Trapped, page 37
Milda was looking at her searchingly and Julia realized that for a brief moment she had lost control of her facial expression. When she sat down in her desk chair that moment had passed. Her gaze once again sharp, her expression focused.
‘What have you got for us?’ she said, contemplating Milda with curiosity.
For Julia, the goal was always first and foremost to ensure that someone stayed alive. Even in murder cases she considered that to be her primary task: find the perpetrator and ensure that no one else would die. For Milda, however, it was all about communing with the deceased. She spent more of her time with the dead than with the living. Julia doubted whether she would be capable of such a thing, but Milda had made it her life’s work. At the same time, she had enormous respect for Milda. The job needed doing. The dead could talk. She had seen that time after time in the cases she had worked on. The medical examiner was an important piece of the puzzle in every investigation.
‘It’s about the murder of Robert Berger. And by extension the murders of Tuva Bengtsson and Agnes Ceci. But Robert is the key to unlocking a vital piece of the jigsaw, I think. I hope.’
Milda fidgeted awkwardly in her chair.
‘You have my full attention,’ Julia said, leaning forward.
In doing so, she accidentally nudged the wedding photo, but quickly managed to put it back in its place.
Milda cleared her throat.
‘I understand Robert had a tendency to put things in his mouth,’ she said. ‘Apparently he was forever eating things that weren’t intended for consumption. And when I opened him up, I found a large quantity of hair in his stomach.’
‘Unpleasant,’ Julia said with a grimace.
She imagined the taste of hair in her mouth and could feel her stomach turning.
‘Yes, but it could turn out to be fortunate from our point of view. It’s not for me to draw conclusions, I just report what I find, but it’s possible that the murderer has some kind of connection to a … mink farm.’
Julia stared at her.
‘Mink farm? Do they even exist any longer?’
‘Yes – I didn’t think they did either. But there are actually a number of mink farms left in Sweden, even though animal rights organizations are fighting for their closure.’
Julia was quiet.
‘I’m basing this on two things,’ said Milda, sitting up straighter on her chair before continuing eagerly. ‘Firstly, we found traces of ketamine in all the victims – as you know. Secondly, it was mink hair that Robert had in his stomach. It could obviously have come from wild animals, but I don’t think it did. You see, one of the uses for ketamine is to anaesthetize minks. I would almost go as far as betting that Robert was murdered on a mink farm. And in that case, presumably so were the others.’
Julia leaned back to digest what Milda had said. The different parts of her brain were spinning, searching for connections, pathways, truths. But so far it was all too big – an incoherent mess. The thought about the mink farm still had no natural place to settle into.
‘I’ll take this up with the team,’ she said, standing up.
This couldn’t wait. Milda got up too. Then she seemed to hesitate.
‘Are you managing with the injections by yourself?’ she asked carefully.
‘Sorry?’ said Julia, stopping mid-movement.
‘I heard you were undergoing … a process. Are you able to manage the injections yourself, or would you like some help? I could help you.’
A lump formed in Julia’s throat. She hated knowing that people knew and were talking. But there were no secrets at police headquarters; she ought to know that by this stage. She slowly reached for the syringe behind the photo frame. She handed it to Milda and pulled her shirt out of her trousers. Relief washed over her.
It didn’t even hurt when Milda gave her the injection.
87
Vincent was sitting in front of the TV, remote control in hand. He knew he was already a dinosaur at the age of forty-seven. No one watched regular television these days. But he liked that the programmes were only shown at a certain time. If you didn’t see it when it was broadcast, then you missed it.
Of course, most things were available to stream so it was impossible to miss anything. But therein lay the problem. He was fully aware that he was a victim of the psychological principle of availability – anything that was unavailable became more exciting and more attractive. But the modern world had shown him that the principle also worked in the opposite direction. When everything was available, nothing was interesting. And Vincent didn’t have time to be dealing with things that weren’t interesting.
He noticed that it was unusually quiet in the house. Benjamin’s voice was faintly audible through the door, which meant that he was online. The fact that Benjamin actually had friends, albeit invisible ones, was still surprising. Aston was asleep – for once satisfied. Rebecka was out somewhere, and Maria … He didn’t actually know what Maria was doing. He guessed she was lying in bed reading a book filled with insights about how to live a meaningful life. Maria loved books like that. She absolutely devoured them. Some people read cookbooks without cooking a single recipe. Others read fitness books without ever budging an inch. In Maria’s case it was self-help books. She never applied any of the advice, preferring to move on to a new book. And then blame the book when life remained the same.
OK, perhaps that was a bit mean. But he found the library on his wife’s nightstand a bit much, with every title promising to reveal the secret of or the code for something. He snorted. The people who wrote those books didn’t know anything about codes or about real life.
A sound disturbed his thoughts. Something outside the living room window. He looked up and caught a glimpse of someone outside the window. Or had he? The figure had vanished almost immediately, so he couldn’t be sure. It was a light evening but the trees at the corner of the house cast a shadow onto the grass outside the window. The solar-powered lights he had put up along the gravel path to the door were insufficient to light the whole front garden. He turned off the TV, went over to the window and looked out.
