Authors: Tina Lindegaard
Devil's Touch (22 page)
"There’s too many things in this case."
He lets his eyes wander into the trees.
"And now I’m talking to myself again!"
He lowers his head and really feels how tired he is. He breathes slowly and sees the layby further up the road. Then he looks back down at the dashboard and finds the clock.
"Just before one... And I’m hungry. Yes, my first priority right now is food."
He steps on the gas and he’s soon back on the wider, paved road. The phone rings and he sighs deeply. He takes it out of his pocket and quickly looks at it before looking back on the road ahead of him.
"Yes."
He hesitates as he wonders a little. He can hear a sigh on the other end.
"Hello, who is it?"
"Hello... This is Petra Jennings. You gave me your card yesterday. You were here because I reported Nathan Wilkins missing."
Fredericsson’s face is full of surprise and he slows down the car.
"Hang on, I need to pull over. I’m just on my way into the city."
"OK."
Petra’s voice is polite and she waits.
"Now I’m ready."
Fredericsson is rummaging around desperately for his notepad. Then he finds an empty page and leans back.
"I’ve just had a call from Vince."
Fredericsson can’t hold back a deep sigh.
"Is there something wrong?"
Petra’s voice sounds concerned.
"Have I done something wrong?"
"No, not you. I just didn’t think that..."
He stops to change the tone of his voice.
"I just didn’t think that Vince would start contacting people."
"Oh, right... Vince called me around eleven to tell me that Nathan had been found dead."
"Eleven?!"
Fredericsson is suddenly rather pleased that he has pulled over and isn’t driving when he slams his hand hard into the wheel. Petra is quiet and only her breathing can be heard faintly.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a problem."
Fredericsson looks at the traffic for a moment.
"It’s not a problem for you. Vince has a problem... But please don’t tell him that."
"Of course. I only want to do the right thing, that’s why I’m calling."
Petra breathes out. Then she takes a deep breath.
"Half an hour ago, I received a letter from Walter, Walter & Walter... and when I heard that Nathan had died..."
Fredericsson hears a small sniffle on the other end and immediately regrets what he just said.
"You gave me your card yesterday and I thought it would be OK to call you direct."
"It’s fine."
Fredericsson controls his voice and thinks he sounds open and friendly now.
"I received the letter."
"Yes?"
It’s quiet on the line and Fredericsson starts to wonder if Petra might be crying. Then he realizes that she’s waiting for him.
"Uh. What does it say?"
"I don’t know. It’s addressed directly to Nathan. We don’t normally do business with Walter, Walter & Walter, so I’m guessing it’s private."
Fredericsson stares ahead and then rubs his eyes.
"What’s so special about that letter?"
"I don’t know if it is, it’s just strange.”
He is filled by confusion and a nagging doubt when a police car turns sharply and brakes in front of him. The officer walks toward him and clearly shows with his arms that he wants Fredericsson to drive on. Fredericsson is annoyed and shakes his head. He’s running out of patience. He puts his hand in his pocket which just makes the officer pull out his gun. Slowly Fredericsson takes out his badge and holds it up against the windshield. The officer slowly comes closer and finally stands next to the car.
"Hello."
Petra’s voice is cautious.
"Hang on."
Fredericsson’s voice is stern and he sounds irritated.
"I can call you back."
"No, wait."
The officer outside nods and the gun disappears. Fredericsson points at his phone and the officer nods and walks back to his car.
"I’m back."
Fredericsson sounds tired and his voice is hoarse.
"Who are these Walter, Walter & Walter?"
"It’s a highly esteemed law firm. They have a reputation for being very honest. An old family firm. People say they always do the right thing. They have been known to turn down clients if they felt that the case went against their ethics."
"Does such a company even exist?"
Fredericsson’s voice is full of surprise.
"Oh, yes. Walter, Walter & Walter is just the biggest and most well-known."
"Nathan is dead. Open the letter."
"Open the letter?!"
She sounds surprised and Fredericsson senses a deep fear in her words.
"Yes, open it. It’s probably just some business you don’t know about."
"Yeah…"
Fredericsson can hear her moving around. Then he hears the sound of the paper knife opening the letter.
