The Torso: A Detective Inspector Huss Investigation, Vol. 2 (32 page)

“Was anyone else living there aside from you?”

“No, but I was only paying for one room.”

“Were you ever inside Emil’s apartment?”

“No. I kept my distance from him. I don’t really know what it was, but I didn’t like him.”

“Yet you recommended his place to others?”

“Of course. It’s impossible to find a cheaper place at such a good location. And you don’t have to hang out with Emil if you don’t want to. He didn’t make any attempts at getting to know me, except for that strange sneaking around.”

“Who else have you recommended Emil to?”

“Hans Pahliss and a guy at work named Sven. Emil asked me to put up a notice in a good place about his room for rent. He gave me some flyers with little strips at the bottom that you can tear off. Emil’s name and address were on the strips. I put one up at work and the other in the union offices. And I put one up at a club. Are you familiar with the Sodom and Gomorrah Club?”

Irene was very well acquainted with Göteborg’s largest gay club. If Pontus had put up the flyer there three years ago, it would be hopeless trying to track down everyone who might have taken a strip.

“Could you please tell me why you’re asking about Emil and Copenhagen?” Pontus requested.

Irene described the connection between Marcus’s murder and Emil Bentsen’s. Pontus was visibly shocked when she spoke of Emil’s murder. There had only been a little article about it in the Swedish papers, with no mention of a name.

Pontus sat quietly for a long time after Irene had finished her account. Finally he said, “It feels horrible that two people I know have been murdered by the same person, and because I recommended Emil to Hans and, in turn, he recommended him to Marcus . . . I know it sounds silly but I feel responsible.”

Irene admitted they shared that feeling. Her guilt after Isabell’s death would not go away.

She leaned back in her chair and looked at Pontus’s beautiful face, which reflected anguish. Up to now he had seemed very sincere. Yet he could be a skillful liar who was concealing the truth. Had he been closer to Marcus than he was willing to admit? With these thoughts in the back of her mind, she asked, “Since you work in the health-care field, do you happen to know if Marcus was in a relationship with a doctor during the summer and fall of last year?”

Pontus shook his head. “As I said, we didn’t know each other that well. I haven’t seen Marcus except for the few times I’ve already told you about.”

“Have you heard any gossip about a doctor who has somewhat odd preferences?”

“Odd?”

For the first time Pontus looked suspicious. Carefully, Irene said, “The kind that Marcus was drawn to. Sadomasochism. Maybe even necrophilia?”

“Necro . . . absolutely not!”

He was very upset. Soothingly, Irene said, “I’m asking because of the way in which Marcus was dismembered. Our medical examiner believes that Marcus’s murderer is a sadistic necrophile. The way in which he was dismembered points to someone who is familiar with autopsy procedures. Marcus is said to have referred to a doctor he knew, who could be dangerous. And Hans Pahliss heard Marcus talk about his ‘personal physician.’ ”

A faint hint of red suffused Pontus’s cheeks. His distress could be heard in his unsteady voice. “Just because you’re gay, people think you’re perverse! I don’t know of any gay person who does the things you’re talking about!”

“You knew Marcus.”

Pontus took some deep breaths in order to calm himself. “I’ve just told you that I barely knew Marcus. I guess there was a reason he wasn’t interested in me and was attracted to Leon instead.”

He took one more deep breath before continuing, “Of course there are guys and girls who like different things, but I don’t know of anyone who is even remotely in the vicinity of necrophilia. I’ve never heard of anyone either. Obviously, I know that there are necrophiles but sadistic necrophilia ... it sounds terrible! I don’t actually think I know what it means, but thinking of the horrific thing that happened to Marcus . . .”

He left the sentence unfinished and shook his head again.

“So you haven’t heard any rumors about a doctor who likes what I just mentioned?”

“No. Of course there are gays on the medical staff, and one or two maybe . . . but I’ve never heard anything like that. Which I would. We actually have an organization for gays in the health-care field of which I’ve been a member for several years and know almost everyone in it. If there was such a rumor, then I would have heard it.”

