“Around 2:00 a.m. on Saturday night.”
“Was the victim able to provide a description?”
“Yes, and it’s close to the three previous ones. Swedish-speaking man of medium height with a nylon stocking over his face. Two of the women have described him as having a slender build, and the other two said he was of a normal build.”
“The same method?”
“Yup. Rape, under threat from a knife. Afterward he cuts the woman on the stomach and thighs. Not life- threatening injuries but she’s scarred for life.”
“Why wasn’t there anything in the papers?” Irene wondered.
“The psychologist thinks that that is why Jack does what he does. In order to get attention.”
“But if they don’t write about him, there is a risk that he’ll become more violent and maybe kill his next victim. I think we need to send out a warning to all women who are out and about in Vasastan around midnight on the weekends.”
“The powers that be are making a decision about that. Meanwhile, I’ll hack away at the investigation.”
“Do you think he would be capable of something like the murder-mutilation out by Killevik?”
Tommy thought about it.
“No. I think he has a block that keeps him from killing his victims. He only wants them to suffer and be marked. If he kills them, they won’t be able to tell anyone what a horrible thing they’ve experienced.”
Irene rolled her eyes. Just suffer. .
The tattooed torso couldn’t speak but the remains bore witness to a rare, dangerous, and macabre murderer who was waiting to strike again. The message was clear.
THE DAYwas filled with routine duties. Irene was able to contact the puppies’ owner and arranged with her to see the small creatures the next evening around six.
Irene had just started putting on her coat when the superintendent came steaming into the room. His face was blotchy from excitement. “Copenhagen has called!” he puffed excitedly.
“Has Stridner’s professor friend come up with something new?” Irene asked.
“No! Not the professor. The police! Our colleagues have called us!”
“What did they say?”
“The dragon isn’t a tattoo! It’s a sign!”
Irene met her boss’s eyes. Did he look a bit confused?
Andersson saw what Irene was thinking and he tried to collect himself. “So then. Criminal Superintendent Beate Bentsen called from Copenhagen. She said that she recognized the image in the picture we sent out. It’s a shop sign.”
Irene felt a tingle inside. This finally felt like an opening.
“What kind of store is it? An Asian food store?”
Andersson blushed with embarrassment. “It. . I don’t know. I have a hard time understanding Danish over the phone but this is what I did get.” He was thinking. “Someone should head down to Copenhagen. We should talk with the coroner in Denmark who examined the dismembered corpse of the prostitute and with Bentsen. And of course take a look at the sign. Maybe it will provide a clue to our torso’s identity.”
Irene nodded.
“Good. You leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! But-”
“You don’t need a passport to go to Denmark. Why don’t you give Bentsen a call.” Andersson pulled a wrinkled note out of his pants pocket and held it out to Irene.
She took it with the feeling that she had just walked into a trap.
BEATE BENTSENsounded very obliging though a bit stressed. She excused herself by saying that she was participating in a training course for police commanders that would last the rest of the week. The classes met until four o’clock; after that she could see Irene. It suited Irene perfectly. She had some things she wanted to do before she left.
First she called Monika Lind in Vanersborg.
“Hi, Monika. This is Irene Huss.”
“Have you found anything?”
“No, we haven’t found her. But I’m going to Copenhagen tomorrow on a different case. I thought I would take a look around. Do you have a recent picture of Isabell?”
“Several. They were taken six months ago.”
“Does Janne still have his computer company?”
“Yes.”
“Can you send a picture over to me?”
“No problem.”
It would take about half an hour before Irene had the picture. She used the time to make some phone calls and take care of practical matters. She printed out a map of Copenhagen and booked a hotel on the Internet. It turned out to be the Hotel Alex on H. C. Andersen Boulevard. According to the map, it was centrally located and not far from Vesterbro, where Superintendent Bentsen worked.
Everything was ready when the soft-toned studio picture from Vanersborg arrived. Isabell’s hair was shoulder length and thick but blonder than Irene remembered. There was a lot of makeup around the eyes as well as on the pouting mouth. The facial features were clean with a slight hint of a snub nose. Isabell was cute in a Barbie doll- type way. Irene printed out the photo. She was impressed by the focus and the good reproduction of the picture.
There was a short message from Monika:
Many greetings,
Monika L.
Irene felt a twinge. She hadn’t meant to give Monika false hope that she would actually find Isabell, but she would try.
“ COPENHAGEN?O K. I’ll take care of the puppy showing,” Krister sighed.
They were sitting in the living room, drinking coffee after dinner. Irene had curled up at the end of the sofa with her knees tucked under her. She had already packed the things she would need for an overnight stay. Everything had easily fit in her dark blue police bag.
“How are you getting there then?” her husband asked.
“I’m borrowing one of the cars from work and driving down to Helsingborg. Then I’ll take the ferry over to Helsingor. I’m counting on it taking about four hours to Copenhagen. It might be five because there may be a delay if I have to wait for the ferry.”
“Will just you be enough?”
“Yes. I’m just going to talk with Danish colleagues and a medical examiner. This is the first concrete lead we’ve had to the victim’s identity. And maybe the murderer’s as well.”
“Are either of them Danish? Or both?”
“Don’t know. Maybe.”
“About the puppy showing. . I’ll talk with Lenny and see if his family can also come and look tomorrow. I think it would be practical considering how crabby the lady is. One has to say in Sammie’s defense that you don’t pick your in-laws. It was the black beauty he fell for, not her owner.”
“In-laws! I haven’t called your mother-in-law for a week!”
Irene hopped off the couch in order to repair her daughterly negligence.
Mamma Gerd didn’t answer. Irene let the phone ring about ten times before she gave up. She went out to