"What does it say?"
It’s quiet. Petra is reading. Then he hears the sound of the chair being dragged over the floor, and then it sounds like she’s sitting down again.
"What does it say?"
"It’s Nathan’s will."
Fredericsson lifts his pen from the notepad.
"Will?!"
The word seems to hang in the air in front of him.
"When is it from?"
"The day before yesterday according to the dating. The cover letter is signed by one of the owners. The letter must have been sent after midnight, otherwise it would have been here yesterday."
Fredericsson sinks down deeper in his seat and slides his hands over his eyes.
"Are you sure?"
Fredericsson speaks in a low voice. The line is quiet before she finally answers.
"This makes no sense."
Fredericsson breathes heavily.
"Yes, now I’m sure."
"About what?"
Petra’s voice is just a faint whisper.
"That Nathan killed himself."
Fredericsson can’t hear Petra, but he can sense her breaths that come out in small bursts. When she finally speaks, he can hear the pain in her voice.
"I mean, he’s sick. Sorry, was sick. He had several appointments with his doctor. I was afraid it was cancer which also killed his wife. Not that I had any proof that it was cancer. And maybe I just assumed it was cancer because that’s what his wife died from."
"What’s the name of his doctor?"
"Doctor Brian Holten, downtown."
Fredericsson carefully writes down the name.
"Who inherits him?"
"One moment... You want me to open the will itself?! Isn’t that…?"
Fredericsson takes a deep breath and tries to think.
"Open it. People are dropping like flies around me. I need to know who inherits him so I can prevent more people from dying."
It’s quiet again and Fredericsson waits impatiently beating the tip of his pencil against the paper. He stops when Petra starts to talk in a surprisingly firm and professional voice.
"I do, a little. It’s actually enough so I don’t need to work anymore if I’m careful. He must have gotten the idea from Stuart Pettersson, when Evy Schmidt inherited him."
"I really don’t want to say any more. This is not right."
He rubs his eyes again.
"OK. OK. If that’s the game you want to play. Just one more question. Who else inherits him?”
She doesn’t say anything, but he can hear her breathing.
"You didn’t get this from me... Evy Schmidt."
"How much?"
"The rest."
"The rest?!"
Fredericsson’s thoughts stumble over each other.
"Is it a lot?"
It’s quiet again.
"Yes."
"Yes?"
He repeats.
"Quite a lot, actually."
"She inherits Stuart Pettersson...?"
Petra breathes in before she answers.
"Yes, enough to live a normal life, if I can call it that."
"Oh, sure, that’s the kind of life I have. So go ahead."
Fredericsson can hear the sarcasm in his own voice.
"And now she inherits Nathan who commits suicide."
Fredericsson’s takes a deep breath.
"I’ll drive over to you. I’ll be there in about half an hour."
Fredericsson breaks off the call before Petra has time to object.
Fredericsson throws the phone and the notepad on the seat next to him, puts the car in gear and speeds up. As he swings out onto the road, a couple of cars honk their horn at him, but he doesn’t care and pulls over to the fast lane and speeds up even more. He breaks the speed limit several times but he’s too tired to care. He parks illegally in front of the hospital and puts the drawing that he has just been to the station to fetch in his pocket, and then he purposefully steps into lobby.
"Wait!"
His voice reverberates in the lobby and a frightened woman holds the door for him. When they are both in the elevator, the woman looks at Fredericsson in the mirror. She looks down when he looks up at her. Fredericsson gets out before the door is fully open and only a few steps later he’s standing in Evy’s room.
"You’re one lucky woman."
Evy is sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to him, and it takes a while before she reacts. She hesitates and seems as if she’s far away when she answers Fredericsson without turning.
"I’m not sure that someone trying to cut my throat can be called lucky."
"Hmm, maybe not that part of it exactly."
Fredericsson walks over to the chair by the window and sits down so he can see her face.
"You inherited Stuart."
He studies her and slowly realizes that she looks older than she really is. He is sorry that he hasn’t yet had the time to study the details of the case. He suddenly realizes how much he eventually needs to put in his report.
"And now you are to inherit Nathan Wilkins."