Irene was about to ask if lesbians were allowed to join but upon consideration, decided that they probably had their own group. If not, then it was probably the same in the homosexual world as it was everywhere else, where men were the norm and women the exception. The question was interesting but there was hardly a reason to ask Pontus about it, thought Irene.

But an idea was forming in her head.

“How often do you have meetings of this organization?”

“The first Monday of every month.”

Irene leaned forward and looked at her desk calendar. “The next meeting will be this Monday,” she said.

“Exactly.”

Irene looked up from the calendar and made eye contact with him. “I’d like you to discuss what you heard from me today with the people at this meeting. Tell them that Marcus may have been in a relationship with a man who’s a doctor. Mention that you became very upset when I started asking about someone with sadomasochist interests who leans toward necrophilia. Tell them how angry you became and that you gave me an earful about people’s prejudices,” she said.

Pontus looked completely uncomprehending. Finally, he stammered, “But . . . but . . . oh God . . . why?”

“To get a discussion started. When people start talking, you should keep your ears cocked and try and remember what is said. Maybe someone has had a run-in with a doctor who turned out to be dangerous. It may be worth a try.”

Irene was aware that she was appealing to him, but if it could get them closer to the doctor’s identity, it would be a real break. Everything depended on whether or not Pontus would go along with the suggestion.

His forehead wrinkled as he stared through the heavy glass windowpane in Irene’s office. He nervously straightened the already smooth hair on the top of his head with the palm of his hand, then took his hand away, turned from the view over the gloomy dark brown brick building of the Insurance Office, and said, “OK. I’m willing to give it a try for Marcus and Emil’s sake.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Irene. “I’m going to give you some phone numbers where you can reach me.”

 

“DO YOU think we should release more details to the press about Marcus’s murder?” asked Irene.

Superintendent Andersson muttered, “The vultures have gotten enough information.”

Andersson had stopped by around lunchtime, not because he was on duty over the weekend but because Irene suspected he didn’t have anything better to do. Maybe he felt lonelier than his staff thought. He looked more unkempt than usual today, in worn brown pants and a washed-out, wrinkled shirt. At some point it had probably been forest green but over time it had taken on a faded, military green hue.

Irene continued, patiently coaxing, “I’m thinking about the fact that Marcus was in Göteborg for one or two days at the beginning of March. We know that because he called Anders Gunnarsson. And the neighbor lady saw that he had been home and watered his plants while she was in the hospital. We’ve asked the other neighbors but none of them recalls having seen him. I’m wondering if he might have been spotted somewhere else in the city. Maybe at a club or something.”

Andersson considered this suggestion. Finally he said, “Didn’t he tell that dentist that he didn’t have time to drive out to Alingsås to get the camera he wanted to borrow?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think he was in a hurry.”

“You mean you think he came home to Göteborg, packed some clothes for the trip to Thailand, and left again right away? Maybe he didn’t even stay overnight in the apartment?”

“Exactly. There weren’t any sheets on the bed. But we’ve checked departures to Thailand from Sweden, Norway, and Denmark during the first week of March. Marcus Tosscander wasn’t on any of the passenger lists. He should have been if he was booked on a flight.”

After the last sentence, Irene had goose bumps all over her body.

“That means Marcus was tricked. The murderer never intended to take him to Thailand. He had decided to kill Marcus from the very beginning,” she concluded.

Andersson nodded grimly.

“It seems that way.”

Irene forced herself to continue, “Then the big question is, where was he murdered? And then where was he dismembered? It doesn’t necessarily have to be the same place.”

“No. The technicians have checked the bathtub and the drain in his apartment, but there were no traces of human tissue or blood.”

“Do you know what the analysis of the trash bags and the tape have shown?”

“It’s the most common type of black trash bag on the market. It can be purchased at every hardware store and every gas station and so on. The tape is regular masking tape that you use when you paint. It can also be purchased anywhere. The only interesting thing the technicians found was traces of rice powder on the tape and inside the bags.”