Nothing.
One of the bushes at the edge of the grass was moving, as if someone or something had passed by on their way into the woods. Probably a deer. He’d learned since moving out to the country that wild animals were unafraid of humans. He wondered how long it had been standing there, observing him through the window. The deer had most likely been wondering what he was doing there in the middle of her forest.
He noted two spots of grease at eye level on the window and tried to rub them off with his sleeve, but the spots were on the outside. They were the shape of two half-moons. He formed his hands into binoculars and put them against the marks. His hands fitted into the shapes perfectly. As if he were going to look out through them. Or in, he realized. Someone had stood in the same position on the other side. Someone had been standing there and looking at him through the window. And it definitely hadn’t been a deer.
There was a knock on the door and the sudden loud noise almost made him let out a yell. Another knock. He went over and opened it cautiously, unsure what to expect.
Mina was standing outside.
‘Oh, hello,’ he said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. ‘So you’re the one who’s been spying on me?’
‘Spying?’ she said. ‘No, I didn’t want to ring the doorbell in case Aston was asleep.’
‘No, I mean there was someone here …’
He began pointing towards the woods but then stopped himself when he saw Mina’s expression.
‘Has something happened?’ he said.
He came out onto the step and shut the door behind him.
‘No, I just thought …’ began Mina, and then her voice faded away, as if she hadn’t worked out what to say next. ‘I thought we could do something.’
He didn’t know what to say. He looked at the woman in front of him. Mina might be peculiar, but at least she wasn’t putting on an act, as she did for most other people. And he appreciated that. It must have taken a massive dose of courage to come to his house. To risk a no. Especially given what she’d told him in the taxi. How could he ever have believed that she could have sent the book, given who she was and what she was struggling with? He wanted to kick himself. How insensitive could a person be? A sound made him quickly glance through the crack in the door behind him. If Maria spotted Mina, all hell would break loose.
‘I thought I could say hi to your family,’ said Mina. ‘Now that we’re working together so much.’
‘That’s not a good idea,’ he said. ‘Not this evening.’
Mina took a step backwards, away from him. He could no longer see her face clearly, but the slumped shoulders told him everything he needed to know. He had badly hurt her. She had just received the no she had been afraid of.
‘What I meant was, it’s a good idea for us to do something,’ he hurried to add. ‘A great idea. But this isn’t the moment to meet my family. Maria is a bit off balance today and even on a normal day she gets very jealous. If she saw you here like this when she isn’t at ease with herself—’
‘What do you mean, “like this”?’ said Mina. ‘Is there something wrong?’
Vincent looked at Mina. No, there was definitely nothing wrong. Her black hair in its taut ponytail together with her white polo neck accentuated both her features and her personality. The sum total was more than the parts in a way that took his breath away. He hoped that wasn’t too obvious and he did everything he could to avoid looking at her red mouth when she spoke. What was more, he was clearly in greater need of company than he realized, given that he had just hallucinated someone spying on him. It had obviously been a deer.
‘Do you think Maria has any reason to be jealous?’ Mina continued.
There was a movement at the corner of her mouth, the hint of a smile. But he wasn’t certain. It could be a shadow.
‘Jealous of you?’ he said, realizing that he was blushing. ‘Well, she—’
‘Obviously not of me,’ she interrupted. ‘We’ve never met. I meant whether she had any reason to be jealous in general. Do you usually have affairs with other women?’
And there she was – the Mina that had awakened his curiosity right on the first evening in Gävle. The almost clumsy honesty without the social fingertip sensitivity that society expected but which could be so challenging. Especially if, like him, you didn’t have the social finesse that helped to oil the wheels naturally programmed into you. Mina made him feel – possibly for the first time – as if he was himself. Without needing to play a role because that was what others wanted from him. He looked at her hands. They didn’t look dry. She must have moisturized them. A faint scent of vanilla reached his nostrils.
‘No affairs,’ he said. ‘Well, I had an affair once while I was married. But it was with her. With Maria. And then I got divorced and married her instead.’
Mina nodded slowly, as if she understood.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, closing the door behind him. ‘Maria is the best mother in the world – you should see her and Aston. But generally, communication in this home can be rather … challenging. I’ll message her and let her know you called me in. It’s more or less true.’
‘Although you have to promise we won’t talk about work – I’ve thought about nothing else for months,’ she said, linking her arm through his. ‘Normal people are on holiday right now. Tonight let’s take a break.’
The arm was stiff and the link was uncomfortable. Clearly this was an unusual gesture for her. But he appreciated the effort.
‘Deal. Let’s stick to innocent small talk, like my supposed infidelities and my jealous wife.’
They walked down the gravel path across the lawn in front of the house and emerged onto the winding road. It was a light evening and the heat of summer lingered in the air.
