and his thoughts. He ought to call Angela. He ought to-
The phone rang, blared. The tone was turned up loud so that he’d be able to hear it if he was out of the office but still close by.
“Okay,” the security consultant said. “This is proving a little complicated. We have routines when it comes to payments made to a blocked account, but flagging a specific payment, well, that’s actually something new.”
“There’s always a first time,” Winter said. “But what can we do?”
“What you’re asking for is for some kind of a trace to be put on a specific payment that’s going to be made at the Molndal post office at the end of this week, lasting up to the second weekday in October.”
“Molnlycke,” Winter said.
“What? Yeah, Molnlycke. Okay. But it’s too little time to be able to fix the computers and cash registers to respond to specific inputs on the screen, and we actually can’t do it anyway, because all we have to go on is the apartment number. In the best case.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“The system won’t let us put a trace on that. And if we were to go by the direct deposit number, then some five thousand people, or however many there are, would find themselves subject to an investigation.”
“I see.”
“There is one thing I can do for you, although it is highly irregular. I can send out a memo to all the different post offices, asking them to try to keep an eye out for these numbers.”
“How do you do that?”
“I’d rather not go into that if I don’t have to.”
“But you can get that out right away?”
“Yeah, pretty much. But like I said, it’s highly irregular. Last time was a few years ago when we tried to stop a currency exchange. It’s really only supposed to be used in cases of extreme importance. Top priority.”
“This is.”
“I realize that. But, well, that’s what we can do.”
“Good.”
Winter imagined millions of computer screens receiving the security consultant’s electronic memo. He thought of the office in Molnlycke. He’d never been in it, had barely even set foot in the district that lay six miles east of the city. But there was a small chance that someone would come back to pay the rent again. If they could just get some discreet surveillance equipment put in place. And not just use the existing security system but also have someone there on the spot. One or two police officers. That is, if there even was any equipment in Molnlycke. A camera. He noted something down on the pad in front of him.
“But there are other ways too,” the security consultant went on. “You could speak to the postmaster in Molnd-Molnlycke about putting up notices for the cashiers at each of the cash registers. So they have the number and maybe reac-”
“Yes, I understand,” Winter said. “I’ve sort of thought of that.”
“Uh, okay. But that’s a right-to-privacy issue. Like a search warrant. The post office needs a written request from a prosecutor.”
“Or from the person in charge of the preliminary investigation,” Winter said. “And that’s me.”
“Sure. I’m just saying you can put a trace on that payment if the people at that office know what the deal is.”
“Thanks for all your help,” Winter said. “I’m very grateful.”
“Then I’ll send out my letter. In case something happens somewhere other than in Molndal.”
Winter pressed down the cradle button again and waited for a dial tone. With his left hand, he flipped to the number in the phone book and called the post-office security department in Gothenburg. A man answered.
“Bengt Fahlander.”
“Hi. Erik Winter from the Gothenburg Police Department here. I’m investigating a murder.”
“Hi.”
Winter explained the background and asked a question.
“We’ve got a camera at Lindome but not in Molnlycke,” Fahlander said. “Molnlycke hasn’t had any equipment like that for quite a while.”
“Why not?”
“Well, the usual. The offices facing the greatest threat get the surveillance equipment. That’s some fifteen offices in the district. Like Lindome. They were robbed a number of times, and in the end we took the initiative to install a CCTV camera.”
“But not in Molnlycke,” Winter said.
“No. But that wouldn’t make any difference anyway,” Fahlander said.
“What do you mean?”
“The video footage. In certain extreme cases we might be authorized to hold on to it for a month, but almost without exception it’s erased after two weeks. Wiped clean, discarded, you might say.”
What is this goddamn obsession with discarding everything? Pretty soon there wouldn’t be anything to go on when you wanted to search back in time. Two weeks back and you hit a brick wall.
“So even if there had been a camera in Molnlycke, the video footage for the day you just mentioned-that film would have been erased,” Fahlander said. “But Molnlycke used to have a camera. For quite a while, I think. Then things calmed down. Crime moved away, you might say.”
“To Lindome,” Winter said. “But now it’s returned, and I would like to set up a camera again.”
“Now?”
“Today, if possible. As soon as possible.”
“You have to submit a formal applic-”
“I know what has to be submitted and to whom. But this is extremely important. And it’s gotta happen quickly.”
“You’re talking surveillance of a public place,” Fahlander said. “That means there have to be signs put up informing the public that the premises are under video surveillance.”
Whose side are you on? Winter wondered. But of course the post-man was right. “Of course,” he said. “Maybe the old ones are still there. Otherwise we can take care of it.”
“Would it be possible to do it a little discreetly?” Fahlander asked.
There were more police officers in the situation room now than when the investigation began what felt like two hundred years ago. It was hot and damp. Ringmar was just opening a window. Winter hung his blazer over the swivel chair and turned to face the group.
“So we’re going to be doing something highly irregular over the next three days-a discreet door to door in North Biskopsgarden, but only as part of the preliminary investigation. We keep quiet about the other stuff.”
Ringmar stood up and continued. “If anybody asks what we’re doing there, we just say that we’re slowly making our way through the whole city, searching for the woman’s identity.”
“Her key,” Bergenhem said. “The one who paid her rent has the key to her apartment.”
“That’s right,” Ringmar said. “Either someone has gone in there and looked around thoroughly for something or Helene Andersen kept her things in an odd sort of order.”
“What else is missing?” Sara Helander asked.
“Her rent slips,” Winter said.
“So the crime-the murder-wasn’t committed in her apartment?”
“Not as far as Beier’s men have been able to determine.”
“Would that be realistic, given how far it is to Delsjo Lake?” Borjesson asked.
“Would what be realistic?”
“For her to have been murdered in her apartment and then taken down to Delsjo Lake.”
“In terms of time, it might be possible, but so far we haven’t found any evidence in her apartment to suggest that.”
“Didn’t it attract a lot of attention when we found out where she lived? Enough that the secret could already be out?” Halders asked.
“There were a few curious onlookers, but it’s not unusual for the police to come calling,” Ringmar said. “I
