Authors: Helene Tursten
Irene nodded and tried to hide a yawn. It had been a long day, and tomorrow hardly promised to be a shorter one.
She’d have to remember to call her hairdresser for another appointment.
Chapter 14
B
ARBRO
L
ÖWANDER WAS
now a medical secretary at Sahlgren Hospital. Irene had called her first thing in the morning. Barbro did not want to speak to a police officer and wanted nothing to do with Löwander Hospital. Irene pressed her case, using a thinly veiled threat of interrogation in the police station, and Barbro gave in. They agreed to meet at 11:00
A.M
. at the main entrance of Sahlgren Hospital.
This worked for Irene. She’d be able to attend Andersson’s morning prayer and catch up on some of her paperwork, not to mention calling her hairdresser for a new appointment.
“
LET’S START WITH
Gunnela Hägg. Was anyone at the autopsy?”
No one in the room had gone.
Andersson rustled two faxes and put on his reading glasses. He cleared his throat. “Gunnela Hägg. Born January nineteenth, 1950. According to the police report, found dead in a culvert underneath a bridge. Near the body a pair of large wire cutters was found, with traces of blood and hair. Massive fractures of the skull. Skull shattered near its base with a great deal of bleeding in the brain. Autopsy shows she died from that blow. The combined picture indicates a homicide. A complete toxicological examination will take place. Samples have been taken for forensic examination.’ ”
The superintendent finished reading and looked up over the top of his glasses, the cheap square kind that can be bought at any drugstore or gas station. He slowly folded them and took up the thread again. “I managed to reach Professor Stridner this morning before you arrived. She tells me that the murderer is right-handed and strong. Her theory is that the killer hit Gunnela Hägg with the side of the wire cutters many times, using much more force than necessary to kill the little old lady.”
The “little old lady” was thirteen years younger than the superintendent. Irene would refrain from commenting on that.
“The murderer felt threatened,” Jonny said.
“He knew that she’d seen him,” added Hannu.
“The newspaper article led to her death,” Tommy said.
Irene put in, “He knew that Gunnela saw him do something incriminating. Perhaps that he rode away on Linda’s bicycle and dumped it in the culvert?”
“Yep. That’s what I think. I also believe that the murderer took off the uniform under the cover of the bridge. Then he walked up onto the road and headed away. Maybe even in a car,” Tommy said.
“That sounds entirely possible.” Irene nodded.
“Can you park a car somewhere near the drive?” asked the superintendent.
“No, not at the actual drive,” Irene conceded. “But it hit me that there was a fantastic parking spot very close to the murder scene. In fact, barely thirty meters away.”
“Where?”
“Behind the grove of fir trees. Visitors’ parking.”
The others pondered and began to nod. Encouraged, Irene continued. “It’s the perfect place for the murderer to park. As he sneaked toward the hospital, Gunnela watched him from the lilac arbor. She knew the ghost story and of course believed that she’d seen a phantom.”
Irene looked around. It seemed to her that they were following her reasoning. “The most important thing is that Gunnela kept standing there. She saw Linda arrive at the hospital. She saw that the killer, dressed as a nurse, later came out, took the bicycle, and rode away. On the tape she says, ‘She took the bike. God punishes theft!’ ”
“How can we know that it wasn’t Linda coming back to get her own bike?”
Andersson started to say something and in his excitement hit his palm on the table. His paper cup of coffee overturned, and the coffee spread over the faxes. To save them he quickly wiped them with his sleeve. Irene sighed and went to get some paper towels from the bathroom. As she returned, she noticed Birgitta in the other end of the hallway. It appeared she didn’t see Irene—she definitely didn’t wave back.
As Irene reentered the room, she heard Andersson’s excited voice.
“Jonny and Fredrik, head back to the apartment building near the hospital. See if anyone noticed a strange car in the visitors’ parking lot around midnight on the night of the murder. If only we can get a make or model, perhaps this devil’s luck will finally run out.”
Andersson’s breathing was audible. Irene felt her usual worry over her boss’s blood pressure. But since he was touchy about that, she kept silent.
The superintendent lifted the second page of the fax and waved it in the air to dry it. He said, “Did anyone attend this autopsy for Linda Svensson?”