She opens her eyes wider as he leans back to enjoy her profile. He realizes how beautiful she is. Without any make-up it’s not so obvious, but her features become sharper the more he looks at her. They are delicate, almost absent but form a whole that brings out her eyes, her dark lashes and her round lips. She slowly turns to face him and her red lips form a beautiful contrast against her pale skin.
"The lawyer?"
He nods slowly.
"But I don’t know him. I only met him two days ago. You must be mistaken."
He shakes his head.
"You’re wrong."
She repeats and turns her face away from him.
"Eric Taylor was killed last night."
She stares at him intensely.
"How?"
"Someone beat his head in with a champagne bottle."
He looks out the window.
"The doorman saw a woman who came to visit him. She had been there before and yesterday she was with him for longer than usual."
He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out the drawing and hands it to Evy.
"Do you recognize her?"
Evy can’t reach the drawing from the bed. She looks at him for a while before she gets up and walks over to him. She pulls the drawing from his hand with a determination that surprises him. She swallows and gives it back to him. Then she walks over to the window. He looks up and down her body, trying to determine her physical strength.
"Yes, I recognize her."
She touches her bandages lightly. He watches her as she seems to examine the view of the city carefully.
"It itches. They say it’s because it’s healing."
She’s standing so close to the window that it clouds over when she speaks. Fredericsson looks at it and wonders why he hasn’t noticed that the weather has gotten colder. Suddenly he’s actually sweating and he is overwhelmed by how tired he is. He gets up and takes off his coat.
"James Schmidt did this to me."
She has turned around and points to her neck. He stops.
"And I’m scared."
"James Schmidt!"
He lowers his voice.
"Why? I mean, what is your relationship to him?"
Evy looks at him for a long time before she lowers her eyes.
"Men sometimes need company."
He lets his coat fall to the floor and hears the sound of metal.
”The gun. It’s in my pocket.”
He slowly leans back in the chair as he picks up the coat and places it in his lap.
"You hide it well. I suspected it but even after my many years in the job I wasn’t sure. You’re good, but let’s stick to the truth so I can help you."
"I met the woman in the drawing."
She raises her eyes and looks at him.
"Eric and I... and some others often went out together."
"Did they know that you...?"
She shakes her head almost imperceptibly.
"You’re good. Don’t get me wrong..."
"I won’t. Not after all my years of..."
She smiles. He smiles back but his smile is soon gone.
"I’ve seen her meet up with Eric. Very briefly. They always walked away a little and Eric came back alone a moment later."
He follows her movements attentively when she walks back to sit on bed and pulls one leg up under her.
"She was brought in just a little while ago."
"Are you telling the truth?"
"I’m too afraid not to. She collapsed at the airport, but got better in the ambulance, and they chose to take her directly up here for monitoring. It so happened that she was put in the room next to mine."
Evy points at the wall behind her.
"I saw them wheel her past my door and recognized her. I slipped in to check up on her. I had seen her before so I wanted to know what happened."
Evy picks at the covers in her bed as if she’s removing something invisible.
"But it didn’t last for very long. I was able to get through to her and our eyes met..."
Evy wets her lips and starts picking at the covers more intensely.
"I could hardly hear her voice. The only words I could make out were Eric, limo, driver and baby."
She rubs her upper arms as if she’s freezing. Fredericsson is freezing too.
"I’ve never seen someone die. I always thought that they just closed their eyes and slipped away. But they don’t."
She leans over toward Fredericsson.
"Her whole body was shaking. Her eyes looked into mine as if she could see directly into my soul."
Evy leans back a little and looks at the wall behind him.
"It didn’t take long. I was still screaming when the nurses arrived. Then everybody came running into the room and someone grabbed me and took me out into the hall where she left me."
She takes a deep breath.
"I think she’s still in there. I don’t think they’ve taken her away yet."
Fredericsson hears steps from the corridor and turns around quickly. He looks at Evy and then gets up slowly and walks over to the door. He looks at her one last time before he walks into the corridor dragging his coat behind him.
"Hey, wait!"
Fredericsson runs down the corridor.
"It’s her all right."
Fredericsson nods.
"Carry on."
"What do you think you’re doing?!"
