She placed both steaming cups on the desk and went out again. She caught sight of Hannu at the far end of the corridor. He had just reached his office when she returned with Hans Pahliss’s coffee.
The virologist was packing his papers into a large briefcase. His thin hands, with their long, sensitive fingers, nervously closed all the locks and set the combination numbers. If she hadn’t known his profession she would have guessed he was a pianist. He folded up his frameless reading glasses and put them in the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clasped his hands in front of him on the desk, and looked challengingly at Irene.
“Well,” said Hans Pahliss.
There was no question in his voice. It was a command to start the conversation.
“Anders Gunnarsson has probably talked to you about what has happened,” Irene started.
Hans Pahliss nodded.
“How well did you know Marcus?”
“We were good friends.”
“Did you speak with Marcus when he called at the beginning of March?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t home.”
“Did Anders tell you that he had called?”
“Yes.”
“What did Anders say?”
“What did he say? That Marcus had called. That he was in a hurry because he was going to pack for a trip to Thailand.”
“Did Marcus say who he was going to travel with?”
“No. We speculated a bit about it.”
“Did you come up with who it could be?”
“No. It could have been anyone.”
“Were you aware that Anders and Marcus had been together?”
“Yes.”
“How did that affect your feelings toward Marcus?”
“It didn’t affect me at all.”
“Not at all?”
“No.”
Pahliss hadn’t touched his coffee mug. He maintained eye contact with Irene. A quick thought about the unfairness of nature flickered through Irene’s brain. Long eyelashes like that should not belong to a man. The next thought that struck her was how different Anders Gunnarsson and Hans Pahliss were. The dentist had been open and talkative while the virologist seemed to be his exact opposite.
Hannu had been sitting quietly during Irene’s preliminary questions but now he leaned forward suddenly and said, “Have you been to Copenhagen?”
Pahliss looked both surprised and irritated when he answered. “Of course.”
“As a tourist or for a longer period of time?”
“I was a guest researcher for two months at the state hospital.”
Irene realized that she had been holding her breath. Hannu continued without showing that he noticed. “When was that?”
“February and March 1997.”
“Where did you live?”
“What does it matter? What does this have to do with Marcus-” He stopped, struck by a thought.
“Of course. I understand. Naturally, Marcus also stayed with Emil,” he said shortly.
Irene’s pulse rate increased so much that her ears hummed. Did she have a predisposition to high blood pressure, like the superintendent? Her voice was almost shaky when she asked, “Did you live with Emil Bentsen when you were in Copenhagen?”
“Yes. I got his address from an acquaintance here in Goteborg. His rooms were centrally located, cheap and good. I gave the address to Marcus when he asked me about places to live in Copenhagen.”
“You gave him Emil’s address?”
“Yes.”
“But then you knew where Marcus was living in Copenhagen.”
For the first time something that could be interpreted as a smile crossed Pahliss’s face.
“We didn’t know. Marcus went around and asked everyone he knew about places to stay in Copenhagen. He was loaded down with addresses when he left. He was going to stay at a hotel the first few days and then let us know when he had decided on a permanent address.”
Hans Pahliss suddenly seemed to discover his mug on the desk and took a large gulp of the lukewarm coffee.
“But he never did?”
“No.”
They finally had an explanation for how Marcus had ended up at Emil’s. Irene’s thoughts were interrupted when Hannu asked, “Who gave you Emil’s address?”
For the first time, Pahliss looked uncertain. But when he realized that the police officers had noticed his hesitancy, he said with assurance, “Actually one of my exes. Before you ask: yes, Anders knows him and we hang out as friends.”
His tone of voice sharpened.
“Who?” Hannu repeated.
“Pontus Zander.”
“How did he know Emil Bentsen?”
“No idea.”
“How can we reach Pontus Zander?”
“The emergency room at Sahlgren Hospital. He’s a nurse. Otherwise he lives on Kungshojd.”
Pahliss gave them Zander’s address and telephone number.
Irene quickly asked the next question. “You were in Copenhagen in February and March of 1997. Did you return there at the end of May that year?”
Pahliss shook his head with emphasis. “No. I didn’t return until just before Christmas 1997.”
“Did you live with Emil Bentsen then?”
“No. It was just for four days. Anders was with me. We stayed at a hotel.”
“Did you keep in touch with Emil after you had moved?”
Pahliss looked uncertain again. “No. I sent a Christmas card that year but there was nothing else.”
“Did you spend time with Emil while you were living there?”
Now Pahliss became irritated. “I didn’t live with him. I rented an apartment from him. We hardly saw each other. During the two months I stayed there I was rarely home before ten. Then I stumbled into bed and slept. Research is not a nine-to-five job.”
“What did you think about Emil?”
“Nothing. As I said, we didn’t spend any time together.”
He stopped and looked sharply at Hannu. “Why are you asking about Emil Bentsen?”
Irene was the one who revealed Emil’s murder. Hans Pahliss didn’t interrupt her. When she was finished, he sat in silence. Finally he whispered, “What is happening? First Marcus and now Emil. .”
Irene tried to choose her words. “There have been two other murders that bear the signature of this murderer. But those victims were women. It is the dismemberment and. . a few other things that indicate it’s the same killer. Our medical examiners say that the killer’s method points to a strong familiarity with autopsy procedures,” she said.
Irene paused dramatically in order to see Pahliss’s reaction. There was none. She continued, “We think that both Marcus and Emil knew the killer. There is a possibility that you and Anders also know him. You happen to be a doctor and may also know others who could-”
“No! None of the doctors I know could do such a thing! Doctors don’t do that sort of thing!”
