Night Rounds (10 page)

He absentmindedly stroked the nonexistent hair on his bald head. He seemed old and worn out. “I’ll deal with Borg now. Go on back to work.”

Irene and Birgitta left his office in silence. They stopped outside Birgitta’s room.

“I don’t know what to say. This is … unbelievable,” Irene exclaimed.

Birgitta nodded glumly. “No less true, though. In the beginning I just ignored those pictures. Thought that the whole thing would blow over. But … it never did.”

Impulsively, Irene laid a hand on Birgitta’s arm. “Let’s go get some coffee. I could use a bucket of it after this.”

Birgitta smiled. “Your universal cure for all problems—coffee.”

TOMMY HAD ALREADY
started phoning to set up interviews.

“First we’re going to Nordstan shopping mall to see whether Mama Bird is hanging around there. The patrol cars are alerted, and they’ll keep an eye out for her. A foot patrol will check the garden shed all night at regular intervals just in case she shows up. At least we won’t need anyone posted there. The weather sucks, and it’s supposed to be bad all through the weekend.”

Irene looked out the window. The weather was truly bad, but at least she could stay inside where it was warm and dry. The foot patrol that she and Tommy would check in with had no such luck.

“Then I’ve made an appointment with one of the field-workers at the City Mission. We’re supposed to meet him at three-thirty if we haven’t found Mama Bird by then. He’ll also ask around in case one of his co-workers knows anything. I gave him my cell number.”

“But first it’s over to our colleagues in Nordstan.”

“Yep.”

POLICE INSPECTOR STEFANSSON
had recently been appointed squad leader for Nordstan’s relatively new police station. Both Irene and Tommy knew him well from previous work.

He was sitting at a shiny new desk and seemed blinded by its glare. He wasn’t much for desk work, but it came with the promotion. He looked at them thoughtfully before he said, “Yes, I know who you’re talking about. A short, bony lady who feeds birds. It has to be her.”

Irene was surprised when Stefansson tittered. He stopped as soon as he saw their raised eyebrows. “We’ve had to deal with her quite a bit, actually,” he said. “At least once a week, someone from a grocery store calls and screams at us: ‘She’s here again.’ ”

“What does she do there?” Tommy asked.

“Steals, but only bread and other stuff you can feed to birds. She takes a shopping cart and fills it up with what she wants and then heads through the checkout line without paying. That’s when the fur flies.”

“Do they yell at her for taking stuff?”

“No, she yells at them for insisting she pay. She’s even thrown bread loaves at people’s heads and spit on them.”

“Do you know her real name?”

“No, I don’t.” Stefansson shook his head in apology.

“Where’s the most likely place we could find her?”

“Since it’s raining cats and dogs out there, I suspect she’s trying to keep dry inside the mall, in one of the shops or maybe the parking garage. Let me check with foot patrol to see if anyone’s seen her today.”

Stefansson called both foot patrols on duty inside the Nordstan shopping mall complex, but neither of them had seen the bird lady for a while. Shrugging in apology, Stefansson said, “Sorry, you’ll have to search for her yourselves. At least she hasn’t been taken to jail lately.”

AFTER THREE HOURS
going through stairwells and parking garages, Tommy and Irene gave up, went to McDonald’s, and had one Big Mac apiece. It appeared that Mama Bird was nowhere to be found in the entire Nordstan shopping complex. Stefansson had called different shops to check whether anyone had seen her, but all his results were negative. No one seemed to have seen her the last few days.

“Where can she be? She’s not here. She’s not at the shed.” Irene sighed.

“I’ll give Kent Olsson at City Mission a call.” Tommy fished his cell phone from his pocket and produced a wrinkled piece of paper bearing the squad leader’s telephone number.

“Hi, this is Tommy Persson again. We haven’t found a trace of the lady here in Nordstan. Have you had better luck?” Tommy’s face lit up as he listened. “Really? That sounds promising. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hung up.

“Kent’s found a woman who knows Mama Bird. He told her we’d buy her a half special if she stays until we get there.”

“Finally a lead on the bird lady.”

