The Shadow Woman

plates that began with the letter H. That was what they knew about this man. But he looked like a nice old man. Georg Bremer’s head was as bare as Fredrik Halders’s, but he had a mustache that was dark and didn’t look dyed. His shirt was light blue and open to a neck wizened with age. He wore black trousers held up by a brown belt.

He seems almost withered, Djanali thought.

Bremer continued to look out through the window, and his profile hardened suddenly when the sun disappeared. Seconds later the sun reemerged from behind a cloud and the light softened his face again.

That was strange, thought Djanali. The shadow sort of sliced off his jaw. How silly. I’ve become obsessed with jawlines since getting my own smashed.

“We’ve been trying to get in touch with you,” Halders said. “Don’t you listen to your answering machine?”

“I’ve been away for a while. Got home yesterday and just haven’t gotten round to it.”

Damn courteousness, thought Halders. We shouldn’t bother calling ahead. We ought to come barging in just when the family is sitting down to dinner and ask what the hell Daddy or Mommy’s car was doing in the vicinity of Delsjo Lake in the dead of night. Make people choke. On their shame if nothing else.

“It’s about your car,” Halders said. “It’s just routine, as I’m sure you understand.”

“Don’t you want to take a seat?”

“Thank you,” Djanali said.

She sat down on a couch that was green and worn. Halders remained standing, as did their host.

“What about my car?” Bremer asked.

“You drive a white ’92 Ford Escort?”

“A ’92? Is that when it’s from? I really don’t know. I’ll have to look at the registration.”

“See, we’re checking up on the owners of a certain type of car, who might be able to help us solve a case.”

“What case is that?”

“A murder.”

“And a Ford Escort is involved?”

“One was seen close to where the body was found on the night in question. We’re hoping that the driver of that car may have seen something.”

“Like what? And where?”

Halders looked at Djanali, who sat in the couch with her notepad.

“The night we’re talking about was August 18,” Halders said. “Back when it was still hot summer.”

“That’s not something you forget. I sweated half to death out here.”

“Guess we pretty much all did, every man jack of us.” Halders eyed Aneta again. “And woman.”

“I was here then anyway,” Bremer said. “And so was the car.”

“Okay,” Halders said.

“I didn’t see any car out front,” Djanali said.

“It’s been at the shop since last Friday. Started leaking oil like a sieve. You can probably see for yourselves out there on the driveway.”

“When did you take it in to get fixed?”

“Day before yesterday. I tried to have a look at it myself, but it’s probably the oil pan. And I get dizzy if I spend too much time under the car.”

“But you said you were away yesterday?”

“Yeah, so? What is this, an interrogation?”

“No no. I was just wondering since it’s a little out of the way-you need some kind of vehicle to get out here, don’t you?”

“Well, you sure don’t walk all the way from the bus. But I have a motorbike that I dust off from time to time. It’s out in the barn, if you want to have a look-see.”

“Where is the car?” Djanali asked.

Bremer named the repair shop.

Djanali wrote down the address. “That’s pretty far away from here,” she said.

“That’s how it is sometimes. You gotta go to the ones that offer the best prices.”

“So you’ve checked around?” Halders asked.

“Well, you pick up on these things. Found it through a friend of a friend, you might say.”

“How far is your closest neighbor?”

“You gonna ask me about their cars too?”

“We didn’t see any houses on the way here.”

“I guess there are a few out in the forest at the end of the road, but I’m pretty much on my own out here. There’s a farm to the right a few miles up the road. I think it’s more of a summerhouse. I knew the last owner, but the new ones I only wave to a few times a year when I see them.”

45

SVEN-ANDERS BORG OPENED THE DOOR, PROPPED UP ON A crutch.

“Been playing football?” Ringmar asked.

“I wish. Bad circulation. If it continues like this, they’ll probably have to take it off.” He looked down at his left leg.

“It’s not that bad, is it, Sven?”

The retired homicide detective shrugged. “And now I’m back in horrible reality. Guess you better come in.”

They walked through the hall and into a room lit up from the garden out back. Unwashed windows couldn’t block out the sunlight, only dampen it. Dust swirled in the air. It smelled of tobacco and fried onions. A radio was speaking in some other part of the house.

Borg sat down heavily on one of the armchairs and waved to the couch opposite. “Have a seat, guys.”

They sat and Ringmar started to speak.

“I was thinking about it,” Borg cut in. “It’s one hell of a case. A real nightmare investigation. Nothing at first, then everything all at once. You don’t even have time to sort through all the stuff.”

“No,” Ringmar said. “We were talking about that on the way out here.”

“Had I known before, I would have gotten in touch. Maybe I would have made the connection between the name, Helene, and that last name. What was it again? Dellmer?”

“Dellmar.”

“Dellmar. Right. But you haven’t released it.”

“We haven’t had the chance,” Winter said. “We’re busy sorting through everything, like you said.”

Borg sounded like he sighed, then looked up at the ceiling and then at Ringmar. “Here’s more or less how the whole thing went down. We heard about the kid being left at the hospital-well, and then we got the name of the mother. Dellmar, that is. And she had a record. Once we had her name we started looking, but she wasn’t at the apartment out in Frolunda and nowhere else either. Vanished into thin air.”

“So she’s been missing ever since,” Ringmar said. “And you never found any leads, as I understand.”

“In a way we had a lot to go on,” Borg said. “That robbery didn’t exactly go down without a trace.”

“So she was identified in connection with that,” Winter said. “How certain were you?”

Borg looked at Winter as if the young dandy had asked a trick question. He’d left the force before the kid had made inspector, and maybe that was just as well. “How certain? Guess you’d better ask the Danes that. What can I say, of course we believed it. How certain is certain? I don’t know if it’s possible now to get further than we did. There was no video surveillance back then, but a couple inside the bank saw the car drive off and saw the woman. She’d turned around or something. I’m a little rusty on the details. You’ll have to look that up for yourselves in the files.”

“Of course,” Ringmar said.