“And?”
“I heard him typing on the computer.”
“But you didn’t see him?”
“No... I...”
“So somebody else could have been there?”
“But...”
“Think a bit more now, did you see anybody else in the office, did you notice any detail, item of clothing or anything else?”
“I’m trying to think.”
“And I’m trying to get you to think quicker.”
“I believe I saw an arm through the crack in the door. A lilac arm.”
“And if you think a bit more, who might have such an arm at the office?”
“I don’t know...but perhaps...”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps it could have been his secretary, Lena.”
*
Lena Wikstr?m was feeling uneasy. She fingered her gold necklace and bit her lip. She felt sick when she thought about Thomas Rydberg not being there any longer. That he had been murdered. In the docks. By whom?
She felt even more sick when she looked at her cell which still lay on the bed on top of the blanket. Two lamps on the dresser were turned on, and light fell on the three frames which were placed between them. Happy children’s faces with midsummer garlands, a reminder of the last summer. Small imitation crystals hung from a white enamel ceiling light.
Who had phoned?
She let go of the necklace and opened one of the wardrobe doors, pulled out a suitcase and put it next to the phone on the bed.
She had never before been called on that number. She was the only one who initiated the communication. Nobody else. That was the arrangement. The others were only allowed to text messages, which were memorized by the recipient and deleted forever. Nobody ever phoned. That was how it worked. Now the rule had been broken.
By whom?
She hadn’t recognized the number. Now she didn’t dare touch the phone. Just let it lie there on the bed.
Lena unzipped the suitcase. Her instinct was to just run away. Of course it could have been a wrong number. A mistake. But she wasn’t really convinced. The worry of being exposed was simply too great for her to just let the call pass.
She opened another wardrobe door and picked out three cardigans, a blouse and four tops. She didn’t bother about underclothes, just packed what was on top in the drawer.
She could buy some new clothes wherever she went. She had often thought this day would come some time; she knew it would eventually come. Even so, she had no idea where to go. Where she could run to.
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
Her hands froze on the suitcase. She wasn’t expecting a visitor.
Lena looked out through the bedroom window, which faced the front door. But she couldn’t see anybody.
With a growing sense of unease, she tiptoed out from the bedroom, through the living room, past the bathroom and into the hall. She looked through the peephole in the door but her eye only met with darkness.
With both hands she unlocked the door, then the two extra locks and looked out through the narrow chink.
A woman was standing there outside.
“Hello, Lena,” said the woman and put her foot in the door.
*
“What have we got on Lena?” said Gunnar ?hrn.
They were all standing around the conference table. Everybody felt the tension in the room.
“She is 58 years old, unmarried, two adult children, her son lives in Sk?vde and her daughter in Stockholm. No criminal record,” Ola S?derstr?m read out.
“So what do we do now?” said Mia.
“We must bring her in for questioning,” said Henrik.
“But so far all we have is a scatterbrained teenager who thinks he might have seen her in Juhlén’s office that Sunday,” said Mia.
“I know, but for the moment that’s the most important lead we’ve got,” said Henrik.
“Henrik’s right. It’s important that we follow up on this. Straightaway!”
Gunnar looked serious. He pointed a finger at himself.
“I’m going there. Henrik and Mia, you’re coming with me.”
He left the room and Henrik and Mia were right behind him.
Ola was left on his own.
He knocked on the tabletop, absorbed the news that the investigation had at last gained some momentum, and went into his room to start up the computer. Then he took his lunchbox into the staff kitchen and put it in the fridge.
On his way back, he just happened to notice a bundle of papers in Gunnar ?hrn’s in-box. He picked up the bundle to see what they were. They were conversation logs from a mobile operator. The number belonged to Thomas Rydberg.
Ola had a quick look at the lists. When he came to the page with outgoing text messages, he was astounded. Then he suddenly found himself in a hurry, ran across to the lift and frantically pressed the button to catch up with his colleagues.
*
Lena Wikstr?m didn’t have time to react when Jana Berzelius pushed her way in and closed the door behind her. It wasn’t very light in the hall, but Jana could see some china figures and an embroidered cloth above a sideboard. A mirror with an ornamental frame. A frosted shade on the ceiling light.
Jana stood absolutely still on the mat in the hall. There was something familiar about the woman in front of her. She didn’t know what.
“Who are you?” Lena said and riveted her eyes on Jana.
“My name is Jana Berzelius. I’m investigating the murder of Hans Juhlén.”
“Indeed? But what are you doing inside my home at this time of day?”
“I need some answers.”
Lena stared uncomprehendingly at the woman in high-heeled shoes and a dark trench coat.
“I can’t help you.”
“Oh yes, you can,” said Jana and went straight into the kitchen.
“You can’t just come in like this,” said Lena.
“Yes I can, and if you object then I’ll issue a search warrant. Then I’ll have every right to be here.”
Lena sighed.
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Hans Juhlén was murdered in his home,” Jana said.
“That’s not a question.”
“No.”
Lena walked up to the front door and locked it. She carefully opened a drawer and slowly lifted out a gun, which she pushed inside the waistband of her trousers. Then she put her sweater over it and that nicely hid the bulge. Then she went into the kitchen with a forced smile on her lips.
“So, what’s the question?” Lena said.
“Hans Juhlén was murdered at approximately 7:00 p.m. When the police went through his computer they found some identification numbers for shipping containers. The combinations were deleted from the computer at half past six. So he couldn’t have done that himself. Was it you?”
Lena was at a loss for what to say. She suddenly felt pressure over her chest.
Jana went on: “I have an important reason to find out what was in those containers.”
“I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave.”
“I just want to know.”
“You will leave my home.”
Jana remained standing by the table while Lena slowly moved her hand behind her back, toward the gun.
“I’ll stay until I get an answer,” said Jana. She had seen Lena’s hand had started to move behind her back and made herself ready for what might come next.
The very moment Lena took the gun up from her waistband, Jana threw herself forward, hit Lena against her kidneys with the side of her hand, then kneed her in the stomach. Lena lost her grip on the gun and groaned from shock as well as the dreadful pain.
Jana checked the gun, which was loaded, cocked the trigger and crouched down in front of Lena. She could see something glimmer around Lena’s neck.
Something goldish.
The floor rocked when she saw what it was. Everything started swimming before her eyes, and she heard a roaring in her ears. Her temples ached and her pulse was so high, it hurt.
A necklace.
With a name.
Mama.
*
The elevator descended extremely slowly. At least it felt like it did.