“It’s escalating.”
“I wonder what’s going on. And here we were thinking peace had taken hold.”
“We trusted the motorcycle-borne youth,” Winter said.
“Most of them are older than you are.” Ringmar scratched himself again. “Something’s gotten them rattled,” he said.
“You can say that again.”
Ringmar knew Winter was referring to the shoot-out at Varvaderstorget. “On the other hand, it’s not the first time the Angels have taken potshots at each other in the midst of us mortals. It’s part of their business model.”
“You mean-”
“Terror is their business model. It’s good to spread fear.”
“Except for the ones that get shot.”
“Jonne’s gonna be all right, thank God.”
“We’ll have to see if we can get our hands on Bolander again.”
“He’s gone to ground.”
“An underground Angel,” Winter said. “Just like the devil. A fallen angel.”
“Speaking of shoot-outs, that Kurd was sent home today. So we have finally carried out the good edict of the state.”
“I know.”
“Poor bastard. You think he hoped to be indicted for threatening to shoot himself and the kid?”
“For unlawful threat? I don’t know. We don’t fall for that anymore. He’d have had a chance only if he’d actually succeeded in doing what he said he was going to do.”
“Then we would have taken it seriously.”
Or if he’d had a slick lawyer to get him a stay by entering an insanity plea, thought Winter. But there was no sign of that, of course. The man had behaved completely normally, possibly a little overwrought, but perhaps there were reasons for it that they didn’t understand.
“I’m sure he’ll be happy,” Ringmar said.
Winter was busy working his way through the pile of Jennie’s drawings when the phone rang. He lifted it with his right hand and held a picture of a sparse forest and open sky in his left.
“You seem to have stopped going home altogether,” his sister said.
“Hi, Lotta.”
“Do you have a bed in that office?”
“It hasn’t reached that point yet.”
“Can you get away for a few hours next Saturday?”
“What’s happening then?”
“A little party. I think I mentioned something about it earlier. I’m turning an even number of years. Far too many.”
“Weren’t you going to Marbella?”
“I see you’ve spoken to Mother.”
“Or the other way around.”
“I’m going later. So, what do you say?”
“Where is it?”
“Here at my place. If that makes any difference.”
“Saturday night?”
“Yes, from about six on. Nothing formal, some punch and then dinner. No assigned seating. If you want, you can sit in the kitchen.”
“In that case.”
“Good. I’ll put your name down.”
“I really don’t know if I can, Lotta.”
“I see.”
“I’ll come if I can. Maybe.”
“You can’t damn well spend every waking hour investigating! Not to mention the few you’re asleep, knowing you.”
“I’ll do my best to be there next Saturday evening. At six o’clock.”
“The invitation includes Angela, of course.”
“Angela,” Winter repeated.
“Your girlfriend or lady friend or whatever you want to call her. Remember her?”
37
BEIER RETURNED FROM SUNDSVALL ROSY CHEEKED.
“There was a scent of snow in the air,” he said from his office chair.
“It’s not like you were all the way up in Kiruna,” said Winter, sitting opposite him.
“Norrland is Norrland. They’re very particular about that up there.”
“Have you discussed it with Sture?”
“I just got here, as you well know. And Sture doesn’t like talking about his northern roots.”
“Maybe he’s hiding something.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Which leads me to the reason for my visit.”
“You’re quick. I expect it’s the usual demand from homicide. ‘You must have something.’ But I haven’t had time to speak to the team since returning from my educational trip.”
“When?”
“Give me an hour.”
The telephone in Winter’s jacket pocket rang when he passed through the security gate leading out of the forensics department.
“Winter.”
“Hi, Erik.”
“Good morning, Mother.”
“We read in the
“That was ages ago.”
“We took a trip to Portugal with some close friends of ours, and when we came home we went through the pile of newspapers, and then I thought I should call and ask you if you were involved. The newspaper didn’t say anything about that.”
“I wasn’t involved in any way.”
“That’s a relief.”
Winter walked down the steps, meeting Wellman outside the elevators on the fourth floor. Wellman nodded and stepped in through the elevator’s steel doors.
“Are you there, Erik?”
“I’m here.”
“It’s so awful about that woman getting murdered.”
“Yes.”
“You still don’t know who she is?”
“No.”
“How dreadful.”
“Guess I’d better-”
“Lotta has postponed her trip down here.”
