Irene tried to get her act together. “Oh. I mean. . congratulations.” “Thanks.”
“Who the hell are you marrying?” said Andersson.
“Birgitta.”
Of course. Irene’s brain finally started working again. She had spied on Hannu and seen him get into Birgitta’s car, had thought they might be dating, but in her wildest imagination she hadn’t dreamed that it would go as far as marriage.
Andersson gasped for breath. After he managed to get some oxygen, he exclaimed, “Birgitta Moberg, here in the unit? Are you insane? A married couple can’t work together in the same unit!”
Hannu met his boss’s tirade calmly. “It will only be for about half a year. Then she will be on maternity leave a while and we’ll have to think things over.”
The silence was heavy. Irene sensed it was a good thing she was sitting. Andersson’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. She worried about his blood pressure, since she knew he didn’t always take his medicine.
“Well. This is a pretty kettle of fish! My inspectors, going behind my back and keeping secrets from me. Irene is conducting her own investigations in Copenhagen, and Hannu and Birgitta are getting married-”
He paused before he continued, “Of course, that doesn’t have anything to do with the job. But it still has to affect work when two inspectors are in a relationship. Not good at all!”
“Have you noticed any effect on my work or Birgitta’s?” asked Hannu.
A certain sharpness could be sensed in his voice. Andersson took note of it and didn’t answer. He just stared sourly in front of him. After a while he turned his chair around to face Jonny and said, “Well. And what kind of secret business do you have going on?”
Jonny looked very puzzled. “None. Not that I know of. None,” he answered, stammering.
No, you don’t have enough imagination Irene thought.
“Good. Then
It was an immature and unfair comment, thought Irene. But she understood that he was really stressed.
“Actually, I can’t go anywhere tomorrow either. As you may recall, I asked for the day off. We are going to Stockholm. My wife’s niece is getting married on Whitsunday. A big wedding with a hundred guests and-”
“This is unbelievable!” Andersson began, but he stopped himself. He rummaged around, pulled out the calendar, and found Whitsuntide with his index finger. With a wrinkled brow, he looked at the date. Finally, he came to a decision, saying, “OK. You and Irene will go to Copenhagen on Whitmonday. On Tuesday morning you will offer to assist our Danish colleagues.”
“But we were planning on coming home on Whitmon-”
“I don’t give a shit about that! You can come home whenever you want! But on Tuesday morning you are going to be in Copenhagen!”
IRENE CALLED home to explain that she had to drive to Vanersborg. Jenny didn’t ask what she was going to do there, just noted that her mother would be late, as usual.
The meeting with Monika Lind was just as traumatic as Irene had feared. Based on Irene’s expression, Monika must have known that the news could not be good. Or maybe it was just the fact that Irene showed up in person that warned her something serious had happened.
Irene explained without going into detail. Realizing that her daughter had been murdered was terrible enough for Monika. In closing, Irene said, “The information we have at the moment is scanty. On Monday, I’m driving down with one of my colleagues to try and find out more.”
Monika’s husband was at home and helped Irene comfort her. Unfortunately, the five-year-old daughter was also at home. She watched, wide eyed, as her mother cried. Pretty soon she started crying as well, mostly because her mother was.
Irene contacted the parish priest. Her name was Eva Nesbo and her voice sounded young. Without hesitation she promised to come right away. The doorbell rang after fifteen minutes. Irene opened it and let in a blond woman in a pastor’s shirt and Levi’s. She apologized for her attire, but she had dropped what she was doing and come right away. Briefly, Irene brought the young minister up to speed on what had happened.
On the way home, Irene felt as if a large black hole was opening up inside her. She had vented her sorrow and despair indirectly. Yet even though no one would ever blame her for Isabell’s death, she blamed herself. If she hadn’t clumsily gone around Copenhagen looking for Isabell at the same time she was chasing a terrifying killer, Isabell would still be alive. How had the murderer found out about her private investigation? Only the three Danish police officers knew of it. The murderer must have felt threatened, and decided to give Irene a warning, and singled out an innocent victim with a connection to Irene.
Poor Isabell. What had the end of her life been like? Irene tortured herself with thoughts and images surrounding Isabell’s murder. It was a sheer miracle that she managed to get home in one piece. During the drive she decided to tell the twins and Krister as much as she could. It would be in the newspapers very soon anyway.
Just after ten o’clock, Irene put her key into the lock of the door to her home. A heavenly smell of Jansson’s Temptation hit her when she opened it. Sammie whirled toward her and welcomed her. The rest of her family was seated in the kitchen.
“Hi. It smells great,” she said. Surprised, she noticed her hunger. She hadn’t eaten since lunch. Then she saw the serious expression on the faces of Krister and the twins.
“We know what’s happened,” said Krister.
“Who has. .? How do you know?”
“Jonny Blom called and asked for you. You were going to fix a time to drive down to Copenhagen on Whitmonday. When I asked what you were going to do there, he said that you were going to assist in the investigation of the murder of Isabell Lind. Then I understood what you were doing in Vanersborg. You were speaking with Monika.”
Irene couldn’t keep her eyes from filling with tears; she had only the strength to nod. Krister took her in his arms. He held her close for a long time and Irene absorbed warmth and renewed energy. She freed herself in order to get a big piece of paper towel with which to dry her tears and blow her nose. Through the teary mist she saw her daughters’ pale and resolute faces.
“I’m going to try and tell you exactly what’s happened, but it’s a long story,” she said.
Chapter 9
YOU SHOULDN’T EAT JANSSON’S Temptation right before you go to bed, especially if you have problems that can affect your night’s sleep. Irene lay awake and tried to digest her agonizing thoughts and that anchovies-in- cream-sauce dish until the early hours of the morning. When dawn broke, she fell into an uneasy slumber.
The alarm clock buzzed at six thirty on the dot. Irene felt as if she had spent the night in a clothes dryer. Her body was stiff, and she was reluctant to get up. There was only one sensible thing to do. She went down to the laundry room and put on her newly washed jogging suit, tying her jogging shoes on the way out.
An early-morning chill was still in the air, and the sky was covered by thin gray veil-like clouds, but they looked as though they would blow away during the day. She started at a pretty high speed in order to get her pulse rate up. As usual, she took the turn down toward Fiskeback’s small boat harbor and up along the back roads toward Langedrag. A short run of five kilometers would have to be enough. It was best not to be too late for the morning prayers since she was already in disfavor with the superintendent.
THE OTHER were already seated when Irene steamed in. She mumbled something apologetically about the car not wanting to start. Since everyone knew Irene’s almost-thirteen-year-old Saab, they didn’t question her excuse.
“Now that everyone is here, we can start. Jonny is on vacation but he was briefed before he left. So it’s just