Fredrik Stridh lifted his hand and then leaned across to take the damp fax. He went over the paper quickly before beginning to read aloud:
“ ‘Linda Svensson. Born January twenty-third, 1973. According to the police report, found dead in an attic, hanging from a ceiling beam. Found almost on her knees with her upper body hung by a doubled flag line. The rope went under the chin and up over the back of her head. The body appeared discolored on both the left and right sides of the face, and there were external abrasions on the right side of the neck. Lesions visible on the skin of the neck. A thin rope remained embedded in the wound. Underneath it bleeding in the soft tissues and musculature. Broken thyroid cartilage and hyoid bone. Also spotty bleeding in the eyes and the oral mucosa. These findings indicate that death resulted from strangulation. Probable time of death: midnight between the tenth and eleventh of February, as concurrent with the changes apparent within the body. Complete toxicological examination still ongoing. Samples have been taken for forensic examination.’ ”
Fredrik looked up as he threw the report on the table.
“Sick! The murder is sick in and of itself, but to hang her body up like that. Hanging her was some kind of ritual. And a sloppy one.”
“Yes, it is sick, and the murderer, in his sick mind, meant something by it,” Irene said.
“Keep digging, Ghostbusters,” Jonny cackled.
Irene refused to rise to his taunt. He did not realize how right he was. They had to search back in time, into the tangle of legends, ghosts, and lies. Right now everything felt at a standstill, she admitted to herself. But she’d never admit that to Jonny.
“We’ll meet again here at five in the afternoon. Svante Malm will bring some of his lab results,” Andersson concluded.
THE SAHLGREN HOSPITAL’S
buildings were a hodgepodge of styles thrown together by a crazy architect, Irene thought. Every single style of architecture from the previous century was represented. It was neither beautiful nor functional.
Irene walked toward the complex’s main entrance. She could see a woman waiting by the glass doors, sheltering from the wind. She just had to be Sverker Löwander’s ex-wife. Carina and she were remarkably similar, blond and tall, although Barbro was eleven years older according to the files. She wore her hair just like Carina, but there were some streaks of gray in her blond.
Another woman who needs an appointment for a color job
, Irene thought to herself. Barbro Löwander’s skin was sallow. Although Irene was not a big believer in makeup per se, she thought that Barbro Löwander really ought to get some help from the cosmetics industry. A touch of bronzer, a little mascara, and some nice lipstick would make a world of difference on this colorless face. Adding to the miserable appearance was the beige down coat. Was she consciously trying to downplay her looks? All these thoughts swirled through Irene’s brain as she held out her hand to the woman and said with a smile, “Excuse me, are you Barbro Löwander?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Hi, I’m Criminal Inspector Irene Huss. Can we go somewhere we can talk?”
Barbro Löwander nodded in reply and turned toward the automatic glass doors. For a second, Irene imagined that the sensor wouldn’t react to such a colorless woman and the doors wouldn’t open.
Sahlgren Hospital would never win a prize for the most welcoming entry. Even though someone had stuck a bubbling fountain next to the window, the good impression was lost among the floating cigarette butts.
They marched down the wide hall that ran the length of the building. They did not exchange a word as they passed the cafeteria and exited the building again through the glass doors on the other side. Barbro Löwander bent over into the strong wind and hurried toward an older, dark brown brick building. Through the windows they could see a number of white-clad people moving about, protected from the wind and the rain. Irene had a feeling that her interview would not be easy.
Once inside, Barbro headed up some worn stairs, looking neither right nor left and saying not a word to Irene, who followed her glumly. Barbro stopped on the third floor, and Irene could hear the rustling of a key chain. Barbro Löwander unlocked the door and said, without much enthusiasm, “Come in. This room is empty, as its occupant is on vacation.”
The room was spacious and airy, with two large windows overlooking the botanical gardens. Not much to see in February, but it was not hard to imagine how spectacular it would be in spring when all the green plants came to life.
“Does this building have only offices?” Irene asked.
“For the most part,” Barbro replied.
She hung her jacket on a wall hook, and Irene did the same with her leather jacket.
“Were there care wards here before?” Irene continued.
