Trapped, page 13
25
Peder parked and hurried towards them. Vincent saw him shudder when the strong wind hit him right in the face.
‘Hi, Vincent,’ he said, reaching out to shake his hand.
Vincent held on for a moment to gauge the handshake. Surprisingly powerful, given how tired Peder otherwise appeared to be.
‘You look … steamrollered,’ said Mina, and Peder nodded in agreement.
‘Last night they were awake in shifts,’ he said.
Vincent couldn’t help but be wide-eyed. Dear God. His own three kids had been hard work, and that was with a ten-year gap between the eldest and youngest. It was impossible to imagine what three at once must be like. He doubted he’d be on his feet.
‘I’m impressed that you’re even here,’ he said. ‘Sleep is a fascinating topic. For example, did you know that it was only very recently that we found out what it is that makes us fall asleep?’
‘No … no, I didn’t know that.’
Peder began to walk towards the main entrance to Gröna Lund. Mina and Vincent followed.
‘Two research teams have identified what they call the sleep button,’ Vincent continued. ‘They named it Nemuri, after the Japanese word for sleep.’
‘Oh right, I—’
‘They studied twelve thousand fruit flies and examined their sleep patterns, and discovered a gene that controls this sleep button.’
‘Fruit flies, you say …’ Peder mumbled, pointing towards the entrance.
He didn’t seem entirely receptive, which struck Vincent as odd. Peder of all people ought to have sleep at the forefront of his mind right now. No doubt fatigue was making it difficult for him to process information.
‘Vincent,’ said Mina in a low voice behind him. ‘Consider this a Wikipedia warning.’
He nodded and fell silent.
The theme park felt weirdly abandoned now that it was closed for the season. There were no screams from the free-fall tower. No music from the main stage. No creaking from the rides nor the hubbub of thousands of people.
‘The box was here.’
Peder indicated a point in front of the main gate. He’d even brought along the photos taken by the crime scene investigators, which he handed to Vincent, who examined them in silence.
‘Did you find … did forensics find any leads?’ he asked. ‘Anything that might be related to the murder?’
‘Not as yet,’ said Peder, rubbing some grit out of his eye. ‘Obviously they took loads of samples, but it can take a while for the results to come through. In a location like this it’s very difficult to know what might be connected to the box and what was already here when it arrived.’
‘Of course,’ Vincent said pensively, walking around with his eyes fixed on the ground. ‘You know that if you sleep badly for long periods it can have serious side-effects. The risk of various diseases increases, your memory deteriorates and your immune system is weakened.’
‘Yes,’ said Peder with a cough. ‘I …’
‘It also increases the risk of Alzheimer’s, alcoholism and obesity. Without enough sleep, we risk overwhelming the brain – sleep helps us to forget things that are unnecessary.’
‘Yes, I can’t help but notice that I’m not firing on all cylinders right now,’ Peder said. ‘And that seems to apply to more than just me.’
He had added the last bit quietly while throwing a look at Mina, but Vincent heard him. So much for trying to share a little useful information. He always found it a struggle to calibrate what was the ‘right’ level; presumably he’d got it wrong and said one or two things too many.
He crouched and examined the ground where the box had been. A small piece of police tape that had been left behind was fluttering in the wind as if it wanted to blow away. Mina was standing next to him, watching with her arms crossed, her teeth chattering slightly. The cold made her pale, except for her lips, which remained red. He knew that she didn’t wear make-up, but it felt like they were very red. Not that he knew what her lips felt like … He cleared his throat and concentrated on the ground.
‘In the old days, people often sat up to sleep rather than lying down,’ he said, still crouching.
He brushed a gloved hand over the cobbles. When the box was found, there had been snow there. Anything that hadn’t been swept up by forensics in their pursuit of meaningful evidence had probably disappeared along with winter. This was giving him less than he’d hoped for. He would have to rely on his brain subconsciously picking up something that he hadn’t registered.
