Jeanette thought about what she actually knew of her colleague, and had to concede that it wasn’t much.
Hurtig grew up in Kvikkjokk, went to school in Jokkmokk, then high school in Boden. He spent a few years working after that – she couldn’t remember what he did – then, when Ume? University started training police officers, he was in the first group of students. After doing work experience with the police in Lule? he applied for a transfer to Stockholm. Nothing but facts, she thought, nothing more personal than the fact that he lived alone in an apartment on S?dermalm. Girlfriend? Maybe.
‘Why’s he in the hospital in G?llivare?’ she said. ‘They still live in Kvikkjokk, don’t they?’
He stopped eating and looked at her. ‘Do you seriously think there’s a hospital there, in a village with about fifty inhabitants?’
‘Is it that small? In that case I get it. So your mum had to drive your dad to the hospital in G?llivare? But that must be a hell of a way.’
‘It’s about two hundred kilometres to the hospital, it usually takes about four hours by car.’
‘Wow,’ Jeanette said, feeling embarrassed at her poor grasp of geography.
‘Yes, it’s not easy. Lapland’s big. Fucking big.’
Hurtig sat in silence for a moment before going on.
‘Do you think it was any good?’
‘What do you mean?’ Jeanette gave him a quizzical look.
‘Dad’s thumb.’ He grinned again. ‘Do you think the cat appreciated it? There can’t be that much meat on an old Lapp bastard’s thumb. What do you think?’
Hurtig is Sami, she thought. Something else I had no idea about. She decided to say yes next time he asked if she wanted to go for a beer. If she was going to be a good boss and not just pretend to be one, it was time she got to know her subordinates.
Jeanette picked up her tray, stood and went to get two cups of coffee. She grabbed a few biscuits and went back. ‘Anything new about the phone call?’
Hurtig swallowed. ‘Yes, I got a report just before I came down here.’
‘And?’ Jeanette sipped at the hot coffee.
Hurtig put his knife and fork down. ‘As we suspected. The call was made from the vicinity of the DN Tower. To be more precise, from R?lambsv?gen. How about you?’ Hurtig picked up a biscuit and dunked it in his coffee. ‘What have you been doing this morning?’
‘I had an interesting conversation with Ivo Andri?. Looks like the boy was full of chemicals.’
‘What?’ Hurtig looked curious.
‘Large amounts of anaesthetic. Injected.’ Jeanette took a deep breath. ‘Probably against his will.’
‘Oh, fuck.’
That afternoon she tried to get hold of Prosecutor von Kwist, but his secretary told her that he was currently in Gothenburg to take part in a debate on television, and that he wouldn’t be back until the next day.
Jeanette went onto the programme’s website and read that the debate was going to be about escalating levels of violence in the suburbs. Kenneth von Kwist, who advocated firm measures and longer sentencing, was expected to attack the previous minister of justice.
On her way out Jeanette stopped off to see Hurtig, and arranged to meet him at ten o’clock at Central Station. They needed to try to talk to some of the children who hung out beneath the bridge as soon as possible.
Gamla Enskede – Kihlberg House
AT HALF PAST four the traffic on St Eriksgatan was complete chaos.
The old Audi had cost Jeanette eight hundred kronor for parts and two bottles of Jameson, but she thought it was worth every ?re. The car was running like clockwork after ?hlund repaired it.
Tourists from the country, unused to the frantic pace of the capital, were doing their best to share the limited space with the more experienced locals. It wasn’t going terribly well.
Stockholm’s roadways had been constructed during an age when there were far fewer cars, and to be honest it was more suitable for a small town the size of H?rn?sand than a city with a million inhabitants. The fact that one of the lanes on the Western Bridge was closed for roadworks did nothing to help the situation, and it took Jeanette over an hour to get home to Gamla Enskede. Under more favourable circumstances it took less than fifteen minutes.
As she stepped through the door she almost bumped into Johan and ?ke. They were going off to a football match, and were wearing identical shirts and carrying matching green-and-white scarves. They looked confident and expectant, but Jeanette knew from experience that they’d be back in a few hours with all their hopes in ruins.
‘We’re going to win today!’ ?ke gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and herded Johan out of the door. ‘See you later.’
‘I probably won’t be here when you get back.’ Jeanette saw ?ke’s mood change. ‘I need to go out on a job, I should be back sometime after midnight.’
He shrugged, looked up at the ceiling, then went out to join Johan.
This wasn’t the first time they had met briefly in the doorway, only to part a moment later. Two entirely separate lives under the same roof, she thought. Smiles transformed into looks of disappointment and irritation.
She and ?ke. On their way in different directions, with different dreams. More friends than lovers.
Jeanette shut the door after them, kicked off her shoes, and went into the living room, where she threw herself down on the sofa in the hope of getting some rest. In about three hours she’d have to set off again, and hoped she might manage a short nap at least.
Thoughts drifted aimlessly in her head, aspects of the case blurring into practical matters. Grass that needed cutting, letters to be written, interviews to be arranged. She was supposed to be a mum who kept an eye on her child. A woman with the capacity to love and feel desire.
And alongside that she was supposed to have time for her life. Dreamless sleep without any real respite. A short break in the otherwise perpetual motion. A brief period of calm in the lifelong business of moving her body from one place to another.
Sisyphus, she thought.
Central Bridge
THE TRAFFIC HAD thinned out, and as she parked the car she could see from the clock above the entrance to Central Station that it was twenty to ten. She got out of the car, shut the door and locked it. Hurtig was standing by a fast-food stall with a hot dog in each hand. When he caught sight of Jeanette he gave her an almost embarrassed smile. As if he were doing something forbidden.
‘Dinner?’ Jeanette nodded at the impressively large sausages.
‘Here, have one.’
‘Have you seen if there are any of them here?’ Jeanette took the proffered hot dog and gestured towards the Central Bridge.