Irene nodded. “That’s what we suspected all along. The murderer must have worn latex medical gloves. How commonly is rice powder used, compared to regular talcum powder, on medical examination gloves these days?”

“No idea. We’ll have to ask the technicians. But the murderer has actually left a clue behind or, rather, two.”

At first Irene was genuinely surprised. This murderer seemed more like a malicious being than a human who might leave a trail. Of course he was in fact a tangible person, and, as such, it was possible to trace him through the evidence he had left behind. Even if the leads in this case were very few. But at some decisive moment he would expose himself. Irene had been waiting for it to happen. Perhaps he was, reluctantly, beginning to reveal himself now. Anticipation caused her pulse to quicken as she leaned over the desk and looked at the superintendent.

“What kind of evidence?”

Andersson smiled contentedly when he saw her restrained excitement.

“Hairs. Two of them. They were in the sack, under the lower part of the body. And they don’t belong to Marcus Tosscander because they’re too light. Svante has sent one of them to his colleagues in Copenhagen. It will be a direct hit if they’ve found hairs from the same person at one of their crime scenes.”

“Have they found rice powder at the crime scenes in Copenhagen or in connection with Carmen Østergaard?” Irene asked.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Svante. He’s in touch with Copenhagen.”

 

IRENE FOUND police technician Svante Malm in the Forensics break room. He was sitting, his eyes closed and his back leaning up against the wall. At first Irene thought that he was asleep, but when she hesitantly approached, he opened his eyes slightly. A happy smile crossed his long freckled face. He quickly ran his fingers through his carrot red hair in a futile attempt to make himself presentable. Wisps of hair stood up on the top of his head. He looked like he had just awakened.

“Now you caught me red-handed,” he said.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“Not at all. I was meditating.”

He smiled again and got up to get some coffee from the pot on the hot plate. Irene had just had three cups of coffee after lunch, so, just to be different, she declined his offer. When he had seated himself at the table with his aromatic-smelling mug, Irene asked how much data he had on the murders in Copenhagen. She had copied the information with respect to Carmen Østergaard herself, but she hadn’t had a chance to read it over.

“As far as the murder of Carmen is concerned, it has been determined that the murderer was wearing rubber gloves there as well. They found talcum powder on both the body parts and in the sacks.”

“Talc? Not rice powder?”

“No, regular talc. Because of allergies they’ve recently begun to use rice powder, instead of talc, on examination gloves.”

“Did the sacks reveal anything?”

“The body parts of each corpse were found in the same type of black trash bag. The only difference is the way they were sealed. Marcus’s sacks were taped with masking tape. Carmen’s were tied together with nylon string. According to my Danish colleagues, strong string of the household kind was used. Unfortunately, that type of string is very common and is used throughout both Sweden and Denmark.”

“But Andersson said that you had found two hairs in one of Marcus’s sacks.”

“Yes. I sent one of them to Copenhagen, but haven’t heard anything yet.”

“It’ll probably take a while. Isabell Lind was murdered in an old hotel room. Naturally there were a lot of hairs.”

“Yikes. Then we’ll have to bet on the other crime scene where that guy was found.”

“It was also very dirty.”

“Were you there?”

“Yes. I was there when he was found.”

An image of Emil’s desecrated corpse suddenly flashed before Irene’s eyes. The scene was crystal clear. She started talking about the murders of Isabell and Emil in order to dispel the agonizing picture.

Svante Malm absorbed her information. Finally, he said, “Strange. The murders of Carmen and Marcus are almost identical. Just like the murders of Isabell and Emil. The medical examiner is still convinced that we’re dealing with the same murderer. What kept the killer from completion? From cleaning out the bodies of the victims and dismembering them?”

Malm had put his finger on exactly the question that was gnawing at Irene. Why hadn’t he finished the dismemberment? Incomplete. Irene remembered that word had come to mind earlier.

“One theory is that for some reason he didn’t have access to the circular saw he had during the last two murders. Another reason could be lack of time,” she said.