“No, this was a nursing school.”
Irene suddenly understood that no brand of cosmetics in the world could make Barbro into a beautiful woman. The thickest layer of makeup couldn’t hide the fretful bitterness on her face. Irene moved a pile of papers from a chair and sat down, trying to figure out what made Sverker’s ex-wife tick.
Barbro plopped down on a desk chair next to the large computer. She withdrew a pack of cigarettes and impatiently shook one out. Apparently smoking was forbidden in the building, as she did not light it but nervously rolled it between her fingers.
“I really don’t understand why I have to be dragged into all that mess over at Löwander Hospital,” she exclaimed.
To her surprise, Irene saw tears spring up in the other woman’s eyes. Irene asked her next question carefully. “Did you know either of the murdered nurses?”
“No. I haven’t set foot in that place in eleven years. I had nothing to do with any of the employees either. I broke away completely from all of that … then.”
“When you divorced?” Irene clarified.
Barbro nodded in response. Irene looked into her blue-gray eyes and could see the pain. She was surprised. A lot of time had passed since the couple had split up. Perhaps the divorce was still an open wound that was best left undisturbed. She decided to try another approach.
“It’s not the murders or the divorce that I came to ask you about. We need your help.” Irene let her words sink in.
Barbro’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly, but her voice was still suspicious as she asked, “Why would you need my help?”
“Well, you worked at Löwander Hospital for many years. You were married to Sverker for … how many years?”
“We were married for thirteen years. I worked at Löwander for six years. I started half-time after Julia was born.”
Barbro snapped her mouth shut as if she felt she had given away too much. Irene could hardly agree. She tried a new question.
“What kind of people were your in-laws?”
Barbro could not hide the look of surprise that flickered across her face. Finally she shrugged and said, “I can hardly see how they’d have anything to do with the murders. Just as little as I would.” She thought for a moment. “Sverker’s mother died when he was nine years old. My ex-father-in-law, Hilding, died the year before our divorce. He was eighty-nine. A strong man until his last year of life. Then he had a stroke, and … everything went downhill fast. He was furious.”
The hint of an affectionate smile played at the corners of her mouth. Irene was surprised. Apparently Barbro had liked her father-in-law.
“Why was he furious?” Irene asked.
“He was forced to loosen his grip on Löwander Hospital. The hospital was his life. He’d stopped performing surgery years earlier, but he did all the administration work and the day-to-day running of the place.”
“How did Sverker feel about that?”
Barbro gave Irene a cold look of disdain. “He thought it was just fine. He had all the time in the world to run after Carina.”
“So Sverker did not want to run the hospital.”
“No.”
“Did your ex-father-in-law ever remarry?”
“No.”
“Do you know of any stories circulating around him … about other women …?”
Irene left her sentence unfinished on purpose to see if Barbro would swallow the bait. She did, with a bitter grimace.
“I read the article in the paper about Nurse Tekla. Of course I’d heard her story. Everyone who worked at Löwander knew it. I don’t believe it. Ancient gossip and rumors.”
“It looks like Sverker didn’t know anything about any relationship between Hilding and Nurse Tekla.”
“Well, it’s possible. He did know that she’d hanged herself in the attic, and people said she haunted the place. But he never talked about any of it. Perhaps no one dared mention the gossip to his face.”
“So there never was another woman in Hilding’s life as long as you knew him?”
“Never, but he was seventy-two when I met Sverker.”
“I understand that his parents were fairly well along in years when Sverker was born.”
“Yes. Hilding was fifty, and Lovisa must have been … almost forty-five. Oh, I’d never thought of her as that old. She’d been dead many years by the time we got married, and Sverker never talked much about her. But then there were many things he didn’t talk about.”
Barbro was back to the divorce like a tongue probing a loose tooth. Even though it hurts, you can’t stop.
“So he never told you he’d started a relationship with Carina?”
“Of course not! I was the last to know, as usual. I was presented with a fact. Carina was expecting, and so now he wanted a divorce. For the baby’s sake. Not thinking he already had two children. He never gave them a thought while he was busy chasing that cat’s tail, just like she’d planned. He fell into the oldest trap in the book.”