“The car. The Porsche. How could it be on Berzeliigatan that night? Where was it parked earlier in the evening?”
“I asked Sylvia where the car was now. According to her, it’s in a locked garage on Molinsgatan. Just like her own car, a BMW,” Tommy replied.
“So it hasn’t been stolen, but was put back in its garage. Is it certain that it was von Knecht’s Porsche and not someone else’s?”
Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “The old guy on Sten Sturegatan claimed it was von Knecht’s,” he said curtly.
Again a thoughtful silence descended over the meeting. Finally the superintendent slapped the palm of his hand on the table, which put another coffee stain on Irene’s report, and exclaimed, “It’s some damned phantom sneaking around, going through locked doors, and taking locked cars. And putting them back! Without leaving a trace. Up in smoke!”
Hannu caught his eye. “More keys.”
Andersson fell silent and took on an absentminded look of concentration. The others also realized that it was the only explanation. Irene said enthusiastically, “Of course that’s it! There has to be an extra key to the car and the garage. By the way, Sylvia said that Richard had been searching for the spare key to the Porsche the week before he died. On the same key ring there’s a key to the garage. There must also be another set of keys to the doors in von Knecht’s building on Molinsgatan and the building on Berzeliigatan. But Sylvia told me that there were only three sets of keys to the two apartments. I saw them myself; she has all three key rings at home in her apartment.”
Andersson looked at Irene after her input. Thoughtfully he said, “Sylvia certainly didn’t know about any more keys. He had a whole bunch of secrets, our fine Herr von Knecht. There must be another set of keys. Which the killer is now walking around with. Plus the spare keys to the Porsche and the garage.”
As the words sank in, Irene understood the threat. “That means that Sylvia shouldn’t be staying in the apartment before the locks are changed,” she said.
“Precisely.” Andersson made a calming gesture. “But we can lie low over the weekend. She’s at Marstrand with Henrik, after all. As long as the murderer doesn’t have keys to that house too.”
Irene gave a start and exclaimed, “Wait a minute. There
An anxious furrow creased Andersson’s brow. “Irene, try to get hold of her right away.”
She nodded and felt a slight uneasiness inside. Sylvia might be in danger. An obvious question popped up, demanding an answer. “But who would have access to a whole set of keys to von Knecht’s various houses and cars?” she wondered.
All of them tried to figure out an answer. Finally Hannu said, “Richard von Knecht.”
At first Andersson was visibly irritated, but he had to admit the logic of Hannu’s conclusion. “And who would he give the keys to?”
Nobody had a good answer, and they dropped the subject after a while.
Irene reported on her trip to Stockholm. Her colleagues had plenty of comments about her excursion: Was it really necessary to spend a lot of taxpayers’ money going up to Stockholm? Did Mona Soder stand to inherit? Why couldn’t she have said all that on the phone? Could Mona have flown down to Goteborg on Tuesday afternoon and back the same evening? Or driven it in her fast new car?
With a dismissive gesture Irene tried to answer the questions one by one. “It was actually not so dumb of her to demand that I come up and see Jonas with my own eyes. Jonas is dying, and she has been by his side every evening. Now she’s on vacation, so she can stay with him around the clock. I’ve checked with the hospital staff and they say she was there on Tuesday evening. According to the switchboard at her job she was there all day Tuesday. The Audi has only gone thirty-two hundred kilometers. I’m actually quite convinced of her innocence. We don’t have to waste more resources by checking up on her and Jonas. They just want to be left in peace. To your question, Hannu: Yes, Mona will inherit Jonas’s share of Richard von Knecht’s estate, that’s the law. But she doesn’t need his money and doesn’t want anything to do with the von Knecht family. Can we keep her and Jonas out of the official reports to the media?”
She addressed this question to Andersson in an almost entreating tone of voice. He looked at her, surprised, but then nodded briefly.
“We’ll have to trust your intuition for the time being, until something turns up. From what I understand, Jonas isn’t going anywhere. And his mother isn’t either,” he said crassly.
Energetically he slapped his palm on the table again, so that his cup fell over and the last drops of coffee trickled across Irene’s report. With a sigh she acknowledged that she would have to print out a whole new one. Andersson didn’t notice, but turned to Tommy.
“Tommy, what have you found out about Shorty?”
“Fredrik and I split up the job. I concentrated on the buildings around Berzeliigatan. Fredrik took Shorty. I didn’t see a trace of him all afternoon. But if I know Fredrik, there will be a complete report. First thing Monday morning, if not sooner.”
Andersson suddenly looked like he had an idea and interrupted Tommy. “There’s an interesting thing that Birgitta ferreted out yesterday during her interview with Bobo Torsson.”
He stopped, recalling the heated exchange between Jonny and Birgitta the day before. He decided not to tell the others about it. Instead he gave a lively account of Birgitta’s interview of Torsson. The attack on Birgitta’s more intimate body parts made those present especially indignant. But when the superintendent fired off his final remark, they gave him an almost distrustful look. As if he must be lying.
“. . and finally it came out that Torsson is living with Shorty right now. He and Shorty are cousins!”
He was pleased with the effect of his words. At the same time he had to admit that it didn’t simplify matters in the least that the chic doper fashion photographer and the notorious hoodlum were close relatives. He sighed heavily and said for the thousandth time in the past few days, “What a mess! Does any of it make sense, or are we running around chasing our phantom along a bunch of unrelated sidetracks?”
“I think it seems normal for a homicide investigation. We spend ninety percent of our time on leads that don’t have a thing to do with the case. Routine jobs, following a lot of leads, checking witnesses’ statements, verifying times and the like. No, I think it’s the same as always,” said Tommy.
He rolled his eyes to heaven and the others laughed. They all knew very well that this was no routine case.
Andersson turned to Hannu. “What have you found out about Pirjo?”
“Dental X rays. She was in emergency at the community dental clinic in Angered six months ago, had a toothache. They pulled it. She didn’t want a root canal.”
Andersson leaned toward him excitedly and asked, “Where are the X rays now?”
“Pathology.”
“Good! Then we’ll find out soon whether it’s really Pirjo lying there. Although it most likely
“Yes. I got word from Helsinki. She was arrested for illegal distilling and bootlegging along with her ex- husband. The boys’ father. He was sentenced to one year. In prison he was stabbed by another inmate after a fight over a gambling debt. He died. There’s nothing about Marjatta except ‘father unknown.’”
“Did Pirjo do time?”
“No. She got a suspended sentence, because of the kids. Less than a year later she married Gote Larsson and moved to Sweden.”
“So that was three years ago?”
“Yep.”
“And now he’s in Malmo living with a Polish woman.”
“Right.”
They remained seated and continued to discuss things without getting much further. Just as Andersson stood up to go to his office, the door opened and a uniformed officer stuck in his head. It was Hans Stefansson from PO1. He greeted them cheerfully. “Hi! Just wanted to tell you, Andersson, that we haven’t found Bobo Torsson. Shorty told us to go to hell when we wanted to enter his apartment and look for him. Should we get a search warrant?”