‘That’s why you often find beds in museums that are so very short. Doctors in the seventeenth century thought it was harmful to sleep lying down – they claimed that food could move from the stomach up the trachea and into the head. Jesus Christ, it’s windy today.’
He stood up and his knees creaked loudly.
‘But what you’re experiencing now is an extreme version of what is known as biphasic sleep. Sleep that’s divided. It used to be common to go to bed at eight, get up at midnight, be awake for two hours, then go back to bed for another few hours’ sleep.’
He looked at Peder meaningfully – the man looked like the human embodiment of a question mark.
‘Too little sleep is driving you crazy and making you fat,’ Mina translated.
‘Oh, right. Thanks for telling me. I’ll be sure to let my wife know,’ Peder laughed.
‘Any idea how long it took for the box to be found?’ said Vincent, looking at the ground again.
‘We think it was placed here in the night and found early the next morning. Passengers from the commuter ferry from Södermalm pass right by here.’
‘That must have been the intention,’ he said. ‘For her to be found quickly. I assume she wasn’t murdered here?’
‘That’s right – we would have found more blood if it had happened here,’ Peder said. ‘The pathologist was certain that the box was moved here after she was dead.’
The choice of location was as spectacular as the box itself. An open spot with passers-by. The murderer wanted it to be visible. And for the body to be found immediately. The question was why.
‘This person doesn’t leave things to chance,’ Vincent said, turning to Mina. ‘Every move is calculated. Yet he takes the risk of transporting the box here. We need to understand why.’
The spring storm felt like it was blowing straight through him. Mina looked as if she was even colder. He would more than happily have offered her his coat, but he knew she wouldn’t accept it unless it was sandblasted and dipped in caustic soda first. Better to get her into the warm instead. They were done here.
‘I’ve seen what there is to see,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Peder.’
It looked as if Peder was suddenly hit by the full force of his exhaustion. He swayed.
‘Have a nap in the car before you go home,’ Vincent said, putting a hand on Peder’s shoulder. ‘You don’t want to risk an accident. Both your cognitive abilities and your reactions can be reduced by up to eighty per cent by fatigue.’
Peder shook his head. ‘I need to get back …’
‘Sleep for an hour. You’ve got kids to get home to. They don’t need to grow up without their father. The statistics for accidents where the driver has fallen asleep at the wheel are—’
Peder held up a hand to ward him off.
‘You’ve convinced me. An hour’s nap it is. Thanks.’
‘No – thank you,’ said Vincent cheerfully.
‘Just don’t tell my wife.’
Peder bent into the wind and made his way unsteadily back towards his car.
26
Mina and Vincent walked towards her car. She unlocked it but at the very moment she heard the shrill beep from the locking system she had an idea and turned to Vincent.
‘Are you in a rush?’ she said. ‘Or have we got time for a coffee?’
She held her breath. Maybe it was a stupid suggestion. But she didn’t want to part yet. She thought she caught a happy glint in Vincent’s eye but it might have been the morning sun reflecting off a shiny surface. The sun made his hair even paler, almost white, and she found herself wondering whether he dyed it or whether it was that light naturally. Regardless of which was true, she liked it.
‘Sure. I expect Hasselbacken is open.’
He nodded towards the beautiful building sitting in state a little further up the hill above the car park. Mina nodded, locked the car with another shrill beep and put the car key in her coat pocket.
‘Don’t you ever carry a handbag?’ said Vincent.
‘Is that strange?’ she said, realizing as she asked that it probably was unusual for a woman.
They began to walk towards the hotel.
‘I find handbags unhygienic,’ she continued, shrugging her shoulders. ‘You gather all sorts of stuff in them, which then stays there for ages and gathers bacteria.’
‘Don’t pockets do that too?’ said Vincent.
Mina shuddered.
‘Shush,’ she said, hurriedly removing her hands from her pockets. ‘Don’t give me any new ideas. I’ve quite enough of them as it is.’
He laughed.
