Annika smiled and stuffed her mouth full.
'Tell me more. What was the apartment like?'
Annika chewed and thought about the question. 'Spartan. Like it wasn't really furnished, you know, mattresses straight on the floor. As if they hadn't moved in for real.'
'How the hell did she get an apartment on Dalagatan?'
'Mommy Barbro bought it. The phone's in her name too.'
Anne Snapphane leaned back in her chair. 'Why did she die?'
Annika shrugged. 'Don't know.'
'What are the cops saying?'
'I haven't talked to them yet.'
They both bought a bottle of mineral water to take back to the newsroom. Spike was on the phone; no one else was in the office.
'What are you doing today?' Annika wondered.
'New forest fires have flared up all over the realm. I'll be putting them all out single-handedly.'
Annika laughed.
She switched on her computer and loaded a floppy disk. She swiftly entered the notes from her conversation with Patricia, saved the file to the floppy, and deleted it from the hard disk. She put the floppy in her bottom desk drawer.
Annika's phone rang. She knew from the signal that it was an internal call.
'You've got a visitor,' Tore Brand informed her.
'Who is it?'
Brand disappeared from the phone; she could hear him hollering in the background, 'Hey! Stop! You can't just walk in there-'
Steps returning to the phone.
'Listen, he went right upstairs. But I think it's all right. It's a guy.'
Annika felt the irritation growing inside her. Tore Brand was there to prevent exactly this sort of thing from happening. Stupid old man.
'Did he say what he wanted?'
'He wanted to discuss something in today's paper. We're supposed to be accessible to the readers,' Tore Brand said, as if it were meant literally.
At that instant, Annika spotted the man out of the corner of her eye. He was moving toward her, his eyes glaring. Annika hung up the phone and watched the man stalk through the newsroom and up to her desk.
'Are you Annika Bengtzon?' he said tensely.
Annika nodded.
The man geared himself up and slammed a copy of the day's
Annika stared at the man- she didn't have a clue who he was.
'Why didn't you tell us what you were going to write? Her mother didn't know that this is how she died. Or that someone had been chewing on her. Jesus Christ!'
The man turned round and sat down on her desk, then hid his face in his hands and started crying. Annika picked up the paper he'd slammed down in front of her. It was open on the story on what Josefin looked like when she was found: her mute scream and bruised breasts, and the picture with the naked leg in the dense summer vegetation. Annika closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.
This was Josefin's father, of course. Good God, what have I done? Annika felt shame wash over her like a giant tidal wave, coming at her in hot flushes. The floor started rolling. Christ Almighty, what had she done?
'I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd want to be disturbed-'
'Disturbed?' the man shouted out loud. 'Do you think we could get more disturbed than this? Did you think we wouldn't see the garbage you wrote? Were you hoping we'd die too and never find out about it? Were you?'
Annika was on the verge of tears. The man was red in the face and was practically foaming at the mouth. Spike had turned around and was looking in her direction. Picture Pelle had showed up and was staring at the scene.
'I'm very sorry,' she said.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Berit materialized. Without a word, she put an arm around the man's shoulder and led him away toward the cafeteria. He went with her without arguing, shaking with tears.
Annika grabbed her bag and hurried to the back exit. She was breathing raggedly and had to make a huge effort to walk normally.
'Where are you going, Bengtzon?' Spike hollered after her.
'Out!' she yelled back in a far too shrill voice.
She ran down the steps and threw her body at the back door. Two floors down, in the stairwell outside the archive, she sat down.
I'm a contemptible human being, she thought. This is never going to work.
She just sat on the stairs for a while and then left the building via the entrance next to the printing works.
She walked slowly down to the water by Marieberg Park. The noise of kids swimming traveled over the surface from Smedsudds Beach. She sat down on a bench. This is what it's like to live, she mused. You hear the sounds, feel the wind and the heat. You fail and you're ashamed of it. That's what it's all about- to live and learn.
I'll never hesitate again to make a call or make contact. I'll always stand up for what I write. I'll never be ashamed of my work or my words. She made promises to herself.
She slowly made her way along the water's edge over to the beach. There she took the path skirting Fyrverkarbacken and leading back to the newspaper offices.
'You have to tell me when you leave the building,' Tore Brand grumbled at the reception desk when she passed.
She didn't have the energy to answer but just took the elevator up, praying that the father would be gone. He was, along with everybody else. Spike and Jansson were doing the handover, the subeditors weren't in yet, and Berit was out someplace.
Annika sat down heavily at her desk. She hadn't produced anything useful today. All that remained was to call the police.
The press officer said that the investigation was in progress.
There was no reply at the Krim duty desk.
The police control room hadn't been involved in the murder case during the day.
She hesitated but then decided to call the captain in charge of the investigation all the same.
When she dialed the number for the Krim duty desk, he answered the phone. Her pulse quickened.
'Hello, this is Annika Bengtzon at-'
'I know, I know.' Quiet groan.
'Are you always at work?'
'Same with you, it seems like.' His tone was cold and curt.
'I've got a few quick questions-'
'I can't talk to every reporter in town. If I'm on the phone, I can't be doing my job.' Angry, annoyed.
'You don't have to talk to everybody, only to me.'
'You'd like that, wouldn't you?' Tired.
Annika reflected in silence for a few seconds. 'This is taking a long time. It'd be quicker if you just answered my questions.'
'The quickest thing would be for me to hang up.'
'So why don't you?'
He breathed silently down the line, as if asking himself the same question. 'What do you want?'
'What have you been doing today?'
'Routine interviews.'
'Patricia? Joachim? The other people at the club? Maybe even a few of the customers? The parents? Her twin brother? People living near the park? The fat lady with the dog? And who's Jasper? And who's the minister?'
There was a pause. She'd got him. 'You've done your homework.'
'Just the normal research.'