THEY HAD THE
good fortune to find a parking spot on Allmänna Vägen. In spite of the fact that they didn’t have to walk far to the City Mission Café, they were soaked through when they crossed the threshold. Kent Olsson was standing right inside the door waiting for them. He was a short, strong man in his early middle age. His reddish hair and impressive beard framed a face with friendly gray-blue eyes. After saying hello, he said, “Mimmi, the woman you are going to meet, now has a tiny apartment of her own nearby. She usually comes here to our café every day just to have someone to talk to. Her sister died five years ago, and Mimmi was able to take over the apartment. It’s her way back into society.”

“How old is she?” Irene asked.

“About sixty. But she’s able to take care of her own cooking and cleaning with only a little help from home services. She’s proud of that. But, unfortunately, she’s very lonely. She and her sister were the only two left in her family, and once her sister died, she was all alone. She has us, though.”

“Do many mentally ill people come here?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, we have many. A few here at the café, but most when we’re out in our deacon bus.”

As they were talking, they reached a door with the word café on it. Kent Olsson held it open for them. The odor of unwashed human bodies was noticeable. There weren’t all that many people around the table, which was surprising, since the weather was so bad.

“Not many people today,” Irene stated.

“No, most of them had to leave already to find a place to sleep for the night,” Kent Olsson answered.

Over by the window sat a small, plump woman. She wore a red headband and a torn jacket that had once been orange. Her smile was toothless and filled with anticipation. She got up from her chair with difficulty and held out a knobby hand. Irene took it warmly and did her best to ignore the strong urine smell the woman gave off.

“Hi. I’m Inspector Irene Huss.”

“Hi. I’m Mimmi.”

Mimmi’s voice was grating and raspy. She cleared her throat a few times and wet her lips with her tongue. It didn’t seem to help, since her tongue seemed just as dry.

“Hi, Mimmi. I’m Inspector Tommy Persson.”

From the corner of her eye, Irene noticed how some of the people closest to them listened as they introduced themselves. Then, one by one, they slunk out the door.

Irene decided to be direct. “Kent said you might know the name of a woman we’re looking for. She calls herself Mama Bi—”

“Peep! Peep! Gunnela has peeps!” Mimmi giggled.

“Her name is Gunnela?”

Mimmi nodded enthusiastically.

“Do you know her last name?”

“Hägg.”

Tommy was taking down everything in his notebook, so Irene continued. “How do you know Gunnela?”

“We lived on the same floor.”

“At the mental hospital called Lillhagen?”

Mimmi nodded again and tried to moisten her dry, cracked lips.

“How many years did you know each other?”

“All of them.”

“You mean all the years you lived there?”

“No, all the years she lived there.”

“How many years was that?”

“Don’t know.”

Mimmi appeared uninterested and tried to keep her shaking left hand still by covering it with her right hand. The result was that both hands began to shake.

“How many years did you live at Lillhagen?”

Without looking away from her vibrating hands, Mimmi answered, “Thirty-two years, five months, and sixteen days.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifty-six.”

Irene quickly did the math in her head. Mimmi must have been around twenty-four when she’d been admitted to the mental hospital. Mimmi looked at Irene again.

“I tried to live outside of Lillhagen, but it didn’t work. Now it’s better with my shot once a month.” She smiled.

“Is that all the medicine you need?”

A single nod was her answer. If the medicine lasted an entire month, it must be one powerful dose. No wonder the woman was constantly shaking.

“How old is Gunnela?”

Mimmi shrugged.

“Is she older than you are?”

“Younger. She’s much younger.”

Irene was surprised. She hadn’t expected that. “Do you know how much younger she is than you?”

Mimmi just shrugged again.

“Did she feed the birds when you were living on the same floor?”

“Every time we went outside, she fed them. She could speak with the birds. So she said.”

“Did you hang around with Gunnela very much?”

“No. She was younger.”

“Do you know where Gunnela went to live?”

The tiny woman appeared surprised. “She lived at Lillhagen, of course.”

“Do you know where she went to live after she left Lillhagen?”

“She lived at Lillhagen.” Mimmi was certain.

It appeared that Gunnela Hägg was still living in the mental institution when Mimmi had moved out. At least now they knew the name of the bird lady; they’d be able to start with Lillhagen’s records.

“Mimmi, did Gunnela have any family?”