She liked that she could talk so easily about the thing that controlled her life. It felt as if he understood. Of course, she couldn’t talk about it properly – she could only brush past it in a joking tone that implied it wasn’t so bad. As if she was a little eccentric but actually in full control. Nevertheless, she was able to brush closer to it with him than with anyone else.
Vincent had been right. The hotel was open. They sat down in a corner of the lobby and ordered a cup of filter coffee each. Mina noted that Vincent was observing her closely when the cups arrived. And that he noticed the quick, discreet wipe around the rim with the napkin – the one she had perfected down to a tee. It had taken her colleagues at police headquarters far longer to notice it, but with Vincent there was nothing that escaped his attention. She automatically steeled herself for the jibes she usually got at work.
Vincent picked up a napkin and wiped his cup the same way.
‘You never know where these things have been,’ he said in an apologetic tone, blowing on the hot coffee.
She searched his eyes for something indicating that he thought she was mad, but found nothing. Instead he was looking at her with an innocent expression. She took a few sips of her own coffee. It warmed her pleasantly after being out in the wild spring weather. Vincent made her feel like she belonged. Or, if she was an outsider, then he was an outsider with her. It was … an unusual feeling. But a good one, nonetheless.
‘Did you get anything out of this visit?’ she asked.
‘Yes and no. As you say, there’s no evidence left – too many people pass by there each day. But yes, it gave me a feeling of what kind of murderer we’re dealing with. Above all, there were two things that struck me. The audacity of placing the body in such an open location. And the fact that no one noticed anything out of the ordinary, which makes me think the person we’re looking for is someone who blends in.’
‘Mmm,’ Mina said thoughtfully.
‘How familiar are you with the history of Gröna Lund?’ Vincent asked, sipping his coffee.
‘Not at all,’ she said, shaking her head at the waitress who was approaching their table.
‘It’s Sweden’s oldest amusement park,’ said Vincent. ‘Opened in 1883. But in 1924 it faced competition when a travelling fair called Nöjet set up shop right across the street.’
‘I do remember hearing about that. Wasn’t there some sort of love story mixed up in it all?’
‘That’s right. The son of the family that owned Nöjet and the daughter of the family that owned Gröna Lund fell in love. They married and ran Nöjet together, and later on Gröna Lund. Their daughter, Nadia, was the park director at Gröna Lund until 2001.’
‘Romantic,’ said Mina, but she could hear how false she sounded.
She hadn’t meant to sound ironic. Romance wasn’t her thing. It disturbed order. Anyway, it was always messy – sooner or later.
‘What I find most interesting are the human attractions of the 1920s,’ Vincent said, looking out of the window towards the silhouette of the theme park.
‘Human attractions? As in a freak show?’
She frowned. The thought of displaying people for a fee simply because they were different made her angry. What would they have called her? Mina – the bacteria-free woman! See how she washes! Smell the scent of her hand sanitizer!
‘At Gröna Lund, you could see an African tribe,’ said Vincent, turning to face her. ‘And a group of German dwarves in the Lilliput village. And there was a striptease.’
‘Oh, how family friendly!’ she said sharply.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
‘People find the things they aren’t used to strange,’ he said, carefully setting down his coffee cup on the table. ‘People believe their own norms apply to everyone else, and are worried by anything that doesn’t adhere to their rules. Standing out from the crowd can attract admiration but also pointing fingers. Sometimes both at once. People pay to look at me too, you realize. Surely you don’t believe that I’m in anyway considered normal? That I’m the kind of guy you invite to a casual drinks party? We’re unique, Mina, and we pay a price for that. But always remember one thing – the only power others have over your life is what you give them. Let them look if they want. Why not let them pay for the pleasure if they’re willing? And let them talk. It’s nothing to do with you.’
She looked back at the amusement park at the bottom of the hill to avoid meeting his gaze. She blinked several times. He made it sound so easy. But it wasn’t easy. It was hard. She considered telling him about the AA meetings, but they didn’t know each other well enough for that. They were never going to know each other that well.
