“Yes. A suitable place must have been chosen in advance to enable the murderer to do all that he did to the body. So he must have decided to kill his victim beforehand.”
When Hannu agreed, Irene felt an ice-cold chill. That was what was so terrible. Carmen Ostergaard, Marcus Tosscander, and Isabell Lind had never had a chance. The murderer had already decided. Beforehand.
Chapter 10
FOR ONCE KRISTER DIDN’T have to work over the weekend. Irene’s mother and her significant other, Sture, were invited for dinner on Whitsunday in order to give a full account of their wine trip to the Moselle Valley. Krister was looking forward to it with eager expectation because, naturally, he was hoping for some really exciting samples from the wine district.
Mamma Gerd radiantly handed over two bottles to her son-in-law. Irene saw an expression of disappointment pass over his face but he quickly regained his composure. He warmly thanked his mother-in-law and gave her a big hug. Then he turned the bottles so that Irene could read the labels: Ockfener Scharzberg. Even she knew the brand was available at the state liquor store. But little Mamma didn’t know that. She rarely went there since she hardly drank any alcohol.
Sture wasn’t very familiar with wines, either which Irene realized when he smiled and said, “Gerd and I made a find. We bought a whole case of these bottles in a grocery store for twenty-five D-marks. Amazingly cheap!”
“But didn’t you drive around to different wineries? To do wine tastings and so on. .?”
“Of course, but those wines were so expensive,” chirped Mamma Gerd.
Irene pretended not to notice her husband’s low moan.
There were seven of them for dinner since Katarina had invited Micke to join them. He, too, was still feeling the effects of the accident so they had chosen to join the quiet family dinner at home instead of going to a big party with friends. Perhaps they just wanted to spend some time alone. Irene’s watchful eye noted their warm looks and stolen touches. It really seemed to be serious. They had been together for almost two months, a new record for Katarina.
Jenny was going out later that night. Her band was playing at a newly opened club with her as the lead singer! Irene’s daughter was in seventh heaven and seemed to be somewhere else. Out of pure distraction she almost put a piece of steak on her plate. At the last second she realized what she was about to do-meat! — and quickly put it back on the serving dish.
Krister had put together a wonderful menu for Pentecost. It was perhaps a bit too heavy for Whitsuntide, but Irene and Katarina had been allowed to request their favorite dishes. As an appetizer, they had crab Thermidor, crabmeat baked in a wonderfully spicy wine sauce, served in the shells.
Jenny ate pale celery sticks that she dipped in spicy tomato salsa.
Without revealing what he really thought, Krister served the wine his mother-in-law had brought, along with the first course.
The steak was sliced and covered in dark gravy. Cooked cauliflower, asparagus, lightly steamed sugar peas, peeled tomatoes, and Hasselback potatoes were the main course.
Krister had chosen Clos Malvern to go with the main course and, according to him, the wine had a heavy bouquet, a strong burned and smoky taste, and hints of both chocolate and sun-drenched berries. The hot sun and winds of South Africa had left their mark on this strong dark red wine.
“The wines are so full bodied and flavorful because they fertilize the wineries with elephant dung,” Krister announced with the utmost seriousness.
His mother-in-law and Sture opened their eyes wide and said to each other, “Really! Just imagine!”
But Irene knew her husband well and shook her finger at him. He arched his eyebrows innocently and toasted his wife.
IRENE HAD taken the bus into the city. They were on a holiday schedule since it was Whitmonday. She hadn’t thought about that when she and Jonny had made their appointment, and now she was almost twenty minutes late.
Jonny was standing outside the police station, huddled against the bitter wind. Based on the sour expression on his face, he had been standing and waiting for quite some time.
“Hi. Sorry, but the buses. .”
“You knew that it was a holiday. Women and time!”
Sour was Mr. Blom’s first name today, thought Irene. Obviously he was annoyed about having to come home from Stockholm a day earlier than planned and she was the one who was going to suffer because of it. Then again, though she had arrived late, at least she had apologized. If only she had been allowed to go to Copenhagen on her own.
“We should try and get there by eight at the latest, in time for a late dinner and a big
“Beer. A big Danish beer.”
“Oh.”
That was their entire conversation as they drove the length of Halland’s coast. Since Irene was acquainted with Jonny’s driving, she had insisted on getting behind the wheel of the bureau car. For the most part, Jonny sat dozing with his head hanging. He didn’t wake up until they had driven onto HH-Ferries in Helsingborg. But he was first in line at the cafeteria. A large draft beer, and bread with a chunk of coarsely ground liver pate with pickles, made him thaw out considerably. Irene went for the coffee and a plate of shrimp. She wasn’t able to finish the slice of bread under it.
They were sitting in the car again after twenty minutes, and then it was time for Irene to drive across the clattering ramp with the same chilly feeling in her stomach as before.
Since she was familiar with the route, they made their way pretty quickly to the highway heading toward Copenhagen.
“Could you go through everything you know about Isabell Lind one more time? It would be good if you could refresh my recollection,” said Jonny.
Irene went over everything she knew. But she didn’t mention Tom Tanaka.
“I don’t know much about the murder itself yet. We’ll find out more tomorrow. But Metz said that the murder of Isabell bears the signature of our murderer even though she wasn’t dismembered. That seems strange,” said Irene.
Jonny nodded. Then he quickly changed the subject. “What is the hotel like?”
“It’s really nice. I booked the rooms via the Internet. It’s the same hotel I stayed in a few days ago. The breakfast is amazing.”
“Are there some nice hangouts in the area?”
“It depends on what you mean by nice hangouts. The hotel is centrally located and everything is close by. It’s just a matter of choosing.”
Jonny nodded in response. Irene noticed that he started paying more attention to the areas they were passing through the closer to Copenhagen they came.
THEY EACH had a single room. To Irene’s silent joy they were not located on the same floor. She took the second-floor room and Jonny, the room on the third. Thanks to this, she would have much more freedom to move around. She suspected that Jonny had similar thoughts, but for entirely different reasons.
They agreed to meet downstairs in fifteen minutes. Even though Irene wasn’t particularly hungry after the pile of shrimp she’d had on the ferry, she realized that it was about time for dinner. If she ate too late, she would have a hard time sleeping.
The room was just as nice and fresh as the one she had had last time. She washed under her arms, put on a few strokes of deodorant, and touched up her makeup. She told her reflection that it wasn’t for Jonny’s sake but for her own.
