Cinderella Girl (26 page)

Elise was perched on the bunk with a pillow behind her back looking at a magazine when they stepped into the girls’ room.

‘Is it always like this?’ asked Sjöberg, with a gesture towards the rest of the apartment.

Elise shrugged and tried to look indifferent.

‘How are you doing?’

‘Fine,’ she answered without conviction.

Hamad took over and went straight to the point.

‘I’m not satisfied with your answers to the questions I asked you on the phone,’ he said in a somewhat harsher tone than really felt right.

Elise looked back at him with an unsympathetic expression.

‘I think you have more to tell us about that wallet.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ said Elise, turning her eyes away.

‘When did you find it?’ asked Sjöberg.

‘I don’t know. I think it was on Sunday.’

‘Where did you find it?’

‘On the street, I told you! I don’t know the name of the street.’

A reaction anyway. It was clear that she did not want to talk about this and that energized Sjöberg.

‘You’re lying, Elise. And you know that we know you’re
lying. Now you’re going to tell us exactly where and when you found this wallet.’

Elise started browsing through her magazine. Sjöberg grabbed it with both hands and threw it on the floor. Elise winced. She had not expected that.

‘We’re trying to find the person who murdered your sister,’ said Sjöberg with unruffled calm. ‘All we’re asking of you is that you answer a few questions. We want to know the truth. We need to know the truth in order to separate what’s important and what’s not. You’re lying to us and that’s not acceptable. You stole that wallet, didn’t you?’

‘No, I found it,’ said Elise, but the self-assurance was no longer there.

‘Then we’ll see what Sören Andersson has to say about it. When we tell him that the girl who stole his wallet is fourteen, her name is Elise Johansson and she lives on Götgatan.’

‘But that has nothing to do with it!’ Elise cried out, clearly upset now.

‘Doesn’t have to do with what?’

‘With Jennifer!’

‘We’ll decide that, not you,’ said Sjöberg. ‘When did you steal the wallet?’

‘I didn’t steal it! But it may have been on Friday that I found it,’ she admitted.

‘Why did you say Sunday if it was Friday?’

‘I don’t really remember, but it was probably last Friday.’

‘Where did you find it?’ Sjöberg went on.

‘It was somewhere close to Vitabergsparken, but I don’t know the name of the street. It’s true!’

Elise watched with dismay as the two policemen exchanged glances, but she did not understand at all what those looks might mean. She felt only a growing sense of discomfort. She was prepared to do anything, almost anything at all, to get away from there, to escape those scrutinizing stares and questions about what she never wanted to think about again – something that had nothing at all to do with the murder of Jennifer. In her desperation she lashed out against the policemen, the way she might against her mother or her teachers.

‘Why don’t you do your job, you fucking pigs? Catch Jennifer’s murderer and don’t be after me all the time! I didn’t murder Jennifer; I haven’t done anything! And that disgusting dirty old man he has for a father, her damn boyfriend; he asked why I wasn’t dead! Do you get how that feels, you fucking idiots! Do you get how it feels when people say you ought to be dead! I suppose you want me to die too? It would have been a lot better if
I’d
died instead, huh? Then everyone would have been happy. Damn, I wish I were dead, so I could escape you and all of your stupid questions and all this bullshit!’

* * *

Hamad and Sjöberg stood as if petrified, witnessing the fourteen-year-old Elise Johansson’s adolescent outburst, but Sjöberg had to admit later that it was actually quite a relief. Elise had finally reacted like a normal teenager and that felt liberating in some way. It was a huge contrast to
the fearful, cowering, self-denying behaviour that had marked her during their encounters so far.

‘What was that you said?’ asked Sjöberg, when the sound of her voice had ebbed away. ‘Did Joakim’s father ask you why you aren’t dead?’

‘Yes, he did,’ answered Elise, still angry, but considerably more composed now.

She avoided his eyes and sat fingering both of her rings.

‘You need to explain that.’

‘ “Aren’t you dead, you little whore?” he said to me. Was that a nice thing to say?’

‘In what context? When did you see him?’

‘Before,’ Elise said simply.

‘This afternoon?’

‘Yes.’

Thoughts were whirling in Sjöberg’s head. He glanced at Hamad, but he looked equally perplexed. Neither of them could immediately verbalize just what was so strange, but it was clear to both of them that something was really wrong here.