Mimmi concentrated but finally shook her head. “No. She never had visits. I had visits.”

Irene reminded herself that they’d promised Mimmi a half special—a grilled hot dog with mashed potatoes on top. They decided to take Mimmi with them and bought her one at the nearest hot-dog stand before she went on her way.

TOMMY CALLED THE
station and asked Hannu Rauhala to find out as much as he could at Lillhagen about Gunnela Hägg. Since they’d worked with him before, both Irene and Tommy were well aware that Hannu had phenomenal ways of finding vital information out of thin air. Before Tommy hung up, Hannu let them know that Niklas Alexandersson’s alibi held. He’d checked the three friends as well as employees of the Gomorrah Club. He also let them know that there’d been no progress on Linda Svensson’s disappearance. They’d sent out a missing-persons bulletin covering the entire country now.

Tommy ended the call and stared out the windshield, depressed. The world around them was dissolved into fragments of light broken by cascading rain. Irene started the car resolutely.

“It’s almost five o’clock, and I have to pick up Sammie. My dog-sitter will have a fit if I’m late two days in a row.”

Tommy nodded. “By the way, do you know if there’s a florist nearby?”

“Why do you need a florist?”

He laughed. “I have to take care of my sweetheart. Don’t you know it’s Valentine’s Day?”

Irene had forgotten, but she said quickly, “Good idea. I need a bouquet for Krister, because he’ll be home earlier than usual. We’re going to have a wonderful Valentine’s Day dinner.”

She really longed to get home.

• • •

IRENE TOOK
S
AMMIE
for a walk in the pouring rain. Afterward she arranged the bouquet of tulips in a vase in the center of the dinner table and put out the good china. She had no idea what Krister was going to prepare, but he would have to buy ingredients on the way home, since the refrigerator was empty. She’d need to write a shopping list and get more groceries tomorrow, because Krister would be working all weekend. At least he didn’t need to go in until late afternoon. Tonight they’d have a pleasant evening. A tingling of expectation warmed the spot between her legs. It would be wonderful to spend Valentine’s Day evening without the children at home. As the clock ticked toward nine, she decided to call Glady’s Corner.

The maître d’ told her that Krister was still in the kitchen. Irene asked to speak to him. After she’d waited what seemed like an eternity, Krister came on the line.

“Hi, sweetheart. Sorry, I haven’t even had a free minute to call you. We’re totally swamped here, and Svante called in sick.”

“When do you think you’ll be home?”

“Probably ten-thirty at the earliest.”

“Oh.” Irene couldn’t hide her disappointment. At the same time, she felt so hungry she couldn’t stand it. Carefully, she asked, “Well, what should we do about our Valentine’s Day dinner?”

“Valentine’s? That’s today? No wonder there’s such a rush here. Well, we’ll have to have a Valentine’s Day lunch tomorrow instead. I’ll be dead on my feet when I get home. I’ve been working since nine this morning.”

They kissed through the phone and hung up. Irene irrationally felt abandoned. And there was nothing here for a real dinner.

She fried an egg and put it on a slice of bread that had been sitting in the bread box for a few days. Searching through the cupboards, she found a can of tomato soup, which she warmed up. There wasn’t even any near beer in the house. Her meal did not put her in a festive mood.

She turned on the TV and settled on an American cop show. Her movie counterparts killed six people in a matter of minutes with no consequences. She found that it all made her feel somewhat ill. Maybe she should just go to bed.

As she lay awake, she thought about many things. Life at home wasn’t running as smoothly as it had when Krister worked only thirty hours a week. Back then the fridge was always full and dinner was always made. He’d also done most of the grocery shopping and cleaning. Now that he was working full-time, and overtime to boot, he wasn’t able to plan things the same way. Jenny and Katarina were probably a bit spoiled. They never had to cook, go shopping, or clean. Of course, they were busy at school with their studies and their activities. How much did it cost to have someone come in and clean? Certainly that would be politically incorrect. But they probably could afford someone. It would be wonderful to come home to a clean house. Then maybe she and Krister would have enough energy for shopping, cooking, and being with the family. Not to mention the dog, Irene reminded herself, as she felt Sammie turn over in his sleep and land on her feet.