Fredericsson holds up his badge and turns around and walks down the corridor shaking his head. When he passes Evy’s door, he sees that she’s sitting in the same chair that he’s just been sitting in. She’s looking out the window, deep in thoughts. Fredericsson stops and looks at her for a while before he leaves the hospital.
Fredericsson slowly drives away. He scratches his nose and blinks hard and feels no need to speed up. He looks at the notepad and the phone on the seat next to him.
”I’m lucky no one stole it.”
The fatigue he feels is overwhelming and, as he stops at a red light, he’s afraid that he’ll forget some important detail now that practically nothing is written down. He speeds up when the light changes and can’t help thinking about how long the reports are going to end up being. He feels annoyed and even more tired when he hears the horn of the car behind him. It’s close behind him but doesn’t overtake him.
"Right, some guy with road rage. Just what I need."
He reaches out for his phone but can’t reach it. When he looks up he sees the car behind him speeding up. He sees how it pulls over and tries again to reach his phone. The steering wheel jerks violently. Then there’s the sound of metal against metal. His car is wobbling and suddenly Fredericsson isn’t tired anymore. The adrenaline is shooting through his body. Another hard jerk and the metal between the two cars bends. He looks at the other driver who just smiles and waves at him. Then he steers away from Fredericsson only to hit him again even harder. This time Fredericsson can feel how the wheel is slipping through his hands and the car starts to change course. In his struggle to regain control, he doesn’t see that the other car speeds up and drives away and quickly disappears in traffic. Fredericsson looks up and sees the concrete pillar in front of him. It seems to fill out his entire view through the windshield. He is gasping for air and prepares for the pain he knows will hit him in a few seconds. At that moment his instincts take over. He feels the resistance under his right foot when the brakes can’t be pressed down any further and his police training helps him get control over the wheel. The sounds of traffic and cars honking seems like a soundtrack. He stares at the concrete, at the marks on it where the rain has run down and he can see the rust that has settled in the concrete. Under the bridge he catches a glimpse of a homeless person standing by his cart. Then he feels the car skid.
”What do you think you’re doing?”
He sees two blue eyes staring into his and the moment after he hears the sound of the cart being thrown against the concrete pillar. A violent jerk and his phone hits him in the face when his car rolls over. Then it’s quiet.
“Are you crazy?! All my stuff!”
It’s quiet again and then he hears steps slowly approaching.
“Are you OK?”
The blue eyes stare at Fredericsson again and he slowly manages to focus.
“Are you OK?”
Fredericsson swallows and his brain registers the metallic taste of blood.
“Hmm.”
“Are you OK?”
Fredericsson sniffs and looks up in the rearview mirror. Blood is streaming down his face from a broken nose and a big red mark on his cheek bone tells him that he’ll have a black eye tomorrow.
“Are you OK?”
Fredericsson looks at the man’s dirty face but can’t seem to find any words. He looks away.
“Where’s my phone?”
“Are you OK?”
“If you keep asking me that, then…”
He shakes his head
“I’m too tired. I need to get off this case.”
He looks at the dirty face.
“This was no accident.”
The man stares at him without saying anything. Fredericsson examines his face.
“How old are you? In your mid-thirties?”
The man looks surprised and pulls away.
“Who are you? The cops?”
“Hmm.”
The man takes another step back.
“Did you see what happened?”
The man stares at him
“Maybe.”
Fredericsson tries to smile, but the pain from his nose makes him stop.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Fredericsson nods.
“Pick up your stuff. Then I’ll call someone who can pick us up.”
“On that phone?”
The man’s dirty finger points at the phone that’s lying 15 feet away in a thousand pieces. Fredericsson sighs and collapses in his seat as he opens the seat belt. He turns to look at the man who has started picking up his things one by one.
“How much?”
He stops and they look at each other. Then he shakes his head and throws the green sleeping bag into the cart. They keep looking at each other for a long time before he finally gives the cart a push and starts moving up the slope. When he reaches the top he point back the way Fredericsson came from. Fredericsson feels how a slow fear creeps up on him and he looks in the rear view mirror.
“A police car.”
Fredericsson’s voice is no more than a sigh and his body collapses while he follows the car closely in the mirror.