‘Where did this happen?’

‘At Joakim’s,’ said Elise.

‘I thought you didn’t know each other,’ Sjöberg pointed out.

‘We don’t, but I went there anyway. I just wanted to talk to him.’

‘And then …?’

‘And then his dad came home from work or something. We were standing out in the stairwell. And then he caught sight of me and looked completely crazy. “Aren’t you
dead, you little whore?” Yes, that’s what he said, “Aren’t you dead, you little whore?” ’

Sjöberg looked at Hamad, who was shaking his head in disbelief.

‘That must have been unpleasant, Elise. What did you do then?’

‘I just ran away from there. As fast as I could.’

‘And Joakim?’

‘Well, what could he do? He stayed there.’

‘What in the world was that about?’ asked Hamad when they had left Elise and were on their way back down to the police building.

‘That was a strange story,’ Sjöberg agreed.

‘But is it true?’

‘I actually think she was telling the truth this time. Her account was spontaneous, you might say,’ said Sjöberg with a meaningful smile.

‘Oh boy. Just wait till your kids reach that age.’

‘God forbid.’

‘But why did he say that? “Aren’t you dead?” What does that mean?’

‘It may mean that he recognizes Elise and thought she was the one who was dead. Then we have to ask ourselves: Why does he recognize Elise? It may mean he recognizes Jennifer, knows that she’s dead, sees Elise, and thinks she’s Jennifer. Where does he recognize Jennifer from? Do you think Joakim introduced them? Not very likely. However we look at this, we end up with two facts. One: He has seen one of the girls, or both of them, before.
Two: He thinks Jennifer and Elise look a lot alike. So alike that he can’t really tell them apart.’

‘That’s a new idea,’ said Hamad.

‘He may have seen Joakim with Jennifer at some point. At a distance perhaps. And then he runs into Elise there in the stairwell. Elise reminds him of the only girl Joakim has ever gone out with – Jennifer – and so he spits that out. Contemptuously, because he didn’t approve of their relationship. We know that, because that was why he assaulted Joakim that Friday evening.’

‘Joakim’s dad seems to be a truly unpleasant person,’ Hamad observed.

Sjöberg could not help but agree and they walked side by side for a while lost in their own thoughts. When they reached the turning area outside the police building Hamad said, ‘I have another idea.’

He stopped and Sjöberg did the same.

‘What if Joakim’s dad was also on the boat?’

‘Wouldn’t we have known that?’ asked Sjöberg.

‘How would we? We’re staring our eyes blind at their names, whom they share a cabin with and so on, but I for one haven’t investigated whether there was another passenger on board with the same address as Joakim.’

‘Joakim would have said something.’

‘Maybe he didn’t know it himself.’

‘They would have run into each other,’ said Sjöberg. ‘His reason for being on board must have been to take Joakim to task because he went even though he was forbidden to do so.’

‘His reason may just as well have been to kill Jennifer.’

‘In that case, why?’

‘Because he’s a sick bastard who doesn’t tolerate being contradicted.’

‘Well, he’s no doubt sick,’ Sjöberg observed. ‘He abuses his twenty-four-year-old son, and holds him in a kind of prison as his extremely obese mother’s caregiver. They also sleep together …’

‘Who sleeps together?’ Hamad wanted to know.

‘Father and son.’

‘Sleep together? In the same bed, or what?’

‘In the same bed. A single bed besides.’

‘You’re joking. Why haven’t you said anything about this?’

‘I am now. We’ve had other, more important things to talk about, haven’t we?’

‘This is important! Suddenly Joakim’s father is a person of interest in the investigation!’

‘Jamal, I’m telling you this now because he’s attracted our attention. There’s no reason to start speculating about sensitive issues like incest on such flimsy grounds.’

‘You’re the one who said it, Conny. You said incest, so you were thinking incest.’

‘The kid is twenty-four, Jamal. What can I do? Start an incest investigation on a twenty-four-year-old man? Joakim could report the matter himself if he wanted to. In theory he is perfectly capable of moving away from home and breaking contact with his family.’

‘In theory, yes. But not in practice. He’s chained to his sick mother.’

