Inez Collin turned and smiled at him. “That’s not something we know about. Officially. We have to go on the facts of the situation. The explosives were stored in their shared bedroom.”
A trace of respect was visible in Andersson’s eyes. Pensively he said, “That might not be such a dumb idea. Bring her in for something she had nothing to do with. Make her try to talk her way out of it. It’s another person to play off against the others. Yes, by God, that might be the best way! Tommy, Jonny, and Hans will keep her under surveillance until it’s time to reel the lady in. We really need to have our ducks in a row, because she’s going to yell for her lawyer first thing!”
Hans Borg felt it was probably time to try participating in the investigation. He hummed and raised his hand. “I swung by Berzeliigatan on the way in this morning. The guys were already working. The standalone is making a new try at lifting out the safe this morning. If all goes well, I’ll call Rosengren’s and ask their guy to come over this afternoon.”
“Okay. I hope the machine doesn’t fall into the cellar again. We’ll hold another meeting here after four. By the way, does anyone have any idea what the techs might mean by this fax that was lying on my desk when I came in? It says: ‘No! We don’t raid refrigerators!’”
OF ALL the long afternoons, this one took the cake. Irene tried to force her sponge of a brain to formulate a report, but progress was sluggish. At lunchtime she went out to eat with Birgitta. Afterward she couldn’t remember what they ate. She should really have gone home. But at the same time she felt that they were moving toward a solution of the von Knecht case.
The standalone made child’s play of pulling out the safe and loading it into a van. In triumph the safe was taken to the courtyard of police headquarters. There it was left in the back of the van to await the experts from the safe manufacturer.
After lunch the phone rang and Irene gladly interrupted writing her report. Someone hooted on the line. “Hello! It’s Jimmy.”
She was so happy at the sound of his voice that she couldn’t think of anything witty to say, only a lame, “Hi! How’s it going?”
“Much better. You nabbed both of them! I yelled out loud when I heard about it this morning!”
Confound it! She had that lump in her throat again. Jimmy knew and understood a great deal, but not even he would ever hear the whole truth. He obviously felt a strong sense of vengeful satisfaction. Why didn’t she? Why did she only feel empty? Not happy, not sad, just tired and empty. She swallowed and managed to say, “Are you well enough to read the paper?”
He hesitated. “Well, not really. Remember the blond nurse with the braid who came in when you visited me last time? Her name is Annelise. She reads to me. There are newspapers on tape, but the news is several days old. I listen to the radio too.”
“How’s it going with the tail vertebrae?”
He sighed. “It’s the next thing to deal with, I’m afraid. I’m having problems with the plumbing. I can’t take a leak when I need to. And the pain in my legs is worse. There was a whole crowd of orthopedists here a while ago. They’re moving me over there in a few days. They think I’ll probably need an operation. But that’ll go fine. I really do feel better now. Because you nabbed those shitheads!”
He seemed to know intuitively that she was the one who needed pepping up, not him. She managed to sound a little livelier as she said, “Take care of yourself. I’ll come and see you tomorrow.”
“Fantastic! No grapes, please. Twenty kronor worth of candy will do.”
“It sounds like you’re on the road to recovery.”
THE NEXT interruption came when Birgitta stuck her head in and wondered if she wanted to see them open the safe. Irene gave her a wan smile.
“As long as it doesn’t explode, sure. Hopefully, Henrik didn’t manage to get into the safe.”
It was almost two-thirty and already it was dark. There was a light sprinkle of small, hard snowflakes coming down. The back doors of the van were opened, and the man from Rosengren’s stepped out. With a
The space inside the safe was small, about fifty by fifty centimeters. Birgitta had brought a carton, into which they packed folders, boxes, and envelopes.
They went straight to the conference room with the carton. The table there was the most suitable for spreading out and sorting the contents.
Andersson’s face was reverential as he looked at the five inspectors present. Hannu Rauhala and Hans Borg were missing. With poorly concealed anticipation he rubbed his hands and said, “Finally! Now we’ll see if there’s anything useful here. We’ll divide up the stuff and then go through it with the utmost care. We’ll place everything that should be looked at more closely in the center of the table. If you’re unsure of something, put it in the middle pile anyway!”
He swiftly divided everything into six stacks, which he passed out to those present. Irene got a hard leather case that turned out to contain a pistol. Impressed, she said, “Wow! Here’s something. A Beretta Ninety-Two- S.”
Andersson looked surprised. “Where the hell did he get that? Is it loaded? Check if he had a license,” he said gruffly.
“Fifteen rounds in the clip. But there’s no more ammunition that I can see.”
They all looked through their stacks and boxes without finding any more ammunition. All they found were some medals from various sporting events. Plus an old gold pocket watch. It seemed to have belonged to Richard’s father. On the lid of the old watch were the gracefully engraved initials “O. V. K.” Otto von Knecht.
Irene was sitting and admiring the beautiful watch when she heard the superintendent gasp. The color began to rise in his face; his eyes were fixed on the pictures he had pulled out of a brown A4 envelope. Slowly he stood up and flung the photographs in the middle of the table.
There were ten color photos the same size as the envelope. All taken from the same angle. All with the same motif. An act of intercourse, with the man taking the woman from the rear. The woman stood leaning forward coquettishly, with her forearms supported on the back of a leather armchair. In the background there were large paintings on the walls and in one corner of the photos a crystal chandelier. The camera angle was from the side. He was dressed only in a leather helmet. It was pulled down over his face, with holes for his eyes. She wore thigh-high boots with stiletto heels and her legs were spread apart. Otherwise, naked. In some of the pictures she was staring straight at the camera, with a smile parting her moist lips. In one of them she pouted a little, as if she were sending the photographer a kiss. Her eyes were half closed with lust.
All the detectives in the room took a photo to study. Andersson’s face was as red as a stoplight when he wheezed, “Well, my lovely chicken! We’ve got you now!”
Irene almost didn’t believe it was true. Finally something concrete to present! Proof against Charlotte von Knecht.
Jonny gave a stifled moan. “What a delicious body she has! My God, I can see why little father-in-law couldn’t keep his fingers off her. All eleven of them!”
Nobody giggled, but nobody protested either. Fredrik looked closely at his picture and said after a while, “Is it really certain that it’s Richard von Knecht in the picture with her? I mean, couldn’t it be Henrik? Or somebody else?”
Irene looked carefully at her photo. All her weariness seemed to have evaporated; she felt the thrill of the hunt pulsing inside her. The trail was hot again and smelled strongly of pheromones.
Meditatively Birgitta asked, “Where were the pictures taken? Does anybody recognize the room?”
They all took another look at the photos, then shook their heads. No one recognized the interior. Irene’s attention was captured by the background. The paintings. One of the paintings.
Irritated, the superintendent slammed his palm down on the picture on the table and exclaimed, “It’s damned weird behavior, putting a leather hood over his head! It’ll be hard to prove that it’s Richard von Knecht in the pictures. Not to mention proving where they were taken.”