‘Geniuses like us are always misunderstood,’ Vincent added with a wry smile.
‘I appreciate you being so humble,’ she said, smiling back. ‘By the way, this genius spoke to Milda Hjort earlier today.’
‘Milda who?’ said Vincent, looking confused.
‘The pathologist. The one who performed the autopsy on Agnes Ceci. She was the one who got in touch with me about the marks on the body. Do you remember asking me about substances in the body?’
‘I can tell there’s a “but” coming here,’ said Vincent, leaning in.
‘She missed something,’ she said, also leaning forward. ‘She didn’t run a tox screen on the victim. Didn’t take any samples. Didn’t request any tests. Even though it’s routine.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Vincent.
Mina nodded. Milda’s despair had been palpable. She was going to be investigated. And there might be consequences.
‘The human factor,’ Mina said. ‘She’s … she’s had a tough time.’
Vincent drummed his fingers on the table. The same rhythm over and over. Mina noticed that he had begun to move his foot in time with his drumming. She forced herself to keep still. She waited while he processed this information.
‘So what happens now?’ he said slowly, stopping his drumming.
‘Milda has contacted the prosecutor and I’ve notified Julia. We’ll request an exhumation as soon as possible, and given the circumstances I should think we’ll get a decision immediately. We may even be able to get it today if we’re lucky. Bodies decompose rapidly. The longer the delay before samples are taken, the greater the risk that evidence will be lost. All we can do in the meantime is focus on the practicalities. Excavators. Personnel to do the digging. Clergy. CSIs. The problem is that we may have to wait weeks for everyone to be free.’
Vincent stood up and got out his phone.
‘I think I can help you on two of those points,’ he said. ‘If you speak to the church where she’s buried and deal with the forensics staff, I’ll see what we can do about diggers and equipment.’
‘It doesn’t work like that. Services have to go out to tender. It takes time.’
‘For you, maybe. But I don’t work for the police. Just pretend you don’t know who I’m calling. Aren’t you in the middle of trying to apply for some permit or other?’
The tables in the lobby had filled up with people while they’d been talking, so he headed towards the reception area to make his call undisturbed.
‘I would never have guessed your networks included digger operators,’ she shouted to his back in amusement.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me,’ he called back, half turned away.
It was true. Vincent was still an uncracked nut. A wrapped gift, she managed to think before stopping herself. But he made her happy. It had been a long time since anything or anyone had done that. She rolled her head and then her shoulders and realized that they weren’t tense. She was often so tense during the day that she had a migraine when she went to bed at night – but now, for the first time in ages, her entire body was relaxed. She let out a contented sigh and drank a little more coffee while waiting for Vincent to return.
When the waitress walked by with the coffee pot offering refills she said yes. She carefully wiped the rim of the cup with a new napkin before raising it to her mouth. This time she made no attempt to conceal it. She could hear Vincent’s voice from reception, but was unable to make out the words. She smiled. And persuaded herself that the warmth in her stomach was from the coffee.
27
They hesitated outside the entrance to the police station. Gunnar tenderly took Märta by the arm. He could feel her trembling through her brown woollen coat, which was really far too warm for the time of year. The spring weather meant business. Neither of them had attached any importance to what they had put on. The only thing they could think about was the gnawing anxiety, the feeling that something was wrong.
‘We might as well get it over with,’ he said softly.
Märta was still hesitating, but he gently pulled her through the entrance. He knew how her mind worked. After sixty years of marriage, he knew her innermost thoughts and now he knew that she was fighting the instinct to stick her head in the sand – for as long as they didn’t know anything had happened, nothing had happened. But Gunnar knew better. They had been monitoring their phones, had called around, searched, scoured their memories for friends they didn’t really know, people she might have mentioned in passing. Some name they hadn’t perceived as important at the time, but which they now wished they’d committed to memory. Someone in the organization. No one knew anything. It was as if the earth had swallowed her up. And there were only a few days left until Easter – which they always celebrated together.