‘And to his sick father,’ Sjöberg agreed. ‘Yes, I know. And we’re stuck with our procedures. For that reason we’ll let this rest for the time being. Until we need it.’

‘You realize that Joakim may have been abused by his father the whole time he was growing up?’

‘I realize that, yes,’ Sjöberg sighed.

‘In that case it would mean that the old bastard is not only incestuous but a paedophile,’ Hamad pointed out.

‘Now let’s just take it easy. We can at least find out whether he was on board the boat before we start running away with this.’

‘You’ve already completed the thought.’

‘At the same time as you, I would think,’ Conny Sjöberg concluded the discussion.

Their suspicions proved correct. Neither of them was surprised when a short time later in Sjöberg’s office they determined that Göran Andersson, Joakim’s father, had been among the passengers on board the Finland ferry that fateful night. Hamad filled a briefcase with papers and other things he thought he might need that evening. Neither of them could predict how the next few hours would turn out, so it was as well to be prepared. He felt they could do without running back and forth between the police building and the homes of those involved. Eriksson was briefed on the latest thinking and Lotten was ordered to cancel Sjöberg’s and Hamad’s remaining interviews for the day. They also asked her to send photographs of Göran Andersson and Sören Andersson to Nieminen. Then they took off for Joakim’s apartment on Ölandsgatan.

No one opened the door, even though Hamad rang the doorbell several times. Not until Sjöberg called out to Joakim through the letter box were they let in. Joakim looked devastated, his eyes terrified.

‘Why don’t you open when the doorbell rings?’ Sjöberg said harshly, clomping straight into the living room without taking off his shoes.

Hamad followed and Joakim slunk behind them like a shadow, without saying anything. A middle-aged man was sitting in an armchair with a cigarette in one hand and a rolled-up newspaper in the other. He looked at them with an indifferent air and struck the newspaper against his knees a few times before Sjöberg began to speak.

‘Are you Göran Andersson, Joakim’s father?’

‘Yes. What’s he done now?’ he retorted, with an almost amused expression.

‘Nothing, as far as we know. On the other hand we would like to have a few words with you.’

He took a few quick puffs on his cigarette before he answered, ‘You don’t say.’

Sjöberg turned on the record function on the MP3 player and set it on the coffee table without asking for permission. Göran Andersson followed his movements with his eyes, but said nothing.

‘We have information that you were on board the boat where Jennifer Johansson, Joakim’s girlfriend, was murdered. What do you have to say about that?’

Sjöberg made an effort to be strictly factual, without revealing what he was thinking.

‘That might be true.’

‘For what reason did you make that trip?’

‘I guess a little getaway to Finland is never a bad thing.’

‘You have a sick wife to take care of in there,’ Sjöberg pointed out, gesturing towards the bedroom. ‘It seems a bit irresponsible to leave her without supervision for
more than twenty-four hours. What do you have to say about that?’

Göran Andersson’s eyes flicked suspiciously from Sjöberg to his son.

‘Has Joakim –’ he said, before Sjöberg interrupted him.

‘Joakim has nothing to do with it. I’ve been here myself and seen her. How can you take off on a Finland cruise with Joakim and leave a family member who is in need of constant care at home alone for such a long time?’

‘We didn’t travel together,’ Joakim interjected.

‘No one asked you to open your mouth!’ his father shouted.

‘I’m the one leading the conversation here,’ said Sjöberg without raising his voice, giving the man in the armchair an ice-cold look. ‘So you didn’t travel together? Then I’m extremely curious about what business you had on that boat.’

‘I wanted to check up on what Joakim was up to. He didn’t have permission to go.’

‘No permission?’ Hamad interjected. ‘As far as I know, you don’t need your father’s permission for anything when you’re twenty-four years old.’

‘As you’ve seen, his mother needs care.’

‘And?’ Sjöberg said with feigned surprise. ‘Is that Joakim’s job? Taking care of your wife?’

‘Taking care of his mother is another way to look at it. Yes, that’s the arrangement we have. The kid gets paid for it.’

‘So, if Joakim happens to be away, you take the opportunity to go away at the same time? So that it’s completely certain she gets no care? Mrs Andersson should have had professional help long ago. We’re going to report this to social services.’

For the first time Göran Andersson looked bothered.
He did not answer, but instead took a deep drag on the cigarette before he put it out in the ashtray on the table.