The Beige Man (34 page)

“What car? You mean the BMW?” she said almost indifferently as she put her notepad and pen away in her shoulder bag.

“No, not the BMW! The Opel! The white Opel!”

For a few seconds Irene completely lost focus. Behind her she heard Jonny’s sharp intake of breath.

“You mean the Opel that you and Billy later drove out to Olofstorp?” she managed to say when she had more or less pulled herself together.

After another bout of head twitching, Niklas replied, “Yes.”

“So you and Billy abandoned the stolen BMW and torched it. Then you took the car that was parked by the barrier. How did you get it started?”

“The keys were in the ignition.” Suddenly he looked completely calm. His finger had started bleeding, and there was blood on his lips. He licked them and gazed thoughtfully at his finger.

“The keys were in the ignition,” Irene said, frantically trying to think.

“Did you know the Opel was going to be there?” Jonny asked.

At first it looked like Niklas wasn’t going to answer, but then he shrugged. “How the fuck would we know that? It was just there, okay?”

He moved over to the door to wait patiently for his escort back to the custody cell. Irene was completely at a loss.

Torleif Sandberg’s car had been parked on the side road leading down to the canoe club. Unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. Why had the car been there? And why had he abandoned it and gone running off into the cold winter night?

That was why Niklas and Billy had been able to disappear
so quickly. They had already been far away by the time the helicopters were brought in the following morning.

“How did you manage to get past the roadblocks?” Irene asked Niklas.

“Side roads. There are plenty of them up around Delsjö,” he said.

For the first time Irene saw the hint of a smile on his face. He was probably quite pleased with the way he and Billy had gotten away.

When the door closed behind Niklas and the guards, Irene heard Jonny mutter, “What the hell …”

She couldn’t help but agree with him.

A
NDERSSON LOOKED FAR
from happy by the time Irene had finished reporting back on the interview with Niklas Ström. The only reason he didn’t protest was Jonny was sitting next to her and confirmed everything she had said.

“What the hell was Torleif doing there?” the superintendent asked.

“I have no idea. But it’s very odd. He had serious frostbite injuries, which suggests that he didn’t try to run straight home. And according to Wallström’s witness statement, the Opel was already there when he and his girlfriend arrived at about eight thirty.”

“So you’re saying the idiot must have been rambling around for over an hour before he was run down on Delsjövägen,” Jonny said dubiously.

“Hardly. As I said before, he knew the area like the back of his hand,” Andersson said firmly.

“Could he have seen the killer come along and dump Tanya in the root cellar? And then maybe he tried to follow whoever it was? I mean, Torleif was a good runner. If the killer left on foot, then …”

Irene broke off. The idea that struck her almost knocked her off her chair.

“Oh my God! Excuse me,” she said as she got to her feet.

When she got to the door, she turned around and said, “Svante!”

Then she was gone.

Andersson frowned at Jonny. They both shook their heads and exchanged a look of mutual sympathy.

B
EFORE
I
RENE WENT
home for the day, she called the hospital to see how her mother was. The nurse informed her that Gerd was feeling a little tired, but by and large she was recovering well.

“She had an intertrochanteric fracture, which is the most common hip fracture in older people; it occurs at the neck of the femur. Because the ball joint itself was in a poor condition, we’ve removed it, so Gerd has a new prosthetic hip. One slight problem is that she also has a small crack in her coccyx,” the pleasant professional voice explained.

“And what can be done about that?” Irene asked anxiously.

“Not much, unfortunately. It is causing her pain, and that could go on for quite some time.”

“Can I come up and see her in a little while?”

“Of course.”

S
HE HAD EVIDENTLY
arrived in the middle of the rush hour when it came to visiting, because it was almost impossible to find a parking space. Eventually she spotted one and slammed the Volvo in right in front of a VW Polo. The driver of the smaller car reacted with a series of long, angry blasts on the horn, but Irene pretended not to notice. She bestowed a sweet smile on her furious fellow driver and hurried off to the ticket machine.

