. It hadn’t been seen in almost two weeks. Irene felt renewed energy flowing through her body. Wasn’t that called “comic relief”? Screw the ginseng; a little flirting on the phone works wonders with ladies approaching forty.
Andersson was sitting in his office. When Irene knocked lightly on the door frame he jumped in his chair.
“Jesus, you scared me!”
“Sitting there trying to think? It smells like something’s burning.” Irene sniffed the air.
He gave her a weary look. “How do you manage to be so cheerful in the morning? And
“I spoke to Hannu’s pal in Stockholm, Veiko Fors.”
“So how were things going for him?”
“Nothing yet. He had shit by the boxful.”
“Shit by the boxful. . are you nuts?”
Irene laughed and even got Andersson to smile a little.
“Those were his exact words. Stockholm slang, you know. The shit is that Jonas Soder can’t be found. He’s apparently an artist. His mamma went crazy when Veiko Fors said he wanted to talk to both of them regarding von Knecht’s murder. She refuses to speak to anyone but the detective in charge of the investigation.”
