of bread and some potatoes.”
“Okay,” Winter said. “You’ve just locked the car and are about to walk away from it. What happens then?”
“She comes up to me after I’ve turned around and maybe taken a step or two.”
“You didn’t see her before?”
“No.”
“Did you see this woman after you parked but before you got out of the car?”
“No. Not that I remember.”
“So you got out of the car and took a few steps. What happened then?”
“Like I said. She came up to me with that damn envelope.”
“She had an envelope?”
“Yeah.”
“What did it look like?”
“What are you asking about that for? You already have it for Christ’s sake. You took it from the glove compartment.”
“Did it look like this?” Winter held up a white A5 envelope. “Go ahead and take it.”
Jakobsson held it in front of him. “It’s the same size, but this one was brown.”
“She came up to you, you say. You say she had the envelope. Could you see it? Was she holding it out in the open?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She asked me if I wanted to make a little cash. Well, she didn’t say ‘a little,’ come to think of it-she just asked if I wanted to make some cash.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I guess I must have just stared at her.”
“Describe what she looked like.”
“There wasn’t a lot you could see. Black sunglasses and a hat, so I couldn’t see any hair, but she wore a shirt and pants. That’s what I remember.”
“Was she white?”
“What do you mean, white?”
“What color skin did she have? Was she white or black?”
“Well, she wasn’t a black person, if that’s what you’re asking. She had a tan, I guess, but the shades were so big they covered almost her whole face.”
We’ll have to return to this later, Winter thought. He’s got more to tell us about her appearance. “What did she say?”
“I just told you, she asked if I wanted to make some cash.”
“What did you answer?”
“Nothing. I stared at her like a fucking idiot. It’s fucking creepy, someone just popping up out of nowhere like that and handing you an envelope.”
“What did she say then?”
“She said that I could make some cash if I did her a little favor, and then she told me what it was-that I was to go to the post office at the end of every month and pay this rent and write down the number of the apartment. That was it.”
“What was the envelope for?”
“That’s where the money was, for Christ’s sake. And a paper with the depo-direct deposit number and the other number.”
“Where’s that slip of paper now?”
“I threw it away.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I remembered the number. I have a good memory for numbers, see. And of course I wasn’t so stupid as not to realize that it had to be something a little shady. In which case you shouldn’t hang on to any little slips of paper. Never keep slips of paper-that’s my motto.”
Jakobsson looked as if he was going to smirk, and Winter felt the skin tighten around his scalp. He was full of impatience, but he kept it suppressed beneath the calm that was necessary for him to be able to make it through the interrogation.
“Say the number,” Winter said. “The direct deposit number.”
“What?”
“You’ve got a good memory for numbers, right. You said earlier that you had to pay two rents and that you had received five thousand for your trouble. Then you must remember the number.”
“Three rents,” Jakobsson said, “and I got ten thousand. Talk about a memory for numbers, huh?” He looked at Cohen, who nodded. “This guy doesn’t even remember if it was two or three rents.” Cohen nodded again.
“Okay,” Winter said. “Let’s hear the direct deposit number, then.”
Jakobsson stared at the tape recorder. The air-conditioning droned, and finally he cleared his throat. “Damn it, it’s this interrogation. It makes me nervous. It’s not so strange. You don’t even remember how many rents it was.”
“You don’t remember the number?”
“Sure I do, just not right now. I have to pay another rent, don’t I? Then I gotta remember.”
“Where is the money?” Winter asked, well aware of the answer.
“Are you kidding me? You think I’ve got it in the bank?”
“So where, then?”
“Spent, Mr. Chief Inspector. Consumed, you might say. And a long time ago.”
“What was the number you were supposed to write on the payment slip at the post office?”
“What?”
“You were supposed to write another number too. What was it?”
“I’ll know it when I’m standing there.”
“You won’t be standing there anymore.”
“No. But you know what I mean. When I have to remember, I do. It’s kind of like this motto I’ve got.”
“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Winter said, edging closer to the table.
“Nobody tells me anything.”
“This is about murder and kidnapping.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“You’re involved.”
“How the hell can I be involved? What did you say-kidnapping? Murder? What the f-You guys know me, well, not you maybe, but ask some of the other officers in the building. Go on! How the hell can anyone think that Oskar Jakobsson would be involved? Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Where’s the slip of paper?”
“I told you I threw it away.”
“Where?”
“In the garbage, for fuck’s sake. At home.”
“When?”
“When? Ages ago. When I got the stuff from the woman.”
Winter decided to reveal something else to him about the reason for their interest, and at this Cohen stood up and went to get some coffee. Jakobsson then said he was dying for a smoke, and Winter took out the pack of Princes he had bought and handed it to him, lighting Jakobsson’s cigarette and a Corps for himself.
“I might have it at home,” Jakobsson said.
“So you didn’t take it with you when you were going to pay the rent at the post office? You’ve got to help me out here a little,” Winter said.
“Okay, okay. I threw it away afterward.”
“You threw it away? When?”