Up on the ward there was a lot of activity in the corridor. A
male auxiliary was maneuvering a huge stainless steel container, rattling toward the elevators as he transported the dinner trays back to the central kitchen.

Gerd was no longer alone in her room. The occupant of the bed by the window was snoring loudly. Judging by the shape under the blanket, it was a very well-built woman. There was a frame at the end of the bed to stop the bedclothes from touching her feet.

Gerd was lying there with her eyes closed. A lump came into Irene’s throat as she gazed at her mother; she looked like a pale, fragile china doll. Irene edged toward the bed and bent down to stroke her mother’s white hair. Gerd opened her eyes and smiled.

“You don’t imagine I can sleep with this racket going on, do you?” she said.

Irene was relieved to find that her mother hadn’t lost her sense of humor.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Well, I know I’ve had surgery, but I thought it would be worse. I’m starting physical therapy tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Isn’t that a bit soon?”

“It’s to minimize the risk of blood clots.”

Irene was suddenly aware that she had turned up empty-handed. “I didn’t know if you were allowed flowers on this ward. And I didn’t know if you were eating yet. So tomorrow I’ll—”

“Don’t bother. Bring me a few magazines instead. And one of those things you can play talking books on. Then I can plug in my earphones, and I won’t have to listen to …” She gestured toward her neighbor who had just taken a deep breath culminating in a huge snore, after a period of total silence. It sounded as if she was swallowing her tongue and choking.

“Sleep apnea. It’s dangerous. It can lead to a stroke,” Gerd said knowledgeably. She always read medical articles with
great interest. You have to know more than the doctors if you’re going to cope with being ill, she always said.

All at once she looked sharply at Irene. “Did you get hold of Sture?”

This was the moment Irene had been dreading. She took one of Gerd’s hands in both of her own. It was ice-cold.

“Mom … Sture … He …”

“He’s dead.”

Gerd was looking straight at her as she spoke. Her eyes shone with tears which slowly rolled down her cheeks and onto the pillow.

“Yes. I found him when … when I went over there,” Irene said, her voice breaking.

Gerd nodded, as if Irene had confirmed something that she had already suspected. For a long time Irene sat there holding her mother’s hand.

The tears were still flowing when Gerd suddenly said, “He had a feeling he was going to die. He called me on Saturday to say goodbye. That was why I went out even though I knew it was icy, and I shouldn’t have … I wanted to see him before …” She waved her free hand toward the bedside table, where there was a pile of paper napkins. Irene passed her a handful.

“Why didn’t he call an ambulance?” Irene asked.

Gerd blew her nose on the crackly napkin before she answered. “That’s exactly what I told him to do … he said he would, just as soon as we’d hung up. But he obviously decided not to, or else he didn’t have time.”

“I don’t think he had time. It must have happened very quickly.”

“Where … how did you find him?”

There was no point in lying and saying that he’d been in bed. One of Sture’s neighbors was bound to know what had happened; he or she would mention it to an acquaintance in the grocery store, who in turn would speak to someone who
happened to live near Gerd, and that person would … She was bound to find out one way or another.

“He was lying on the bathroom floor. But he hadn’t hurt himself. It looked like he had just decided to lie down. Peaceful. He looked peaceful,” Irene said.

Gerd squeezed her hand. “Thank you. Thank you,” was all she said.

Irene stayed with her mother for over an hour. By the time she left, Gerd had fallen asleep—or at least she was lying there with her eyes closed, in spite of the deafening snores from the other bed.

T
HE ENTIRE HALLWAY
was strewn with boxes. The twins had obviously decided to start packing; they would be moving in a couple of weeks.

The house would be empty.

That was the disadvantage of having twins; they always hit the various stages of life simultaneously despite the fact that they were so different in terms of character. It was entirely logical for them both to move out at the same time, which doubled the sense of loss. On the other hand, it meant that Irene would need to work through empty-nest syndrome only once. But perhaps it never went away completely?

“Mom! I’m taking my bed!” Jenny yelled from upstairs.

Irene hadn’t even taken off her coat. She called back, “Okay!”