He stopped by the letterbox. Something was missing. Ahead of one of his previous shows, Umberto had had small magnetic metal signs made up with the words ‘Mind-reading prohibited’ as part of an advertising campaign. Vincent had attached one of them to the letterbox when he had moved there. But now the sign was gone. It was probably lying in the grass below somewhere. He had difficulty believing that someone might have taken it – he was the only one who still found the sign funny. But the letterbox seemed dull without it.
‘It’s very quiet here in Tyresö,’ said Mina. ‘It’s like being in the countryside. I had to use my satnav to avoid getting lost. It feels like civilization ended miles back.’
Vincent laughed.
‘There’s no point concealing it, you are in the countryside. But I’m happy. We’re happy, I mean. When I’m on tour I meet so many people. Afterwards, it feels great to come back here, where it’s two hundred metres to the next neighbour. Well, you’ve met him – Ove with his digger. Aston has also got plenty of outdoor space to mess around in, and the bus to the kids’ school stops just up the road. But enough of that – what about you? Are you happy in your flat in Årsta?’
He realized how little he knew about Mina, despite having worked together for months. And how much he wanted to know. What was that thought about the psychological principle of availability? ‘Anything that is unavailable becomes more exciting and more attractive.’ Enough already! He wasn’t like that. Of course, Mina was an incredibly fascinating person and also very attractive. He was glad she had entered his life. But they had an adult, professional working relationship. Which was perhaps on the way to becoming a friendship. And that was more than enough.
Maria was obviously jealous anyway. It was inescapable. But then again, she was jealous even when he spoke to Liv on the checkout at the supermarket. Fifty-five-year-old Liv, married to Corinne, who worked on the dairy counter. It made no difference. He wished that Maria had some self-awareness. That at least one of those books could help her. Given that he had obviously failed so completely.
‘Yes, I’m very happy,’ said Mina, and it took him a second to remember what he had asked.
‘I’ve actually got a work-related question,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But I promise it’s the only one. You know when we met in Gävle, you said someone had advised you to contact me. Who was it?’
Mina stopped mid-step and turned towards him.
‘Why do you want to know that?’ she said.
‘I promise I’ll explain why I’m asking. But not now. It may be important though.’
She continued to look at him for a long time. She seemed to be weighing up what to say.
‘I … went with a friend to Alcoholics Anonymous,’ she said. ‘As a support.’
It wasn’t what he had been expecting. But any information he could gather was important. He merely nodded in reply.
‘I met her there. She’s called Anna. She was the one who tipped me off about you. All I know about her – except that she knows about you – is that she has a dolphin tattoo on her calf. And a wolf on her arm, and a few other tattoos. If you want to get hold of her, you’ll have to loiter outside the venue on Kungsholmen like a stalker. I can give you the address.’
She maintained eye contact for a few more seconds, as if waiting to hear what he was going to say.
‘Anna,’ he said, smiling. ‘Dolphin. Kungsholmen. Thanks. No more work now. I give you my word of honour.’
She raised an index finger in the air and stuck the other hand into her pocket. She brought out her phone. He hadn’t even heard it start vibrating.
‘It’s Julia,’ she said, showing him the display. ‘I might as well take this – it feels like work is going to haunt us otherwise. Hi, Julia!’
Mina quickly fell silent and seemed to be listening attentively.
‘Mink farms? For real?’ Mina said after a while. ‘OK, thanks for the info.’
Mina ended the call and put the phone back in her pocket, but he saw that she first switched off the vibration and then put it on silent.
‘Shouldn’t we work anyway?’ he said, once Mina had hung up. ‘That sounded important.’
Mina shook her head.
‘I’m as frustrated and worried as you are about when the next murder will be,’ she said. ‘But we won’t catch a murderer tonight. Milda, the medical examiner, found a connection between the murders and mink farms. And I saw your email on the way over about the murders probably being the work of two people rather than a single killer.’
‘Yes. It doesn’t change the individual psychological aspects,’ Vincent said. ‘But it makes them more understandable. But if there are two people then they have an unpleasantly well-developed ability to rationally plan aggressive acts over a long period of time. Perhaps a very long time.’
Mina nodded.
‘But that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding them,’ she said. ‘At least not tonight at any rate.’
He nodded and she checked her wristwatch. He appreciated the fact that she had one. It was far too common simply to use a mobile phone as a timepiece these days. It was partly that wristwatches were more elegant, and partly that he struggled with the lack of self-control that was displayed when people automatically ended up stuck on social media each time they needed to check the time.
‘It’s too late to send anyone out to check on mink farms this evening,’ she said. ‘There won’t be anyone there. We’ll do that tomorrow morning. Ruben can go. Tonight you and I can try and think about something else for once.’
‘Julia’s slept with Ruben, right?’ he said.
‘Shush, no one knows anything about that,’ she said. ‘Apart from everyone at police headquarters who was on the Christmas cruise, obviously. But that was like five years ago. Longer. Why do you ask?’
‘Ruben intrigues me. That aura of being more God’s gift to women than Björn Ranelid. There’s something underneath it.’
Mina grimaced.
‘You’ll have to let that one go,’ she said. ‘Where are we heading, by the way?’