“Great! In that case I’ll take the curtains as well. We bought them to match the bedspread,” her daughter replied happily.

Really? Irene couldn’t remember, but perhaps Jenny was right. They had definitely bought the bedspread with stripes in every color of the rainbow at IKEA because she had been there. But as for the curtains …

“I’m taking the bedroom and there’s already a lovely double bed, so mine can stay here,” Katarina said, emerging from the
bathroom with a pile of fluffy white bath towels. Also from IKEA. Brand new. Not even used.

“Those are mine,” Irene said.

“Ours. Me and Jenny need one each.”

“One each. You’ve got four there. At least,” Irene pointed out sourly.

“Yes, but we need spares. Our mom raised us to be good clean girls,” Katarina countered with a smile.

“I said you could take some towels from the linen closet. Not the new ones!” Krister called out from the kitchen.

Katarina sighed and rolled her eyes. “Surely we can have one each.”

Irene’s heart softened. “Okay. One each of the new ones and two of the old ones. Take the red ones. You can put the rest on your birthday wish list.”

“Cool!” Katarina said.

“How’s Grandma?” Jenny shouted down the stairs.

“We’ll find out over dinner, which is ready now!” Krister yelled before Irene had the chance to answer.

She went into the kitchen and smiled at him. There was an appetizing smell of boiled fish—or poached, as her husband would have said. An aromatic symphony of dill, lemon and prawns rose from the largest pan on the stove. The potatoes were bubbling along beside it. Irene suddenly realized how hungry she was and how much she appreciated her lively, loving family.

It wouldn’t just be empty when the twins moved out. It would also be extremely quiet.

T
HE TEMPERATURE REMAINED
above freezing, and the wind blew steadily. Most of the slush had disappeared by the time Irene drove into the city center on Thursday morning. The weather was supposed to stay more or less the same until Saturday, and then it would get colder. Irene hoped that by
then there wouldn’t be much water left on the streets to turn into ice. Healthcare costs for the number of broken arms and legs this winter had already surpassed all records, according to the front page headline in
Göteborgs Posten
that morning. And spring was still a long way off, as the song said. So Gerd was just another statistic. It’s not easy getting old, Irene thought with a sigh.

“I
T’S NOT EASY
getting old,” the superintendent said with a sigh.

“I promise we’ll sort this out,” the assistant at Lindén’s bakery said.

Andersson had been buying bread and cakes there ever since he moved to Partille almost thirty years ago. The woman behind the counter had worked there for almost as long. They had gotten to know one another pretty well, or at least as well as a regular customer and a pleasant shop assistant usually get to know each other. She was the one he chose to confess his secret to, the secret he had carried alone for several weeks. He had noticed the others exchanging glances at coffee time, but he hadn’t said anything. It was none of their business.

“My mother had type two diabetes as well,” he admitted in a burst of total honesty.

“It’s so common these days, and not only among older people; young kids can develop diabetes as well. But I can easily put together a box of assorted treats. I’ll show you which ones are sugar-free, and you choose from those. It’s worked before,” she said with a smile and a conspiratorial wink.

She had a lovely smile, he had always thought so. And she had the ability to spread warmth and a sense of security—yes, that was the word!—around her. If the store wasn’t too busy he would often linger for a little chat, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and delicious cakes as a bonus.

She was cheerful and easygoing, curvaceous and pretty; why had he never taken a chance before? The thought suddenly occurred to him, and he was completely taken by surprise.

“…  so you can pick them up in the morning,” she interrupted his train of thought.

“What? I mean … sorry,” he said in confusion.

She laughed out loud, and he almost thought she might be flirting with him. Maybe she was? He smiled back, and all at once his heart felt warm and lighter.

“I said I’d sort out the box this evening and put it in the refrigerator, then you can pick it up on your way to work in the morning. We open at seven, but you’ll have to knock on the back door. It’s probably best if you pay me now, then it’s all taken care of.”

“Sure! That’s terrific.” He took out a number of one hundred-kronor notes and placed them on the palm of her well-shaped hand.